Chapter 9
My feet poked out of my cocoon of blankets to be met with a shot of cold air. I whipped them back inside, mumbling something. I was still partially dreaming. I tried to dive back into the comforting mist of my subconscious: Which consisted of being locked in a room with the many personas of the famed Johnny Depp. They were all arguing with each other over the benefits of pineapple flavored socks.
(Needless to say, I didn't want to wake up.)
I groaned, knowing full well I'd be in trouble if I didn't prepare breakfast pronto before Uncle awoke. "Ok," I murmured, my eyes still shut tightly. "I'm up, I'm up." I lifted my head and KONKED it on something extremely solid. Immediately, I curled back into a ball and gripped my head tightly, cursing softly to myself. Did I fall asleep under the kitchen table again?
I carefully inched backwards and dragged myself to my feet, letting the blankets pool sorrowfully around me. They clung to my legs, beckoning me to return to sleep, but I forced myself to ignore the temptation. I rubbed my eyes and sighed drowsily as I stumbled across the carpet, feeling my way blindly for the bathroom. I'll just take a quick shower first.
I found the door and lurched inside, reaching for the towel rack. I managed to shrug off the prickly feeling of something being terribly wrong and blamed it on the early start to the morning. I was far too sleepy to process things properly anyway. Too lazy to get the light, I enjoyed the solidarity of darkness. Hot water whooshed out of the tap and the room began to fill with steam. I kicked my clothes to the side and stepped into the tub, sighing softly at the soothing feeling of warm water rushing down my skin.
Several things came to my attention at once.
One: We had warm water, we NEVER have warm water.
Two: The shampoo was scented kiwi-lemon fresh instead of my usual strawberry-tangerine.
And Three: Normally my tub is so small my shoulders squish against the side, where areas this shower was luxuriously large.
Covered in suds and confused, I began to consider that this was not, in fact, my apartment at all. I tried thinking back and found I wasn't able to recall anything from yesterday. Have I ended up in some stranger's apartment? The idea made my cheeks turn green. Oh dear. . .
The tap squeaked loudly as I twisted it off and snatched a towel. I shook my head like a dog, drying my hair half-heartedly. I hastily wrapped the towel around me tightly and picked up my clothes, crossing the bathroom in two quick strides.
I swung open the bathroom door—and shut it as quickly as possible.
There had been a person standing outside: hunched over and holding a gift basket as far away from his body as possible, to be specific.
I leaned my back against the door, breathing hysterically and feeling my forehead for any signs of fever. It's not possible. My eyes widened and I rushed over to the counter. I leaned across the granite sink and wiped my arm across the mirror. I gasped at my appearance, exaggerated ten fold by the animated tints and colors.
I'm still here, I'm still in Death Note.
It wasn't a dream.
"OH, COME ON!" I shouted heatedly, tossing my clothes at the wall. I kicked the air and yelled some more callous words (that I probably shouldn't repeat), which only ended with me accidentally knocking the contents of the medicine cabinet into the sink. Breathing heavily, I stared into my reflection. So, this is real then? Like some sort of alternate dimension? I glanced gloomily at a broken roll of toothpaste as its filling oozed onto the floor. Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. . .
My head perked up when someone knocked deliberately sluggishly on the door, reminding me that I had forgotten something. I gripped my towel firmly, swallowed some excess spit and opened the door with an aura of confidence.
L was still standing there in the same pose, wearing identical clothes from last night (if not a little more wrinkled). He scratched his pant leg and held out the (extremely large) gift basket. It was expertly wrapped with a vividly bright green bow and I could see an assortment of sweets (some suspiciously appeared to have already been opened) beneath the plastic cover.
Not knowing what to say, I stared at the gift basket (never gotten one of those before).
L, exasperated that it was taking me so long to understand the gesture, spoke first. "I believe it is custom to say 'thank you', Miss Krispy. Welcome to the team."
"Gee, this is so unexpec—"
L released his hold on the handle and dropped it into my arms.
The surprising weight pulled my whole body to the ground, smacking my chin against the floor, "OOMF!" I struggled to pull myself to my feet whilst holding the hefty item, distantly wondering how L was able to carry the basket with only two fingers.
L took a step back to give me some space as I wobbled unsteadily, my face obscured by the giant green bow. "You're not going to lie down on the job like that all the time, are you?" He asked and cocked his head to the side.
"You're absolutely hilarious," I huffed, lugging the gift over to the bed and setting it down amongst the throng of velvet red pillows. "A mirthful, sidesplitting comic is what you are," I brushed my hands off and turned back to him.
L's thumb was positioned softly on his bottom lip as he stared at me.
I placed my hands on my hips and arched an eyebrow. "What are you looking at?"
"You are aware you're still wearing a towel, yes?" He pointed out without the slightest change in expression.
I nearly died.
I spun L around and proceeded in pushing him out the room. "Thank you for coming but I'm afraid our time is up," I said and shoved him out into the hall.
L raised a finger in the air, "One moment, Miss Krispy."
I pressed my lips together and did my best to pretend I wasn't embarrassed (and failing miserably). I tapped my fingers against the door impatiently, "What is it?"
I caught my breath as L invaded my personal space, he leaned perilously forward until our faces were merely inches apart. L eyed my frozen figure for a moment. "You have something in your teeth."
SLAM
I spent the next few minutes flying around the room like a crazy woman in search of clothes, all the while scheming on how to get back at L (I wonder what would happen if I switched his coffee with decaf?) I discovered a beige pair of dress pants and a white collar shirt tucked away in the bottom dresser drawer, problem was: they were ASTRONOMICALLY too big for me. By the time I had finished rolling up my sleeves and pant legs, my limbs appeared significantly disproportionate to my body (like a munchkin who mixed up their laundry with an extremely well dressed giant).
I adjusted the collar and ran my fingers through my damp hair. I left the gift basket beside the bed before nudging open the door with my hip and peeked cautiously outside, working up the courage to face whatever lay ahead. Once I found the nerve, I started to travel towards the softly spoken voices down the hall, passing numerous dreary paintings along the way.
"Ah, Miss Krispy, glad to see you up and about," L was propped up in his preferred chair with his hands resting on his knees, like two pale spiders perched on skinny logs.
The rest of the detectives were sitting on various other pieces of furniture, tired from a long day at work. Unlabelled files lay open on the table in front of them along with steaming mugs of hot coffee. An orange glow streaked through the window as the sun began to set over Tokyo city. I realized I must have slept through the whole day. What do they call that, jet lag for the trans-dimensionally insane?
"Miss Krispy will be aiding us from now on," L said calmly as he began to untwist the wrapper of a caramel flavored hard candy.
I wandered over to the kitchen area in search of food; opening and closing cupboards and rattling pots and pans without much concern for the task force's conversation. All I discovered was a half eaten box of instant noodles and some empty Tupperware (which is a shame really, I was craving an omelette).
Grumblings of uncertainty broke through the air at L's statement.
"Ryuzaki, where is this coming from?" Aizawa protested loudly. "Isn't she a suspect in the investigation?"
L placed the candy on his lips but didn't take a bite, as if he was still trying to make up his mind. "No," L mumbled, "she is obviously not Kira, that much is clear," he bit the candy in half.
"What I think Aizawa is trying to ask you, Ryuzaki," the Chief said, motioning for Aizawa to calm down, "is how this young girl," he glanced over at me, "will be useful to this case?" The Chief exhaled quietly at the end of every couple of words, as if even speaking drained him. He looked like he had aged five years overnight: streaks of grey coursed throughout his hair, his eyes were weary and his frown lines much more prominent.
"Truthfully," L said and plopped the candy in his mouth, savoring its taste, "I have no idea."
I felt my eye twitch as I snatched an apple from a decoratively placed fruit bowl and lifted myself up onto the counter. You really know how to make a girl feel special, L.
It took me several minutes to realize the apple I was trying to eat was plastic.
My stomach growled tetchily as I tossed the useless ornamental piece into the sink and watched it role around the stainless steel walls with a glum expression. How am I ever going to get home? I bent my head forward and ruffled my wet hair, as if to try and empty all the loose thoughts out of my head. Gah! How could any of this happen? There's just got to be a reasonable explanation for all this!
The officers were looking over at me with doubtful expressions.
"But," L continued, staring at the impressions in the ceiling, "she will be with us for quite some time. I am afraid I will have to ask you to take it as is."
Chief Yagami heaved a sigh. "Very well, Ryuzaki. Is that all for the day?"
"Yes, you may go."
The officers put on their coats and fumbled with their car keys as they walked towards the front door, making faces and mumbling their thoughts once they passed me (I was currently picking at something in between my toes). I heard Matsuda call goodbye before he was pushed down the hallway by Aizawa. I waved absentmindedly over my shoulder as the door shut behind them.
"If you are hungry, Miss Krispy, room service is available at all hours of the day," L said through a mouthful of caramel candies.
I swung my legs back and forth, "Is that so?" I hopped off the counter. "Maybe I will."
I watch L in my peripheral vision as he turned back to his lap top while I began dialing the phone.
It rang twice before a young man picked up.
"Hello?" I twisted the phone cord playfully with my finger.
In perfect English, the man said cheerfully "Good evening! What can I do for you?"
I paused and glanced over at L, who was ignoring me completely. "Is it true that I can order whatever I want, even Western style food?"
"Of course ma'am!"
Anything I want huh? "What was your name again?"
"Ryoichi, ma'am."
"Ryoichi," a forecasting grin spread across my face, "I think you just became my new best friend."
L refused to allow any hotel employees into the suite, so I had to push the carts in one by one from the hallway.
It was the most food I'd ever seen in my entire life.
There were mountains of chicken wings piled high on silver platters, every different style of French fry imaginable, shish kabobs arranged in order of spiciness, trophy sized mugs filled to the brim with milkshake mixtures and medium rare steaks covered in special sauce.
I haven't even gotten to the deserts.
Jell-O squares stacked into pyramids wobbled as the white-clothed cart entered the room. There were sundaes, banana splits, soufflés, crème brûlées, cherry sauce, caramel squares and truffle cake.
I've died and gone to heaven.
I clapped my hands gleefully and hopped up and down. "I don't know what to eat first!"
I pulled out a chair and grabbed a fork in high spirits. But just as I was about to spear a piece of truffle cake, a pasty white hand flashed into existence from over my shoulder and disappeared with the desert. I slowly twisted my head around, my jaw hanging loose in disbelief.
Arched behind me with his own fork and enjoying the scrumptiousness of truffle cake that I will never experience, was L. He waved his fork in the air like a conductor's wand, his cheeks bulging. "I'm sorry, were you going to eat that?"
"Err, no. You go ahead." I shook off the annoyed feeling of being scammed and reached for a bowl of strawberries (smothered in three layers of chocolate) Before my fingers could touch a single piece of scarlet fruit, the entire bowl was plucked out of thin air.
L, humming a classical tune, sauntered around the table with both dishes and set them down out of reach, disregarding my evil glares.
"L, there are a million different dishes on the table," I said slowly, my eye twitching, "why do you have to eat the ones I want?"
"A million is quite the overstatement, Miss Krispy. I would say there are merely 26 items—Mm, this is delicious," he licked his fingertips one by one.
"You are unbelievable."
"Why thank you."
I grudgingly snatched a chicken wing and ripped out a chunk with my teeth.
This was going to be a long night.
End of Chapter 9
Gotta love L. :)
