Those numbers, they bleed.
Twenty-Three Percent
| just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me |
.
.
If she has –
If Sayu has recurring dreams; the kind where her big brother is seated upon a throne, the edges coated with blood, a magenta cloak draped around his shoulders, a golden crown on the top of his head, worn crooked, strands of hair peeking from underneath and, holding his chin in one hand, gazing at a thousand of dead bodies, now adorning the floor, with a bored expression on his pretty, pretty face –
"Someone followed me home today." Sayu hums as he talks, back pressed on her bed, holds up a hand and points towards the ceiling.
(she'll never tell).
"Yes, I know." Ryuk lets out a strangled laugh, yellow beady eyes staring back at her with obvious amusement (she is friends with the Shinigami who lives inside her house, the one who is tied to her brother because of the Death Note, but is tied to her now even more because she shares his eyes, but hush – that's a secret).
"No." Light shakes his head, a small movement with too much grace, the kind that should be impossible for just one teenage boy. "I mean a man, in a black coat, trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably, a spy."
Paranoia suits her brother so well.
"So?" Her desk chair, the one Light uses as though his, whips so quickly that one second, she's staring at her brother's back and the next she is met with chocolate brown eyes, an exact replica of hers (but he's the older brother, she is the replica, the spare, the one in case the first one did not work).
"So? It's obviously part of L's plan." She nods her head at his wide eyes, a bit bored of the subject, of all things L.
"I know that." She doesn't point out that if Light had been a little more level-headed, L wouldn't even be in Japan right now. "But even if he has you followed, he won't find anything. What would the report say – Light Yagami, perfect son, perfect student, a little too serious, needs to have more fun?"
There's a moment of silence and then a smirk on her brother's lips as he moves away from the chair – her chair – and plops down on the bed next to her.
"Yeah, they wouldn't find anything." There's a smugness to his tone, she can almost see it dripping down the corner of his mouth. It's the closest to him admitting she is right he'll ever get. "And that would piss off L even more, wouldn't it – knowing that Kira is so close and that he can't do anything about it…"
She would call her brother delusional, if he wasn't right. Who would possibly believe that an eighteen-year-old, a child and such a promising one, could be responsible for so many deaths and not feel one ounce of remorse for it?
People are stupid like that.
"Ne, do either of you have apples stashed around here somewhere?"
.
.
Unlike her brother, Sayu's popularity steams from the fact that she is so casual.
Her voice is calm; airy; as if perpetually woken up from a dream. She's smart, always coming up second in every subject, but not too smart – it makes her approachable.
"You're pretty popular, little miss." She throws an apple in the air and Ryuk catches it, cradles it like one would an newborn infant and then shoves it in his mouth in a swift move, the fruit disappearing instantly.
Winter break is close and the air is chilly, her gloved hand holds the bag her mother packed for her to deliver to her father.
"Am I?" Everyone around her is much too young for her to actually take an interest. If boys turn to look at her when she walks by, she doesn't notice. There's something wrong about the whole ordeal – she'd already be thirty-eight by now.
Ryuk huffs and puffs, trailing after her as she walks towards the Police Department. Sayu's only been twice before, mostly because her brother had dragged her along with him (by the time he's thirteen, he's known around their father's office as the sickeningly sweet genius ready to lend a hand).
Sayu has no actual interest in cases, not that she needs to.
"How would your father react, little miss, if he knew his son was the killer he is chasing after?" A distorted laugh comes out of the Shinigami. "Is your entire family as understanding as you?" She pauses in front of the glass doors, looks up at the sky.
"I think it would be a mess." Because Sayu knows her father and her father may love his family, but he loves his job more. "So, let's make sure he doesn't find out." And with that she shrugs her shoulders, finally opening the door and walking into the bureau.
From the reflection of the glass, she catches Ryuk's grin and the mock salute he sends her way before he vanishes into thin air – probably to go annoy her brother.
"Hi." She says to the receptionist, ignoring the red numbers at the top of the woman's head. "I'd like to see my father?" Unlike her brother, Sayu's popularity steams from the fact that she is so casual.
But that doesn't mean she can't twist everyone around her finger with soft smiles, her breathy tone and that innocence that is suited for someone who would be fifteen.
When she sees the red numbers at the top of her father's head, sees the worn-out smile and the dark circles around his eyes, makes a quick calculation and realizes that his lifespan is just too short –
Well, that just won't do.
"Daddy, I want you home for Christmas." She bats her eyelashes and her father's voice is hoarse, his shirt is wrinkled because he's been sleeping in desk chair. "Even mass murderers take holidays sometimes."
Eventually, he relents (because Light may be his little soldier, but she is his little girl and she wants him home for Christmas, so he'll be there) and those red numbers at the top of his head bleed and add another year.
.
.
Her father is there on Christmas morning and when her and Light crawl out of their bedrooms, he's already seated at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper and her mother is all smiles as she serves breakfast.
Her brother and her share a look (and mass murderers really do take holidays every once in a while).
.
.
"Welcome…" A bored voice trails off as black eyes move upwards, finally reaching her light brown ones. "Oh, Sayu-chan, it's nice to see you."
And the clerk really does seem happy; to see her, dressed in his red vest, seated on a stool behind the cash register.
She prefers University bookshops, especially the kind that stock up Law books – from corporate law to criminal law, they have it all here and cheaper than most.
"It's nice to see you too, Adachi-Senpai." Her eyes trail overs the newly stocked shelves, completely disregarding the red numbers at the top of the young adult's head. It looks like he'll have a nice long life at least. "Mind if I take a look?"
"Go ahead. Check out the shelves at the back, I just put up new books." She smiles, nodding her head. It's a quiet day. She spots a few people here and there, stops by the Law section written in bright bold blue letters and skims the titles with her eyes until they lend on something remotely interesting.
A hand connects with hers and, as she turns around to apologies (but her hand doesn't move because that's the book she wants and whoever it is can just wait) …
Her first impression of L Lawliet – and what an odd name that is, but that hardly matters anyways because his lifespan is rather short – is blue jeans, a white shirt, a pair of shoes that looks brand new and black eyes, thumb trailing from pouty lips.
"Sorry, Yagami-chan." He doesn't look sorry at all and with a raised eyebrow and soft eyes, she tilts her head to the side.
"Do I know you?"
"You look just like your brother."
a/n : Welcome back to another chapter. I feel a little bad for the cliff hanger, but next chapter, well - L. I read all of your reviews and I noticed that some of you mentioned romance. Now, I don't want to say that there won't be any romance, but it's just not the focus of this story. Also, I don't know if people's lifespan can change, but let's say that for the purpose of this story, they can. Thank you for all of your reviews, feedback is much appreciated. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed and drop a review ~