...
Beautiful Sky, Buried beneath the Earth
...
Summary: He can't tell whether it's supposed to be a joke or not; but he finds it funny anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note - neither the manga, the anime, nor the supernatural shinigami book used as a murder implement.
Genre: Put under crime/suspense because I had no idea what to label this as. Just a random thought that floated its way to the forefront of my brain.
My first Death Note fanfiction... and probably my last. Or not. Cheers to ephemeral whimsicality.
...
6.45 in the evening. The sombre dusk, between the bustling activity of the day and the shady recesses of the night, the grey period of jobless lull, when hardworking office-goers retreat to their warm homes and the tired policemen of Kanto prefecture debate on the latest baseball game and the idea of calling it a day and leaving for home.
At precise this lazy time on a dreary Monday, the sleepy mood at the local police station was rudely disrupted by the squawking of the telephone, the harsh screeches resounding in the formerly content silence.
Distressed construction workers of Kawasaki Builders Inc. wished to report strange unidentified debris on their building site. They were frantic, unclear; but their urgency was undeniable. A patient officer in a blue suit answered the phone, methodically jotting down the significant points in a little notebook. Often, he asked clipped, precise questions to get the speaker on the other line back on track.
The replies were direct, if a bit befuddling. No, no one had been killed, injured or otherwise harmed. No, there was no immediate danger in the vicinity. No, it was certainly not a case of construction equipment causing damage to life or property. The debris was not recent; in fact, they believed it had been part of the landfill which the plot had originally contained.
The slightly confused police officer was blank for a minute, then he tactfully enquired the nature of the suspicious debris. The reply was even more puzzling. No, it was not toxic dumping, nor was it chemical waste of any sort. In fact, they thought it rather resembled... a carcass.
The mention of possible dead bodies jolted the crime-oriented detective to action. Calmly reassuring the flustered workman, he placed the phone down, and announced in a dry, professional manner."Suspected unidentified body near Namaguchi medical center. Found in a newly excavated landfill by Kawasaki builders. Requesting a team to examine the site immediately."
Duty done, the officer looked expectantly at the police chief, waiting for further orders. Beside him, his team began donning jackets and draining the last vestiges of their coffee, getting ready for their next case.
"Go to Kawasaki immediately, and take Hayate and Nishijima wish you. I expect a thorough investigation and a quick debrief on the essential facts tomorrow."
The team hurried out, pausing only for a brief but respectful nod to their superior. Section Chief Light Yagami's only response was a thoughtful gaze at their retreating backs.
...
The case was decidedly bizarre, so the investigation team wasted no time in enlisting the assistance of their chief, a veteran who had been serving the police since he reached legal age three years ago, and who, according to rumors, had unofficially worked with the department much before, shedding light (no pun intended) on the most complex of cases, including the infamous unsolved Kira case.
Light's experienced eyes meticulously assessed the crime scene, but the half renovated construction plot, half abandoned junkyard dump, yielded no further information that what his subordinates provided.
The visit to the morgue however, was a completely different story.
The plastic-wrapped body was unidentifiable, its features wrecked by multiple deep gashes across the face. Yet, instinctively, he knew; an innate realization that had nothing to do with the excitable whispers of the invisible shinigami hovering above his ear.
A memory flashed before his eyes; long dark hair, a sharp, vivacious face, keen intelligence lurking behind obsidian eyes...
He could feel a laugh bubbling inside him, but he quelled it. Levity at the vestibule of death was not appreciated, and he did not wish to draw attention to himself. But later, when it was just him and his otherworldly partner in crime, he allowed the mirth to take over him, laughing inanely at the twist of fate that revealed to him the fruit of one of his most satisfactory crimes.
...
He did not need the coroner's report or the cross-reference with missing persons list and dental records to conclude that the body was Japan-born ex-FBI agent Misora Naomi; yet he avidly perused the autopsy report, focusing on the gory descriptions and modus operandi rather than the blasé inconsequent info on discovery and identification.
He skimmed the pages of the Death Note to find the relevant entry, focusing on the exact wording of his command. She was to commit suicide in a manner and hide her body, in a manner that she would be undiscovered, at least till the heat died down; till L either found someone other than Light to suspect, or was too dead to care.
All things considered, Misora had done a fine job of disposing her body. The corpse had been eaten away by the parasitic scavengers that populated the forgotten little dumping ground - the earthworms, leeches and bacteria having their way with her organic remains; till the cadaver was barely identifiable as human, let alone as the mangled corpse of a young female detective.
It was only by chance that that particular landfill was chosen to be levelled for a high-rise construction. The painstaking adherence to small details impressed Light. As expected of an agent who even the mighty L had acknowledged.
That night, hearing Misa's simpering affectionate 'welcome home', followed by a whining 'why were you so late?'; Light felt a brief stab of regret. Misora had been a mature, lovely woman, intelligent and sharp, and so attractive... her death was such a waste.
...
The case was quickly closed; clearly, the gruesome disfigurations had been carried out by the deceased herself, before she shot herself with a small 38' caliber, found conveniently close to the body.
The verdict was direct: Driven to madness by the passing of her fiancé, the distraught young woman had decided to end her life. The horrific cases she had witnessed in the FBI had subconsciously unhinged her, and Raye Penber's death had destroyed her last thread of sanity. So she mutilated herself to the point of no recognition, and shot herself so as to truly be one with her beloved.
The state-issued obituary had been cheerily optimistic, "Although the deceased has no living family, she shall definitely be remembered by the many people who cherished her."
Light snorted. The fact that nobody else had bothered to pay their respect to the dead woman, to visit the small unmarked grave wedged between two large tombstones in an ill-maintained graveyard, showed the ugly truth clearly, that Misora Naomi was cherished by not one single person, except her killer himself.
He can't tell whether it's supposed to be a joke or not; but he finds it funny anyway.
...
The story title is literal. 'Misora' translates as Beautiful sky, so I simply put it as is.
More trivia on the conception and shaping of this story on my profile page. My sincere gratitude to all who took the time to read this little story.