There is a 99% chance, thought L, that I am going mad.
"Stop whimpering," said Light, tugging the brush through the detective's matted hair. "Some of us do this every morning."
L gritted his teeth. "I can't understand why."
"Which is exactly why I have a date to this wedding, and you do not." A pause. "You should be grateful I volunteered for this. Misa wanted to paint you up as a jester."
The brush caught fast with a painful jerk, and the detective yelped. "I still don't see why I can't go in jeans," he said, pressing his thumb sullenly to his lips.
"I still don't see why you have to come at all. But since you are coming, you have to blend in. Father's orders." Light sighed. "He has to wear a costume too, you know. If his dignity can withstand a doublet and hose, I'm pretty sure you'll be fine."
"Your father's dignity is the stuff of legend and could withstand even thigh-highs and glitter. Mine cannot."
"Irrelevant, since no one's asking either of you to wear thigh-highs. Fortunately for everyone." The brush withdrew, and something wet and slimy splatted onto L's head. He cringed. "Oh, relax," said Light, amused. "It's just hair gel."
"Hair gel?" The detective reached up to touch the clammy stuff and shuddered with revulsion. "No. I draw the line at hair gel. Hair gel wasn't invented until the 1960s. It isn't period, and I'm not wearing it."
The boy sighed. "There's evidence of people as far back as the ancient Egyptians using animal fats and tree resin to style their hair. If you'd rather I rub lard on your head, that's fine by me. But my cousin wants a fairytale wedding, so you will look like a proper Barbie prince if it kills you. Or me, for that matter."
"I hate you, Light-kun."
"I'm just following orders."
"So was Eichmann."
"You only wish I were a mass-murderer."
"Well, there's a 7% chance..." L's retort was interrupted by another squirt of hair gel, followed by the even more unwelcome sensation of Light's fingers massaging his scalp. The detective sulked. "9%. You're taking far too much pleasure in my misfortune."
Light chuckled. "Funny, that's exactly what I thought about you. Only I was in a cell at the time." His fingers continued to move as he spoke, slicking down L's wild, buoyant hair.
"You volunteered for that!"
"And you volunteered to stalk me at a family wedding. So stop whining." Though L couldn't see Light's face, he could practically hear the boy's eyes roll. "Trust me, Ryuzaki. Even if I really were Kira, I wouldn't kill you with hair gel."
I don't trust you, Light-kun, L fumed inwardly. That's exactly why I'm coming. Soichiro Yagami had demanded his son be allowed to attend Keiko Yagami's wedding, but L wasn't about to leave his one and only Kira suspect totally unsupervised–especially not with Misa, the probable Second Kira, as Light's date. In the end, a compromise had been struck: Light would be freed from his handcuff to attend the wedding, but L would come along to keep a hawkish eye on him. Keiko had taken some careful coaxing, but forced to choose between L's presence and her favorite cousin's absence, she had at last extended "Ryuzaki" a formal invitation. Which meant he, too, had to bow to the bride's eccentric whim that all the guests come dressed as European fairytale royalty, whether he liked it or not.
And he very, very assuredly did not.
"There," said Light at last, withdrawing his foul, slimy hands from the detective's head. "You're set. Take a look."
L climbed down from his birdlike perch atop the desk chair and turned nervously to face the mirror. His dark hair hung long and stiff around his miserable face, the ends brushing against the high collar of his green and aqua, gold-embroidered tunic every time he turned his head. Beneath the tunic, he wore a long-sleeved blue shirt and matching hose, which clung to his legs and crotch in uncomfortable–and somewhat mortifying–ways. He glared at Light, on whom the crimson and black version of the same outfit looked predictably but unfairly dashing. There's no justice in this world, thought L, eying the boy's legs with jealous distaste. 100% probability of that.
"Fine. I looked. Now let's go." He turned to go, but Light grabbed his shoulder.
"Not so fast, Ryuzaki. Boots."
L grimaced. "I'd rather go barefoot."
"Only peasants went barefoot."
"I'll be a peasant, then."
"Peasants were also covered in shit."
"I can accept that."
"Then I'll find you a nice horse turd to roll in on your own time. Right now, though, you're a prince." Light shoved the detective forcefully back into the chair. "So put your goddamn boots on, Highness."
With an aggrieved sigh, L lifted one foot. "Fine. You do it."
"As you wish, Cinderella." Light knelt and slid the uncomfortable leather boots onto the detective's feet. L stood up and took a few mincing, inquisitive steps, making a face at the way they pinched his toes. He scowled at Light, daring him to laugh, but the boy's face was a Noh mask of innocence. Dour-faced, L slouched to the door and down to the main room of headquarters.
"Light!" Misa squealed and ran into her boyfriend's arms, nearly tackling him to the ground. "You really are my knight in shining armor today!"
She turned to examine L, and his face heated. She was wearing a long, flowing black gown with a tight, low-cut bodice and long funnel sleeves trimmed with white. Rather than her usual side ponytails, her hair hung loose beneath a black and white striped circlet trailing a black tulle veil. L hated to admit it, given her status as a suspect–not to mention Light's girlfriend–but she looked very fetching in that outfit. Very. And probably out of it, too.
He coughed.
"Uh...you look very lovely today, Miss Amane," he said.
She smiled. "You're so sweet. Look, Light, didn't I tell you? I knew he'd be cute with his hair fixed!"
Light grinned at L and opened his mouth, clearly ready to poke more fun, but his father intervened. "Is everyone ready?"
"Yes," replied L hastily, eying Soichiro's outfit with dismay. It was an absurd Tudor getup in an unattractive shade of burgundy, gaudy to the point of comedy, yet the elder Yagami's gravitas somehow made it look regal. L gnawed his lip. Why is it that I'm surrounded by Japanese in European historical clothing, yet I'm the only one who looks ridiculous? "We're all ready, Mr. Yagami. Let's go."
L found almost all weddings to be tedious and overwrought, but Keiko Yagami's was worse than most–gaudy, interminable, and worse: outdoors. By the time the last of the dozen bridesmaids and six "flower fairies" of Keiko's court had filed back down the aisle, the detective was sunburnt and stiff from sitting like a normal human being.
Yet if the ceremony itself was torture, the reception was the ninth circle of hell. Being hemmed in by several hundred strangers was enough to make L's fingers twitch all on its own, but Light insisted on wading into the thick of the scrum and introducing him to everyone, particularly a group of younger women–several of whom, to L's horror, looked like they might be interested. By the time Light finally stopped socializing to eat, the detective found himself almost sympathizing with Kira. Some people really do need to die, he thought wearily. Light Yagami chief among them. He made his way through the buffet line and headed back toward his table without waiting for his suspect, wondering irritably whether Soichiro would accept "criminal obnoxiousness" as grounds for re-confining his son.
"Ryuga-kun?"
L blinked in surprise as an attractive young woman in a surprisingly tasteful green velvet gown approached him. Her makeup and short black hair were both immaculate, and the only adornments she wore were a small tiara and a belt of gold disks. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her. "Do I know you?"
The girl didn't bat an eye at his rudeness. "You're Hideki Ryuga, aren't you? From Todai University? I remember you from the freshman ceremony, but I don't think we've ever formally met..." She extended a slender hand. "I'm Kiyomi Takada. I'm a niece of the groom."
"Ah, yes, of course," said L, giving her a perfunctory handshake. He glanced over his shoulder, curious as to why Light hadn't yet caught up to him, and frowned in confusion. Damn it. Now where did he sneak off to? "It's a pleasure to meet you. Unfortunately, I seem to have lost my friend Light in the crowd somewhere, so if you'll excuse me..."
"Light?" Her voice rose nearly an octave. "Light Yagami? He's here?"
L paid her little mind, frantically scanning the crowd for his missing suspect. "Uh, yes. Or he was. Not sure where he is at the moment." He turned back to offer some polite excuse for leaving, but the girl was already gone. A moment later, a hand descended on the detective's shoulder. He jumped and turned to find Light standing behind him, his face pale.
"I could throw you back in prison for disappearing like that, Light-kun," L snapped.
"Yeah, I know," said Light. "Sorry about that. Look, if she comes back, don't tell her I'm here, okay?"
Well, isn't this interesting. L pressed a thumb to his lips. "Why not?"
"She's kind of my girlfriend."
"Was your girlfriend, you mean."
"Uh...yes and no. I didn't think to call it off before I asked you to imprison me. Or, well, afterwards. As far as she knows, I just disappeared." The boy ran a hand nervously through his hair. "Shit. This is going to be a problem."
"A problem for you, perhaps." Now L remembered where he'd seen Kiyomi Takada before. She'd been walking with Light the last day L had visited him on campus–the same day Misa had introduced herself to him as Light's girlfriend. Very, very interesting. "Unfortunately, the young lady is already aware that you're here. I have reason to believe she's searching the crowd for you right now."
Light groaned softly. "Great. Just great. What did you have to tell her for?"
"I wasn't aware you were hiding. I'm here to keep an eye on your present girlfriend, not your ex." L looked around. "Speaking of which, where is Miss Amane right now?"
"In the bathroom, thank God. All right, listen. If she comes back, I'm going to need you to distract her for me, all right?"
"No." Never had L taken such glee in such a simple word. "I'm here to watch you, not let you sneak away. Your tangled love life is not my concern."
"Oh, come on, Ryuzaki. I thought you were my friend."
"You thought wrong."
"You said you were."
"That was before the hair gel."
"Fine." Light took a deep breath, staring balefully at the detective. "If you help me out, I'll let you have my slice of cake. Sound fair?"
L considered this for a moment. "What kind of cake?"
"Strawberry, I believe. With vanilla buttercream."
"And all I have to do is distract her when she comes back?"
"That's it."
"Hmmm." The detective smiled. "All right. It's a deal."
"There you are!"
A green blur broke through the crowd and hurled itself at Light. He yelped and staggered, looking down at Kiyomi Takada's furious face with the stupefied terror of a deer staring down a pair of headlights.
"Light Yagami, where have you been? I thought you were dead! I thought you'd been kidnapped! Where were you? Why didn't you call me? You just disappeared, no word, no explanation, nothing! Everybody's been worried sick about you! I thought you loved me. How could you do this to me? How could you?"
Light turned plaintively to L, looking for a rescue, but the detective merely smiled.
"Don't worry, Light-kun," he said cheerfully. "When Misa comes back, I'll distract her, just like you asked."
The boy's jaw dropped in horror as Kiyomi's voice rose another octave. "Misa? Misa? You found another girl and didn't tell me? Why you cowardly, heartless, no-good, perverted, cheating...!"
L shrugged, struggling not to laugh at Light's betrayed expression. "Two words, Yagami: hair gel." He backed away. "I'll just go see if I can find Miss Amane, shall I?"
He bowed his head respectfully and left, his sour mood completely erased by Kiyomi's shrieks behind him. Strawberries or no strawberries, wiping the smug grin off Light's face was far more delicious than any cake–and getting the lovely Misa all to himself was the icing. Sure, he would be breaking his vow to keep an eye on Light, but so long as Kiyomi was making such a spectacle, the boy would hardly be able to get into any trouble.
Any more than he already was in, at least.
An eye for an eye, my friend.
It was going to be a perfectly lovely wedding after all.