DEPRIVED
"Well," said Matsuda, looking at Mogi, "They're both kind of used to getting things done their way, which isn't surprising, they're both really smart so it probably usually does anyway." Matsuda trailed off, looking at Mogi awkwardly, feeling as though he had already revealed too much even when the things he said were facts known to all.
Mogi nodded quietly before shrugging and turning away, looking as nonchalant as always. He wasn't though. Working with both Light and L was viewing a fireworks display too close; too much heat, intensity, too much showing off and in the blaze of their intensity, it was easy to miss things. It was easy to miss questions, and the one at the forefront of his mind when he looked upon the young men was: Do they know what it is to be deprived?
Mogi, looking at them now, could not think of an answer.
In retrospect, everyone's been deprived at one point in their life. He was sure that the intelligence both possessed was in itself a cause of deprivation, perhaps in contact with others, perhaps in understanding. Personally, L was deprived the filial background Light had, just as Light was deprived the opportunity to work with those of the same level of genius as he was. Mogi understood it to some extent; he had seen this at work during most of stay in the army, when looking into the eyes of the enemy. It was the belief that no one could possibly understand, in itself a vein of narcissism.
He shuddered to think of how gaping the chasm must be in both men, to wallow in the mediocrity of this world. If Light was Kira, and although he'd never agree with the man's methods, Mogi can understand how someone of such advanced intellect can resort to such actions to rid the world of a chaos that didn't make sense to them.
Funny, how intelligence eliminated all the grays when one would think that it would multiply it to a greater degree.
Have you ever been deprived?
Mogi asked that to himself, and he almost pursued that line of thought again but the rise of Light's voice above the din of the office distracted him.
"What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not Kira?"
"Absolutely nothing, Light-kun. The evidence will lead inevitably to the truth, and what you do now for the sake of doing it will be inconsequential and, therefore, irrelevant," said L, eyes as wide as always, voice cold and his words stretched out in a slow drawl. L's words came to Mogi like a punch in the face, and he would have started laughing hysterically if it wasn't so damn irrational to so.
Because, in those words, Mogi finally came to the answer he had been looking for.
There was nothing to deprive because both youths did not ask from the world anything they couldn't take in the first plane and fuck, wasn't that just terrifying? In the light of his thoughts, so twisted and surprising to him, Mogi looked upon both boys, both perfection and eccentric in form and he knew too, as he had known with such solid conviction, that there was nothing more deprived than this:
To stay in full view of the truth that the game being played was the only thing both boys asked of the world, and that the world was going to pay for it with its life.