A/N: Finally, a fanfic instead of a fan-poetry or a fan-play. And multi-chap too. Hopefully, I'll update about once a month. Feel free to bug me if I stray too far from that. Past the ninth of each month for the time being.
Regression
Prologue
Unfocused eyes drifted over the green spread lawn, picking out specks of brown and grey littering the freshly mowed grass. The thin strands trembled slightly in the breeze, bending and arching their backs in a way that became almost sensual during a moment of extreme boredom. And he had to be desperate, watching blades of grass dance to the spring's wind; summer was still a ways off, but that didn't prevent the green from drying into a dry brown.
Raito sighed, flicking a stray strand of brown hair as it obscured the image, before repeating the action as the teacher called upon him. Despite the journey upon which his concentration had embarked, it took little more than a split second for him to realign his mind and scan the chalked English scrawl upon the blackboard.
'Yagami-kun. Please read this out to us.' The teacher tapped on the blackboard, apparently ignorant to the inattention.
In a monotone, Raito read out the sentence, the words passing through his mind as quickly as they passed before his eyes. The lips moved with little conscious thought; he didn't bother registering the sounds that fell from them. He'd read the book enough times in the past to have its contents memorised.
That wasn't the only familiar thing. The teacher nodded with a look that bordered between expectancy and admiration before returning to the class. Raito's gaze drifted back to the window.
He really must have been desperate if the blades of drying grass were hoarding his attention. But even that was failing; he was sure that, given a pencil and a piece of paper, he could recreate the plant to the cell.
Instead, all he had was his meticulously neat note-book.
His eyes drooped as another student stuttered through the same statement he had flown through with ease. He raised a palm to support his chin before that followed, pulling on a mask of attentiveness. He wasn't truly engaged though; he knew the material already…unlike his classmates, the majority struggling through one of Nietzsche's simplest ideals. One knocked over his stack of books, a mischievous grin hiding the strain. The teacher simply shook his head and moved on.
An innocent action, but if he attempted that, the adults would probably act as though the apocalypse was coming. Either that or they would question his sanity and lock him in a mental institution.
There was nothing stimulating about a mental institution. In any case, his life had become so firmly engrained that if he did lift a hand to push the novels, unconscious instinct would be enough to restrain him. While groundbreaking, it was nothing motivating. Nothing thought-provoking.
In fact, it wasn't even worth considering for action.
He turned his head slightly to stare at the lawn again. It didn't even seem worth appealing to some non-existent deity of time to bring forth the end of school. Cram followed, then a trip to the library and the re-borrowing of a simple book many classed as "ingenious", and then back to his house. His house where his mother cooks her content meals, his sister begs him for academic help and his father arrives ten minutes into dinner, working off his tie and shoes as he steps through the door. Occasionally, they would have a guest, but Sachiko was organised enough to plan weeks in advanced so it never came as a surprise. Sayu broke the rules often enough for it to be expected to hear an extra giggle behind closed doors as he flies through his homework. The only unexpected thing that ever occurred was when his father got caught up with a difficult case that held him up at the agency.
Unfortunately, difficult by the definition of the NPA meant a couple of additional hours with his assistance. So far, no deduction had taken more than three; it was only springing the trap on occasion that was painfully slow. Of course, the Chief never allowed him so close to danger, letting a mix of parental responsibility and that towards civilians prevent field experience. 'There would be plenty of time for that,' Soichiro claimed, 'once you've finished your education and enter the NPA.'
The problem was, truthfully, that he had plenty of time now. And all he could do was listen to things he already knew and take in sights his eyes had seen thousands of times before.
Maybe if he had just started out differently. But back when he was a kid, being a genius had been exciting.
It was just too bad it got old too fast.
The blade of grass knelled over as a single drop landed upon its back. The brown eyes did not waver at the sight. A second drop landed on the windowsill, then several more as they blurred the image outside.
It was spring, and it was raining…just as the meteorology bureau had forecasted. Raito sighed again as he stared at the sight, new yet as familiar as all else in the world. It truly was a dreary world when even the weather was predictable.