Have you guys heard The Sound of Silence, the remake by Disturbed? I don't always listen to them, but right now that's my all time favorite song. His voice is absolutely perfect for it! And my applause for the original songwriters, too. The lyrics are so much better than what most people write these days. Can you guys tell that I despise pop music? I swear, it's cancer. Of course there are exceptions. I love Kelly Clarkson and a some songs spotted here and there, but those are just exceptions. Pop usually makes me want to bang my head against a wall. I can stand basically any other genre of music (save for most of country), but pop is where I draw the line. Well, even if you're a fan of pop music, you should go listen to the song mentioned above. It's great. You'll love it.
Without further ado, onto the story!
"So this is where we worked?" I search for confirmation.
"Yeah, this is it," Light nods, presenting the room with the flourish of a hand. Really, it's nothing extraordinary. One wall houses a multitude of screens with a long desk situated before it, and behind a staircase there's a sitting area with couches. If there's anything amazing about the space, it's how tall it is. The stairs obviously lead to another floor, but the ceiling extends higher than the university classrooms' despite the floor above.
"It seems…" I search for a word. "Comfortable."
"L didn't want anything unnecessary in here," he laughs softly, scratching the back of his neck. L is apparently a touchy subject with him and his dad, so I suspect it to be the same among the other members of the team. It doesn't bother me, but I think it'd be best not to bring it up.
The rest of the investigation team is gathered on and around the couches, all eyes turning to us. I let out a long breath to relax my nervous tension, then bow.
"Please take care of me, gentlemen."
The youngest, Matsuda, clears his throat and hands me a paper file. "We, uh...lost all the data on the computers. Watari deleted all of it before Kira...killed him."
I ignore the fact I have no idea who Watari is and flip open the file. They must have stored most all of it in computer databases, because there's barely anything at all in this. That was not a clever move on their part. I guess I should have pushed them to back everything up in physical form, but there's no use regretting it now.
There's a description of everything they know about the Death Note, which irks me. Why do I know more about the Note beyond what they have here? Other than that, there's a tiny list of possible suspects with percentages next to the names that look to have been erased and changed numerous times. Slight surprise dawns over me when I find my own name on it, but next to it is a dark 0%. Under it, however, a strong 76% has been erased. Did they really think it was me? I mean, I'm on the team! My teeth also clench when my eyes skim over Light's name. The current number beside it is less than a single percent, but I can't even make out a single one of the erased numbers underneath because it's been changed so many times. The thickest list in the file turns out to be the list of known Kira victims. I stop breathing as I lift paper after paper to reveal tiny names filling each and every inch of the white. Just how many people has this person killed?
Or, is it a person? Could it possibly be a shinigami? They would surely have the ability to do this and elude human investigation at the same time. But I shouldn't even know about the existence of shinigami, so why would anyone suspect that? And what would drive an unobtrusive death god to go on a rampage?
"There's one more thing we didn't put in there," Matsuda informs me. I wait for him to enlighten me, but he hesitates. Seeing this, Aizawa picks up where he left off.
"I know it's hard to believe, but the thing that owned the Death Note was a shinigami."
"Shinigami?" So they did know about it? Then they could see it? But he said 'owned'. A shinigami can't lose possession over a Death Note unless they give it to another shinigami. They can only lend it to a human.
"I know it sounds ridiculous," Mr. Yagami sighs, crossing his arms and leaning back into the couch. "It's true, though. I promise, we aren't just insane. You saw it too, before losing your memory."
"But...you said 'owned'."
Light laughs, drawing all of our attentions. "You aren't even questioning the shinigami's existence? You were quick to accept it the first time, but that was after you saw it! You're amazing, Kameko."
My mouth can't close, words not forming. Well I...I just...I mean, I could see it when I first woke up. I already knew what it was, too. Losing my memory didn't take my ability to see it, I guess.
"I said owned," Aizawa explains, "because we can't find the shinigami. We're pretty certain she died."
She? Died? First of all, the shinigami I saw was not a female. Second, a shinigami doesn't just die. There's no way a death god would simply allow its time to run out. It would use the life of humans to prolong it, like always. And there's no way- I take that back. Maybe this is purely a human line of thought, but shouldn't it be possible for a shinigami to get attached to their contractor? If not like a friend, then at least like a pet? And aren't there humans out there who would die for their animal?
"Who were...who was the person this L guy was zeroing in on before he died?" I demand, glancing between all their faces.
"We've already eliminated her as a possibility," Light says, taking the file from me. He slips out another list and hands it to me, pointing to one of the names. "Misa Amane. We suspected her of being a second Kira, but as I insisted she was innocent. There's a rule in the Death Note that removes her from the list."
"A rule in the Death Note that nullifies the possibility?" I whisper, dubious. That doesn't sound right. I swear there's nothing like that. My denial, although nagging, sends relief flooding through me. Finally, something I don't know!
This thought causes me to pause, staring at the floor blankly. Finally? Did I really just think that? I can't remember anything! These little facts about the Death Notes and shinigamis have been a light in the darkness for me. And here I am wishing I knew less? I wish my memory would come back so I can know everything!
"Kameko?"
Matsuda's voice jolts me from my trance. I meet his eyes, apologizing. "Sorry, I just...I thought...I had figured something out. But if there's a rule in the Death Note like that….Could I possibly see it?"
"Ah, sure," Light steps forward. Approaching the desk, he takes from his pocket a small key and unlocks one of the drawers. When his hand retracts with the black book, every fiber of my being magnifies towards it. I want it in my hands. Now.
When he holds it out to me, it takes everything in my power not to snatch it from him. I open the cover. There, the rules are laid plain and simple in English. How convenient. As far as I know, shinigami can be heard speaking any language. Did they choose to write in English because of the popularity of it? If that was the case, they had full intentions of handing it over to a human.
"I don't see anything that would….as far as I'm aware, none of these rules could eliminate a suspect."
"Look in the back," Light directs me.
Sure enough, there are two more written on the back cover. One is about how if the owner fails to use the Death Note within a period of 13 days, they will die. The other speaks of death to all who have touched the Note if it is ever destroyed.
I was aware of neither of these rules.
But even so, they're listed, so they must be true. Who am I, a mere human, to reject the rules written there by, of all things, a god of death. "Alright, so then I assume we held the suspect for a period over thirteen days." I close the book and hand it back to Light, who in turn locks it away again.
"Oh!" He appears to remember something. "Kameko, this is yours." He picks up a long, black feather quill off the desk and holds it out to me. Immediately when my eyes land on the quill, a duller version of the attraction I felt towards the Death Note overtakes me. I pluck it away from him and examine it. I would call it a raven feather, but it seems a bit too long. What else could it be, though? "You weren't as attached to it as your gloves, but you loved carrying it around."
Yes, I love having it my hands. It gives me a sense of….is it nostalgia? Nostalgia or not, it feels familiar, which is a relief. What interests me, though, is that the tip is dipped in red ink, but I see no inkwell. With an inkwell or without, though, I don't particularly care. It is a possession of mine, which is something I dreadfully lack at the moment.
Although, I guess these clothes are technically my own, even if Mrs. Yagami did buy them with her money. I lost count of how many stores she and Sayu dragged me to last night. In the end, since I was terrified of the clothes passing through me, I only allowed them to buy things made of the same materials I woke up wearing. For the only two days I can remember, I wore a wool shirt and cotton pants, so now the entire wardrobe they were kind enough to formulate for me consists only of cotton, wool, and real leather. At some point I will have to privately test exactly what I can and cannot touch. For now, I'm going to stick with what I know is safe. I'm assuming that since I liked this quill so much, that I can probably touch it without my gloves. I just don't want to test that theory right now in front of everyone.
"So,um…." I wonder, glancing between them all. "Is there a specific point you want to pick up on? Is...well, if the previous leader is gone, then...who…?"
"We had wanted that to be you," Aizawa informs me, "until you lost your memory."
"I'll take his place!" Light declares abruptly. "I'll take lead of the investigations and avenge Watari and Ryuzaki! Kira will pay for murdering them!"
"Um….who is Ryuzaki?" Once again, my question lands all eyes on me. I shrink under their gazes, uneasy.
Light, however, is kind enough to explain. "Ryuzaki...and L are the same person. They were both aliases he used, and we never learned his real name."
"Really? You never knew his name?"
"He knew it'd be safer, but even that didn't help him in the end."
Ah, I wanted to avoid this topic. This was not what I wanted to make the atmosphere like. Should I change the subject? To what? I could ask another question, but nothing floats to the surface of my mind. Right now, I'm still curious about this unnamed, yet mutli named figure.
"Oh, there's a picture!" Matsuda recalls, slipping the file from my hands and pulling out a small square. I take it from him.
Shivers zip through my skin as I meet the photograph's gaze. Staring back at me are large, black eyes shadowed by dark bags. His hair matches his eye color, disheveled as if it hasn't seen a brush in months. His skin is so pale, it rivals the spotless shirt he wears.
Something inside of me squeezes.
"He looks young," I mention casually, noticing as I do that my fingers are clenching the picture too hard. I relax the muscles, then force the shaking to stop. Who is this person? Why does my body react like this to just a picture?
"Yes, we all thought the same," Mr. Yagami nods. "Except for you. I don't think you ever questioned it."
"Well, I'm not much younger," I assume. I still lack the knowledge of my exact age, but I know I'm older than Light, and the person in this picture seems to be around my age physically. Although, he looks incredibly skinny, which might give him an appearance younger than he actually is.
"So?"
I look over at Light, blinking. "So what?"
"Do you remember anything? I was thinking that maybe seeing his picture might help you remember something."
"No," I murmur. "Nothing in particular." But even so, I can barely breathe. I turn the photograph downwards, giving it back over to Matsuda. He sticks it back in the file, but still, I don't recover. The moment the others distract themselves with chatter, I suck in as deep a breath as I can and close my eyes to focus on releasing tension. Within a few seconds, I'm back to normal. When I open the eyes though, I discover I haven't escaped Light's attention. He holds my gaze for only a short while before returning to his conversation with his father.
I take a seat next to Mogi on the couch, crossing my legs and arms and staring absently at the table in front of me. So, so many questions battle in my brain with no answers. Who is this L? What was he to me? Who was I before that I came to be involved in this investigation in the first place? Why?
Why can't I remember any of it?
Business has been extremely slow lately...Seriously, did everyone just go on vacation or something? If I don't hear from you guys, I get horribly discouraged. Please, talk to me! I'm lonely! I got such a promising reaction when I posted the first chapter, too...I kinda got my hopes up. Ah, I hate it when this happens. Sorry for complaining, but really. I don't care what you say. You can criticize or just rant or praise or complain. I like hearing whatever you guys have to say. Well, I shouldn't be pushing you guys like this. Forget I said anything. (Please don't.) I'll post again in the next few days.
Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko. :3 MEOW!
