Notice to the fictitious readers of this story: If this story had a soundtrack, it'd be "In the hall of the Mountain King" from the Social Network OST. Listen to it on youtube [ watch?v=cD8EPdn5Ctg]; just keep that in mind whilst the story pans out.
If you're more traditional classical lover, you may prefer the original by Grieg [ watch?v=ZAiEPUu0iO4], that'd work just as well. I like the Reznor and Ross version; the sinister nuances kinda remind me of Taro…
I must warn: this chapter is very graphic. Read with caution.
With school resuming on the first of December, Light would finally meet his friend and have his questions answered. Do shinigami exist? If so, how do they look like? Who was that first victim? Poems? Haikus: why that type?
But of all: why? Why those people? What did they do?
Taro walked into school with his usual slumped demeanour. His eyes, rather than fixated on the black text of a book, were analysing that picture he found in his aunt's book. He kept it on his person ever since; a constant reminder of his purpose. He flipped it around and around with his index and middle finger, hypnotised by the rhythmical repetition of this movement.
Out the corner of his eye, Taro walked past the spot where it all began. The patch of grass looked limp; a pale lime green, mimicking the sick feeling seeing this photo gave Taro. The winter chill chewed the life out of the grass.
Taro completely forgot about Ryuk – he became almost like a detachable tail that trailed with him everywhere he went. Supposed it's because Taro didn't go out often enough to even feel the shinigami's presence. But he was instantly reminded as he met up with Light.
Light just stood. His books he carried had long fallen on the path of gravity and the pages were beginning to moisten from the thawing light snow. He seemed stunned, frozen in place and just stared out beyond Taro's right shoulder.
A monstrous creature was suspended a metre above the air; its legs bended at the knee to stop it from touching the ground. Its long expanse of angel-like wings kept the creature afloat, but it was nothing like an angel. Its face, pure horror like Satan had carved it himself. There was no way this thing could be of earthly origins.
A shinigami - it must all be true! The questions that plagued Light moments ago fluttered out his mind. For a second, he even forgot the human gift of speech. He just gawked.
Taro's brows burrowed into a deep frown. What was he staring at? He followed Light's eye path over his shoulder and only saw Ryuk. Nobody, not even Taro's aunt could see Ryuk, so it was impossible that Light could see him.
Or was it?
Ryuk broke out into his usual cackle; oh what entertainment it was to see the humans learn about the Death Note. Light's eyes widened to the point that his balls may fall out of his socket; this verified to Taro that Light could see the shinigami.
Taro sighed, unprepared for this occurrence. He slipped the photo into his pocket after a quick glance through gritted teeth, and thought of where they could go to explain what was going on. They needed somewhere private, somewhere warm – inside the school; and soon before anyone noticed how drawn out this weird reaction had been. Although consumed with chatter of their holidays, Taro did not want to risk their peer's eavesdropping.
Swopping their usual roles temporarily, Taro picked up Light's books and placed them in his hands; he held them as if it was a natural response. He guided him down the corridor and Light's body obliged.
As they walked down the corridor and the coldness thawed out of them and Light seemed to be less and less shocked by the shinigami's presence. By the time they reached their destination (a science lab), Light had adjusted. He gained back his consciousness and the questions returned. About to voice one, Taro spoke first.
"Why can he see you?" His question was directed at the shinigami. Taro leaned against the window frame, legs and arms crossed, facing towards the room and to Ryuk. The shinigami laughed as it usually did; Taro unfazed by his constant cackles.
"Don't you remember? He touched the Death Note. All humans who touch the note are able to see the original owner of the note book"
And he never thought about mentioning this before?! A person touching the notebook was of no major concern to Taro; the note was permanently in its hiding place. The only unsecured area (if any) was his decision to bring a fragment of the paper with him to school.
Light wasn't sure if he was allowed to speak. What he hoped was a smooth inconspicuous move, Light slid into the first stool in the first bench by the door, the furthest point from Taro. The air was bitterly cold. Taro distanced himself from the group and stared out the large windows that looked out over the courtyard, but his head was tilted down into his chest, looking down at whatever his hands housed.
Is it okay to ask now? Light breathed deeply and just went for it: "Why haikus?"
Taro was dragged out from his deep pondering and whipped his head up. He peered to Light's wide-eyed reflection. Of all the news reports and television news broadcasts of the series of unexplained heart attacks, none mentioned the haikus. How would he have known? Taro's eyes narrowed, peering at the light reflection.
"Thought I'd stick to my Japanese routes" he responded sarcastically. Taro didn't want to face questioning – he didn't want to remember. With the presence of the man stuck in the little photo, the pain panged more.
He turned on the ball of his foot, preparing himself mentally for the realm of questions that were to follow. But questions there were none: Light sat awkwardly hunched over in the science classroom chair, fidgeting and quite reserved for his usual confident demeanour.
"You want to know why: why that building; why those people?" Taro asked nonchalantly, ending his question with a small yawn. Guess there's no bullshitting him… Light gave a small nod.
Taro tread carefully around his words, sounding each out with perfect pronunciation as if he did not want to get anything wrong. "Bode Living Apartments houses evil people, owned by an evil man. And they deserve to die."
Light didn't know how to react to that sweeping statement; he was taken aback. "Mr. B? How could he be evil? He's a well-known philanthropist." Just the week before there had been an announcement for his launch of his 20th charity organisation; Light mentioned this.
Taro's face contorted into pure disgust. His voice rose: "Merely a front to fool ignorant people like you."
These ominous statements… Light became defensive. Of all the rotten souls that roamed this earth, blinded by their selfish greed, Mr B was a good rich man – a man whose attribution to "richness" extends pass the confines of currency; Light would not allow for his image to be unjustifiably attacked like this. "Well, how would you know?"
"Because I'm his son." Taro turned to the window again, looking at the little man in the picture. He enjoyed this ringing pain that the picture caused. Accompanied by his last statement, the swirling of the different pains was almost intoxicating.
Light couldn't believe that. As the moments passed, his brain made connections between mysterious B and Taro. Light had never seen nor heard Mr B, so he couldn't rely on physicality to understand how they could be related. The only attribute he knew was secrecy and this mimicked Taro's exactly. The moments passed, the silence lingered and Light waited expectantly.
"He really is evil," Taro whispered. His voice was different; defeated, juvenile, like the little cry of a six year old – stark contrast to his low controlled voice.
Taro looked up from his picture, slipped it into his pocket yet again and decided to face Light. Standing with his bottom rested on the low hanging window sill, Taro crossed his feet and looked strained, avoiding Light's gaze, staring right across the room to the door. Grey he observed.
Light noticed the glossiness of Taro's eyes but thought best not to point this out.
"If you really want to know, I'll tell you." Taro took a deep breath in through his nose and breathed out through his mouth.
"I was five – four? Or maybe even six – I don't know," Taro was rambling, "but a man came to our home one summer's day. I have been raised by my aunt since birth, always wondered about my real parents but never asked. My aunt only ever mentioned that my mother had passed away at birth," Taro paused, gulped, "She always said this with a slight hesitation, but as the years continued, the hesitation became less obvious. That should have prepared me…
"I'd always known about my dad - or rather the idea I created of him. My juvenile mind assumed that he left me with my aunt because he was off being a hero to the rest of the world. That's what a good man would do, so that's what my father would do. That lie comforted my little soul. But that day when I was six, I got to meet the man I always held in high regard.
"I sat on a stool in our quaint house somewhere – we stayed there for such a short time I can't remember its name - eating a cereal and watching the leaves rustle outside. Peace –" Taro faced Light, "I remember feeling peace." He stared out forward again. "It was early autumn and our village tranquil in its peaceful silence. My aunt was still asleep, as she usually was in the morning. A rumbling of cars lifted dust – on my toes I could see over the canopy and see the brown leading towards our house.
"A forceful knock crashed on the door. A bit frighten, I placed my cereal bowl down with silent precision and scampered to my aunt's room. After shaking my aunt awake and telling her of the people at the door, she tied her gown and shuffled to the door. Yawning, she opened the door and instantly livened up."
Light shifted his seating position; Taro moved nothing but his mouth. "She said a name – I can't remember. But she said it with pure shock; as if a ghost just appeared. The man at the door wore a black suit; completely clean and undirtied by the environment. He was very misplaced.
"He was a jolly man with a broad smile from ear to ear. My body naturally responded back with an equally warmed smile and so did my aunt. As she realised that her lips curled into a smile, she quickly whipped back to a serious expression. With harshness, she grilled the man as to why he came all this way after 'all this time'. It was simple: he was there to take his little boy on holiday.
"And I instantly saw the resemblance: his eyes were larger versions of the ones I see in the mirror, his curled hair tamed with gel but visibly wild like mine in its natural state. I said yes. This choice wasn't for my aunt to make – I was going to see my dad.
"My aunt began to protest, but understood my want to see my father. The adults dismissed me to my room to have a conversation. It escalated to a heated discussion quickly, ending in my aunt storming off to her room. I peeked out the door to see if I was allowed to know what had happened. The black-haired man – my father – smiled again at me. Without much thought, I left with him."
Light wondered how Taro's voice hadn't become hoarse already, but his focus returned to the story mid-sentence, "—nd he said very simply that we were going to Cambodia to see my mother. In one day I went from parentless to having both mother and father. I was the luckiest kid. Or so I thought…
Stop with these foreboding statements… Light was slowly becoming irritated. But he remembered what this was all for: why were people in that building being killed? This answer was worth this long anecdote.
"We landed; the humidity made my clothes almost stick instantly. I scurried alongside my new found father in the airport; his long strides with his long legs made it difficult to keep up. The day was filled with useless chatter, laughter, but in the back of my mind, I was still thinking about my mother. He promised that I'd meet her; I was not going to let that promise slip.
"As we ate ice-cream in the late afternoon, I forced an answer out of him. With a secretive smile, he said 'tonight – you'll see your mother tonight'.
"The night came quickly, driven by my excitement. We booked into a seedy hotel in what I think was downtown, but at six years old, I couldn't tell. The dodgy environment made my skin tingle, but I ignored it: I was going to see my mother and father together so the setting didn't matter.
"We walked into a dimly lit hotel – it smelt damp which was unassisted by the boarded up windows. I hung close against my father's leg as we entered the lobby. Little speaking happened in this area; the mood was tense. I saw some loosely dressed ladies in the corner, their heads were lolling; their eyes hazed and blank as we locked eyes – this made me anxious, but I kept my feelings to myself. A large man, sweating from the sweltering heat of the evening came to us. He gestured his head towards me with an inquisitive look to my father. He shook his head 'no' to the large man and requested 'the usual'. With the vague statement, the large man understood. My father smiled down at me as we walked down a dark corridor to a room. Before my father opened the door, he told me I was going to see my mother now. Reluctantly, I smiled.
Shouldn't the bell be ringing now? Light thought. 7:15 the clock read; they had 5 minutes left.
"We entered a red room; cheap red velvet covered couch at one end; a king-sized bed on the other. I was told to sit on the couch and in await my mother's arrival. My father disappeared into an adjacent room.
"A few moments later, a woman with a blank, detached expression entered. Not noticing my quiet presence, she sighed heavily to herself and robotically performed her usual motions – as thought it was something that happened frequently that no longer required thought. She was scantily dressed in underwear that barely fitted, so I looked away speedily, confused and embarrassed at seeing her so exposed.
"Her face brightened up as she noticed me. We stared at each other without saying anything. Her tired eyes lit up as her exhausted face shifted into a long forgotten smile. 'Taro' she whispered and purely by the tone of her voice, I knew she was my mother. I began to smile back, but my father re-emerged. He shouted for silence and we both obliged.
"The fear that flickered in my mother's eye told me not to move or act otherwise. My father paced slowly around the bed, inspect my mother with a lustful eye. He climbed on the bed, dominating over my mother. He smiled sinisterly towards me with victory shining in his eyes as he… as he—" Taro spluttered into a violent but silent cry, hauling out deep repressed pain.
Taro painfully and clearly remembered the continuation of the story, but he couldn't say it out loud. He slid down and sat leaning against the wall, his knees against his chest. He arms wrapped around his knees, squeezing them closer to his chest as though this helped suppress the memory.
There was no need for Taro to continue. With his tearfulness and traumatised disposition, Light knew what he was alluding to. Light was reluctant; unsure of how to respond or deal with this situation. He looked around as if the answer lived somewhere in the room.
After moments of silence, through teary eyes, Taro quietly continued: "With every violent thrust of his pelvis, my mother cried out in pain but was instructed to be silent instantaneously. She looked out with pleading eyes through her tears, crying harder yet silently as she saw the horror across my face. My father looked back at me and smiled with pride as he performed his actions; his trophy every tear that soaked the cheap red bedding.
"As he huffed heavily as he finished; I was dismissed gruffly. My knees shook; I was barely able to walk out in a straight line. As I left the room, more dazed and blank women entered his room – probably to suffer the same fate. The large man from earlier appeared and ushered me to a car that took me some place. I closed my eyes, hoping the image would disappear, but her strickened face was forever imprinted in my conscience.
"I dunno what happened to me, where I slept or what happened after that. Somehow I found myself back on a plane heading towards Japan with that same large man escorting me. We spoke no words; he gruffly pushed me into my aunt's arms at the airport and left without so much as a glance backwards."
Taro started laughing – a laugh laced with cynical hatred. "As though it is some consolation, my one-day father gave us free-of-charge a home – no, a matchbox – to live in the city: a Bode living apartment, his new investment. He thought he could pay away what I saw – throw money at me as though it exonerates him. But it doesn't. I remember and no amount of money can ever make that memory disappear."
Taro stood up and straightened himself. His jaw locked; his teeth gritted with such force. He snapped his head and looked at Light with intensity. Speedily, he spat out:
"A man like that does not deserve to live. He must die and burn in the depths of hell's inferno. And the people who support him should also die." Taro's black eyes brimmed with tears that he fought with difficulty to keep back. There was only a glint of white shown in the caves of his eyes; the sign of his angered passion.
"And with the Death Note," he continued, "I can be the one to kill him."
Light stood dumbfounded. For the first time he felt that he could truly see Taro's nature. His brain couldn't comprehend all that it was being confronted with. Light looked at Taro in his raw state: a broken human. His secretive nature, his constant need to fill himself with information was only a means to block out what haunted him – it all made sense now. He felt sorry for him, but this didn't distract from the horrors he was committing with the Death Note.
"Taro," Light called out. There was no response; he was still engulfed in his nightmarish memories. Light carefully said: "But these people that you have killed… they don't deserve to die."
A hidden rage burst out and boiled over. Taro's eyes squinted into little slithers leering into Light's slightly fearful eyes. The overhead light made Taro's eyes be cast into shadow.
"What?" he hissed.
There was no doubt: Taro was deranged and in needed help – immediately.
Light became a little frightened, but maintained his composure. Calmly, softly but confidently and with caution, he responded, "Taro, what you're doing is wrong. These people don't deserve to die. What your dad did was wrong as well but—" Light was cut short.
"YOU DARE DEFY MY CAUSE?" Taro spat on Light's face; standing right against his face. He breathed deeply, consumed by pure anger.
Not waiting for a response, Taro in three lightning fast moves whipped out his Death Note fragment. With speed, he scribbled Light Yagami's name down with the pen he carried in his shirt pocket. He quickly considered the fact that they were in school.
Huffing from his anger spout, he slipped the pen back to its place in his pocket as he regained his breath. Still looking at the fragment, calmly Taro said:
"Light Yagami. At 20:30 today, you meet your end." He slipped the Death Note fragment into the pocket where his photo of Mr B was housed. Lifting his satchel and placing it on his left shoulder, Taro continued:
"No one will stand in my way - especially not you. I thought you were my friend. Guess it's true: no one can be trusted…"
The bell rang after Taro's last sound. He turned on the ball of his foot and left, continuing as if nothing happened.
A/N: I wish Taro's long anecdote was the simple musing of my twisted mind, but it is not. Slavery has not died - it simply changed its mask. Human trafficking happens every day. Men (and women) like Mr B find pleasure in the exploitation of the innocent and defenceless. It is happening to thousands of people right now as you read.
I wish I could counter the guilt-trip of above and create a sense of cheerful hope in telling your imploring souls what you can do now by adding some link to some website, but I am defeated. My heart aches for humanity, yet it has no outlet. Perhaps that's what I've been reduced to: wishing and hoping for the unattainable best.
I feel like a disgusting human being; too consumed with selfishness. I'm going take my pessimistic, cynical self and reflect.