Apocalypse
"Decide now, Light-kun. Are you going to work for me, or are you just going to kill yourself?"
"Don't say that."
"Why, Light-kun? After all, that's what you're going to do, isn't it?"
"How can you say that so casually?"
"Because I don't think you're serious."
Silence fell as their eyes met. Time seemed to stretch out as chocolate eyes stared in mixed fury and disbelief at unflinching charcoal orbs. Those eyes were so cold, infuriatingly impervious to a stare that would have made lesser men flee without knowing why.
Light took a shallow breath, unwilling to let Ryuzaki know how much such a brief part of their conversation had upset him. Things had been going so well, and he willingly admitted that the interview was interesting even if Ryuzaki occasionally annoyed him. Now the man had clearly implied that he knew Light better than he himself did.
Ryuzaki was not a wise old man, and Light was certainly not an errant child that needed to be told how things were since he couldn't figure them out on his own.
Despite the fact that his normal response to this sort of indignity would have been a well-phrased sarcastic or condescending comment, he could think of nothing worth saying. He wanted to know why Ryuzaki doubted his sincerity, but he couldn't come out and ask him. He refused.
Ryuzaki seemed to take his silence for surprise or shock.
"You don't like my choice of words? How would you put it?" The man went back to eating his dessert, Light's rage rolling off him like water off a duck's back. Light frustratedly followed suit, separating pieces of grilled salmon with his chopsticks before daintily picking them up, deliberately slowing the blood that had been pounding through his veins.
"I prefer to think of it as leaving this rotten world while I still have my sanity. I'm not going to wait around for the apocalypse." Ryuzaki waited, his spoon still in his mouth and his eyes wide. When it was clear that was all Light was going to say, he pulled it out with a slight pop, his eyes still wide open yet managing to convey disbelief now.
"Pretty words, Light-kun, but I never took you for a poet." Light almost laughed at the sudden image he had of himself, 20 pounds lighter with black eyeliner around his eyes, sitting on a salt-encrusted rock overlooking the ocean with a notebook in his hand. Some poet he would make. Ryuzaki commandeered the sugar bowl as he continued, "How is the world rotten?"
"Watch the news, Ryuzaki. Crime, wars, genocide, corruption. Take your pick of those for starters." His flippant tone of voice surely conveyed he had spent much time thinking about this. It wasn't a snap decision, after all.
"But Light-kun, those are the very things you would be dealing with as a member of the NPA. They've always existed." Ryuzaki's almost child-like use of his name made him sound younger, especially when he was clutching the sugar bowl like a prized toy and emptying fully half the contents into his coffee. Surely at this point the taste didn't even resemble coffee anymore, more like brown sugar water. Light shuddered and took a bite of his salmon, which was simultaneously tangy and spicy, and banished the imagined taste of Ryuzaki's drink from his mind.
"That doesn't make them any easier to live with everyday." Light had already realized the paradox that Ryuzaki spoke of: that without the crime and corruption he so despised, he would be out of a job.
"Why don't you call it what it is?" Ryuzaki reverted to their earlier argument without any warning.
"What does it matter what words I use? I'm saying clearly enough that I want to die."
"Call it suicide, Light-kun. When you dodge the issue like you are, you make me doubt even more that you're serious." Ryuzaki cocked an eyebrow at him as he took a sip of his sugary sludge, the cup's handle pinched between two fingers.
"Maybe I just don't care for that particular word's connotation."
"It's what the coroner's report would say. 'Cause of death: suicide.' It's a medical and legal term, not just a romanticized idea. I don't understand your aversion to the word."
"There is nothing romantic or sentimental about it. It's just a means to an end for me." Light looked out the windows and refused to elaborate on why he hated that word, for he knew that Ryuzaki's seemingly innocent comment was just a query in disguise. He wasn't in the mood to humor him right now.
"Say it, Light-kun." The command surprised him and made him look back at Ryuzaki's unusually intense gaze. The man was riveted on him, leaning slightly forward in his crouch, a slight smile inexplicably playing around his mouth.
"Say 'I'm suicidal' or 'I want to kill myself.' I won't believe you until you use the words."
Despite his misgivings about Ryuzaki smiling in the middle of such a morbid demand, he felt the initial shock giving way to frustration. The man was backing him into a corner, refusing to respect him and his decision until he did as Ryuzaki pleased.
He truly wished he could hurl an appropriate insult or deflect the man's demands with sarcasm, which was more than he deserved. Light didn't have to do anything; he could walk away from this conversation and never see the man again. Hell, he could take the elevator up the extra floor and prove his sincerity if he really wanted to. 52 floors would definitely kill him.
Something other than his earlier desire not to leave a messy corpse stopped him. It was important to beat Ryuzaki at his own game, for he was certainly playing games with Light. Many of his seemingly innocent questions had been tests. He was certain he was still being tested in some capacity, and he was not going to fail.
Perhaps he did still possess the capacity to mentally fence with Ryuzaki. This conversation was rapidly becoming more of a confrontation as it grew more antagonistic, at least from Light's perspective.
From somewhere outside himself, Light mused that this dialogue was better suited to friends, people who at least had an interest in each other's well being, rather than two strangers who were merely conversing for the sake of argument. It was yet one more surreal thing to top the evening off.
"I want to kill myself," Light bit out in a monotone, making sure his voice was neither hesitant nor discomfited. He picked up another morsel, refusing to let Ryuzaki think he was anything other than sincere by changing his actions, whatever his interrogation techniques told him.
Ryuzaki's saccharine sweet smile appeared as his eyes lit up.
"Lie". The word dropped with all the subtlety of a vase hitting concrete.
Dammit, why? Light paused in the middle of chewing to glare at Ryuzaki, his eyes brimming with ire. He was still eating, and his voice hadn't wavered. What would make him think that was a lie? It was the truth, after all.
"You raised your eyebrows, Light-kun, and you smiled." Sure enough, Light felt the strangest tugging at the muscles on his face, which had obviously occurred without his consent. He smoothed over his expression with practiced ease.
"My smiles don't mean anything, Ryuzaki. They're as fake as any other expression I make." Ryuzaki looked hard at him, so Light returned the favor. The other's smile faded away as his expression changed to one of mild rebuke, as though Light had forgotten something he was supposed to remember.
"Nevertheless, you haven't smiled once at me since I met you. I'd call it a break from your normal behavior pattern and a dead giveaway, even if it is false."
Ryuzaki had a point. Light smiled again, just to dispel his theory and show how easy it was for him to feign merriment, but it was like trying to mold plastic rather than clay as his muscles suddenly refused to cooperate. Ryuzaki's eyebrows raised querulously over wide and amused eyes, so the look on his face must have been disturbing.
Light let it melt away, like chocolate in the sun, confused as to why this was so difficult. His expressions were never genuine, so the fact that he had actually smiled like that without meaning to was shocking, even to him. He couldn't keep his eyes from unfocusing slightly as his surprised thoughts suddenly turned inward, demanding answers from his subconscious.
Ryuzaki tilted his head, looking strangely bird-like as his gunmetal eyes pinned Light in place even through the unfocused haze.
"Could it be that you don't even know you're lying?"
Light couldn't look away, but at least he could avoid focusing on the man's piercing gaze. His stomach fluttered briefly in nervousness, for Ryuzaki's words seemed unfortunately plausible. So much of what the man had already said proved that he was quite experienced at reading people's behavior and even with reading him. While Light could admit to being arrogant almost to a fault when it came to confidence in his own decisions, it would be folly to ignore the words of someone who obviously knew what he was doing, even if his own observations contradicted Light's.
The conversation had taken on new significance. Light's foundation, his near-absolute belief in his own rightness, trembled slightly. He could feel it in the way that his self-confidence wavered, like a tower built of stone atop that foundation.
Light Yagami was a genius. In his 23 years, his observations of the world he lived in and the people who populated it had never been incorrect. He had always had perfect or near-perfect scores in school and university. He had gotten a job straight out of college as an intelligence analyst in Japan's National Police Agency. Everything pointed toward the fact that he could make intelligent decisions and have every confidence in them being truth.
So why do you make me doubt myself, Ryuzaki?!
Maybe because this time, Light was gambling with his life. He was confident that he had made the right decision last night. Had it only been last night? It felt like years ago. So many things had changed in such a brief period of time.
His life was a high price to pay if he was wrong, however. The only way he could know if it was right was to trust in himself.
His eyes slowly refocused, bringing Ryuzaki's shadowed, black-hole eyes back into view. The man hadn't moved, his head still cocked to the side. He was obviously taking note of everything Light was doing.
Ryuzaki was very intelligent, and apparently made a living by using his intellect. He was likely a genius as well, which meant that his observations carried as much weight as Light's own. He had known him so briefly, yet Light knew the man could read more into him than his own family. He discovered so much just by watching him.
If Light continued this conversation, things were going to change. Even though he would not be asking for help, for the first time in his life, he would be asking someone else for answers. The significance was earth-shaking to him.
He walled himself inside his tower, unconsciously seeking refuge in his confidence in his rightness because it was all he had, even if he was just about to admit that his thinking might not be infallible. It was perhaps a poor choice, but he couldn't be completely transparent with Ryuzaki.
"If I was lying, then what do you think I am if not- suicidal?" The pause was small, but it was there, and they both caught it.
"I think you are clinically depressed. I also believe that life hasn't offered you any challenges and you've had an easy time of everything. Over the years, you have grown tired. You see nothing ahead of you that demands your intelligence or your attention. You have found no solution to your problem of being endlessly bored, and you are looking for a way out. I don't think looking for an escape makes you suicidal." Ryuzaki spoke in a deadpan, like a doctor clinically detached from his patients. His tone was not at all patronizing, which would have taken Light straight out the door and out of Ryuzaki's life forever.
Not to mention, Ryuzaki had just read him, nearly thought for thought, like an open book. In spite of that, Light was not yet willing to relinquish what he perceived as having the upper hand, that of being who he was and thinking he knew his own intentions.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe suicide would qualify as a very certain escape from what you just mentioned." It was humiliating to think of it as something as cowardly as running away, but as far as the wording of Ryuzaki's argument went, it was correct. The man's logic was sound.
"It is one of several options, Light-kun, but I do not think it is the answer to your particular problems." Ryuzaki used his dessert spoon to stir his coffee, his eyes moving down to look into it and releasing Light from a gaze he hadn't realized he was trapped in. "You are curing the disease by killing the patient, and while I am no doctor, I know that to be foolish."
"Why didn't you think I was serious earlier?" Light had to know exactly how and why he was wrong, if in fact he was. He was unwittingly starting to trust Ryuzaki's judgment, for a tiny part of him wanted to hope that there was another way, one that didn't involve death.
Especially if he was wrong. Death was final, and perhaps Ryuzaki's solution was not. He would never know the solution, however, if he was not proved wrong.
This had turned into a fight for his life, and Light was not sure whether he wanted to win and die, or be wrong and live.
"Back to that, are we? Your words and your actions don't match up, Light-kun." Ryuzaki picked up the remnants of his pudding as he spoke and leaned back against the booth, balancing the bowl on his knees. He continued to keep his eyes on Light as he finished off his dessert, and Light followed suit even though the food had lost most of its taste. The conversation was too important to be distracted by such trivialities.
"In what ways?" Light stared stonily back at Ryuzaki's mild amusement. "I'm serious." Immediately he regretted making that last statement. The small sentence meant that the conversation was more significant than he was willing to divulge. It made him sound... desperate, unsure of himself. He needed details, though. In order to dispel what he thought had been an ironclad argument, the pros and cons meticulously weighed out in his head, he had to have a solid rebuttal. If there was more information available, he had to know, and he had to have details.
The spark of interest in the other man's eyes at his inadvertent admission ensured that it's significance was not lost on him, either.
"First, Watari called me from the car to say that you two were on your way. At that moment, I was 25 percent convinced that you were not serious. Then, I see you dressed as you are coming into the hotel, and I added another 10 percent." While he delightedly licked pudding off his spoon, Light did not get the impression that his words were anything other than meticulously thought out.
"Maybe I just wanted to look presentable. Why does the clothing matter?" Eating was helping his muscles to relax even if he couldn't focus on the taste, so he continued the menial activity to keep himself from getting nervy.
"Exactly, why does it matter? Why do you care what I think of you if you're going to kill yourself anyway? You've obviously put thought into what you're wearing and you have been very polite and you present yourself very well, but it shouldn't matter. After all, I'm not going to change your mind about it, am I?"
No...
Maybe.
"No." Light had flashbacks to when he thought that Ryuzaki could have changed his mind while he was drunk and almost shivered, but then Ryuzaki would have accused him of lying. He held himself still, taking noting of every action he took to make sure he was not lying, even to himself.
Ryuzaki's eyes narrowed at him.
"Second, you refuse to refer to your actions as suicide, and you didn't like when I asked if you were going to kill yourself. I think that when you talk around it as you do, or be sarcastic about it, you are either ashamed or embarrassed to think of it. Your statements left me 55 percent certain of my observations.
"Why are you here, Light-kun?" The sudden question caught him only slightly off-guard, for he was growing accustomed to Ryuzaki's sometimes disjointed manner of speaking, as though he didn't need to bother making a transition because he knew Light would follow. He set down the chopsticks and picked up his coffee cup instead. The coffee was dark and faintly bitter on his tongue.
"Because I said I would come. I always keep my word, even when I'd rather not." His eyes drifted toward the large windows as he responded, taking in the breathtaking view of the city lights and the last gasp of the blood-red sun on the horizon.
Ryuzaki set down his empty pudding bowl, and the movement caused Light to look back in time to see an unexpectedly exasperated expression on his face.
"That is my third argument. 80 percent. I have the impression that you are a man of your word, but I'm almost a complete stranger to you. I don't think you would put my feelings above your own need to end it all, honorable or not. Suicide is a very selfish concept, after all."
Light didn't like hearing Ryuzaki put it in words like that. He didn't like hearing words like selfishness and feelings in the midst of a strong, intellectually driven argument. Words such as that had no place alongside reason.
After all, his decision had been based on exactly that, reason. Not sadness, and not despair. He was not ruled by his emotions.
"Fourth." There's more? Ryuzaki pulled his cheesecake closer to himself and took a nibble of it before speaking, an expression of joy washing over his features.
"This argument itself is my final reason for saying that you are not serious about committing suicide. You are starting to doubt your decision, and you want someone else to offer intelligent reasons to dispel it rather than admitting to yourself that you might be wrong."
Air suddenly seemed to be having trouble getting into his lungs, as though he was trying to breathe through a pile of blankets. He was being smothered. His ears were ringing. The coffee cup banged unceremoniously atop the table, but neither of them took notice of it.
"Am I wrong, Light-kun?" Ryuzaki's voice was as clear and piercing as a bell in the night, his eyes magnetic. Light couldn't answer as he had to work just to draw breath. He felt frantically for the walls of his tower just to make sure they were there.
"I am 100 percent convinced now that you don't want to kill yourself." Ryuzaki's eyes dropped to his coffee as he stirred up the sugar with his spoon, but Light found it only marginally easier to breathe. He felt sick to his stomach.
"Then why...?" What was he going to ask? What question did he want the older man to answer for him? This was coming perilously close to asking for help, and he didn't need anyone else's help. The words had merely slipped out, a reflection of the incomplete thoughts that swirled in his head like blinded, crazed birds.
"Why- do you think you want to?" Ryuzaki finished his thought, and Light found himself nodding the slightest bit, cursing himself for not using words.
"Because you don't know what else to do, and you can't ask for help."
Dear gods.
Lightning crackled across his mind's eye.
He's reading my mind.
This isn't possible. This means that he's right. He's right about all of it.
"Light-kun." Light looked up, desperately trying to keep any expression at all from crawling across his face. The world was turning red around the edges, and Ryuzaki's face was darkening.
His foundation rocked, as though he had built up his self-confidence, his entire being, on a swamp. There ... there was no foundation anymore.
He's right.
And I'm... I was...
"Light-kun."
...wrong.
The tower shook as if in a storm, great cracks running up it with lightning speed. The scream of the rock tearing apart was deafening, the thunder of it all coming down ringing in his ears as blood-colored spots burst in front of his eyes.
"Light-kun, breathe! Wake up!"
More thunder rolled threateningly in a sky the color of lead. The world was coming apart. He fell, naked and vulnerable, into the swamp amidst the shattered remains of his tower. His surety in his rightness and his arrogant self-assurance were gone. He swam frantically, trying to keep his head above the murky and reed-filled water, reaching desperately for the rocks that sank below the surface even as he touched them.
Something was dragging him down, and he couldn't swim with the marsh plants choking the water. The sky fuzzed out of existence as he sank below the filthy waters.
Something gripped his shoulders, and his head snapped suddenly forward as he was rather violently shaken. Air rushed into his lungs as his brain kicked back into gear. The swamp and the leaden sky vanished and Ryuzaki appeared. He was half-leaning over the table, and when Light's eyes snapped into focus, the man released his hold on him and sat back, giving Light back his breathing room.
Light fell back against the seat, his eyes wide with shock as his shoulders rose and fell with sharp breaths. What had just happened? His shoulders still ached where Ryuzaki had pinched them between his bony fingers.
As the blood returned to his head, he worried it was coming back with too much force as he flushed with mortification. He was almost dizzy with the shock of it. Something cold pressed against one hand, and he looked down to see Ryuzaki pushing his water glass against his half-open palm.
The man said nothing, and Light was grateful for that as he tried not to let his hand shake when he picked up the glass. It took a moment to remember how to swallow, but the cool water felt good on his aching throat. He forcibly slowed his breaths down lest he become giddy with the excessive oxygen.
"Are you convinced, Light-kun?" So much for him not saying anything.
Can you not even give me a moment?! Light had only moments ago come to the realization that he was wrong about something for the first time in his life. The shreds of his pride that he still clung to like a cloak in a gale-force wind would not allow him to admit that to someone else so soon.
"Supposing I am wrong," he swallowed, "what do you propose is the proper solution?" Ryuzaki's expression flattened out, as though Light had disappointed him by dodging the question. It was a wonder he could even speak, let alone keep from saying the wrong thing.
"Work for me." Light chuckled, but it sounded choked.
"And how would that cure my depression?" He did not mean to emphasize the word, but he didn't want to avoid saying it or he would look even weaker than he already had. He had endured enough of his pride being trampled on already.
"It won't cure you. You'll cure yourself. Light-kun, you are convinced that the world has nothing interesting to offer you, but there is more to life than Japan and the NPA. Your intelligence gives you so many choices, and it would be a shame to see your genius wasted, either by dying or by staying in the NPA.
"I'll show you the world, Light-kun, but you have to accept my offer first."
How could he put that kind of faith in someone else, and so soon? He had just lost everything, his self-assurance toppling into the waters of uncertainty. His intelligence, which was tied directly to his sense of infallible rightness, was the one thing he had clung to amidst the turmoil of the recent weeks, and now that he doubted it, it was gone. He didn't have faith in himself; how could he offer it to someone else? That would be so much more than asking for help...
That would be begging for it. It would be like admitting that he couldn't save himself and needed to depend on someone else.
How could he stay close to someone, depend on someone that could destroy him with the kind of power he wielded? Light was stripped bare right now, defenseless before a power that he had never faced before.
Knowledge. True knowledge of how he thought, and who he was.
Ryuzaki was terrifying right now. He could see right through him.
Ryuzaki had rebutted his argument for suicide thoroughly and intelligently. He was right in that Light was not entirely convinced anymore that he wanted to die, and also correct in knowing that Light could not and would not ask for help.
He gathered the shreds of his pride, the only thing he had left to cover himself with as shame washed over him for being so wrong.
Ryuzaki seemed ignorant of Light's predicament as he gleefully devoured his cheesecake even though Light was sure that the man was still observing him. His eyes dully met Ryuzaki's, and he stopped eating.
"Have you made your decision? What will it be, Light-kun?" His voice was slightly colored with enthusiasm, as though he was pleased with himself for winning an argument but unwilling to gloat and appear to be rubbing it in.
All he had left was his pride. Pride that would not let him beg even though his faith in himself was decimated. He didn't know what was going to happen next. He stood on the edge of a precipice now, lost without the solution that he had come up with but unwilling to take another's if if meant losing control.
"No." It was a whisper.
"What?" He had obviously surprised Ryuzaki. If any part of him was capable of laughing right now, the indignant squawk would have been hilarious.
"I don't... want it. I'm sorry, Ryuzaki." This was not his pride speaking now.
It was Fear.
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A/N - I'm using the word 'apocalypse' in two different contexts. The one Light uses is the oft-incorrect reference to Armageddon or the end of the world, when the word actually means "lifting of the veil" as it is used in the chapter title. In this case, Light has realized that he is not infallible. Sounds inane, but think, this is someone who believed he could become god by supernaturally killing people. I imagine his reaction to realizing that he could be mistaken being comparable to how distraught he became at the end of the series when he couldn't think his way out of Near's trap. In both cases, Light realized he was fallible and quite mortal. I toned it down a little, heh.
More chatter (4/10) - Someone pointed out that there is a tarot card with a tower and lightning on it (called The Tower, amazingly enough). While I know zilch about tarot, I looked it up and the meaning of the card was PERFECT! Kind of scary, but I guess towers would be a recognizable symbol for one's ego or self-righteousness. Now, according to the card, Light can begin rebuilding himself... or just stewing in his own juices until L comes along and saves him... or not. I hate giving things away. XD
Thank you for reading!
