I believe I've mentioned this before, whether it was in this story or in one of my past stories I'm unsure, but sometimes you guys apologize for writing long comments. Please don't. I actually prefer it when they're long. It allows me a better look into what you guys think. Oh, but I have to say, someone recently mentioned that they had a theory where L was actually alive in the casket and when Light went up, he made some sort of gesture to tease him. Really, I wish I'd thought of that! That would have been hilarious! Unfortunately, though, I have no plans of changing the story since I'm this far in. It wouldn't really be my story anymore if I were to change it according to suggestions, anyway. At least, not big plot twists like that. Little suggestions are always welcome, though! I promise I really do consider them all. I'm kind of disappointed I didn't come up with that idea, though. But even if I had, I probably wouldn't have used it. The mood of this story is a bit too grim to suddenly throw in a comedic piece.
Anyway, onwards!
"Will you ever tell me what you are?"
"Why should I?" I retort, spinning in the chair. This is the first time I've sat in it, since usually he's the one occupying it. Right now, though, he crouches on the couch with a cup of sugary tea. "It's not like you're all that honest either. You have everyone call you Ryuzaki, but it's not your real name. If anything, I'm more honest than you. At least you know my real name."
"I personally believe that lying about your species is much graver than lying about a name," L explains, adding yet another sugar cube into his cup. "Everyone lies about their name, whether it be an username or a nickname. But we all agree that we are human. You however….you are not."
"I will consent to that," I admit, pushing the table and doing a three-sixty in the chair. "Although, that's not entirely true, L. I may not be purely human, but I have it in me. My great grandmother was a human, as was her husband."
"Is that so?" he wonders.
"It is. That's the reason there are things in this world that I can touch." I stand up from the chair, removing my right glove and laying the back of my hand against his cheek. Of course, his skin is so very warm against my chilled hand. "It's the reason I can touch you. Others, younger generations of my kind can't."
"Fascinating," he murmurs, covering my hand with his own. His eyes gaze up at me, containing the flaming curiosity I've grown accustomed to within the past months. "You say younger generations. How old, exactly, are you?"
I chuckle, removing my hand and sitting next to him. "I don't age, but if you keep track of human years, I'm not sure. How old do I appear to you?"
"About twenty four."
"Well, then I'm twenty four. If you tried to discover how long I have existed, you'd have to somehow go back farther than written history. So, let's just go with twenty four, how about?"
"I've never understood why girls are so touchy about their age," he grins. I return the smile, laughing to myself. Then he goes back to questioning me. "When you say younger generations, does that mean you have had children yourself?"
"Not a single one. It was all my siblings and cousins who had the children. I never took an interest in a male, nor did I want to raise a child. Besides, every babe they had was more hideous and inhuman than themselves. I didn't feel like birthing an abomination."
"Then what is your opinion about the most recent generations?"
"Disgusting to look at," I respond without hesitation, "but they're much more astute than any human, and their mental strength is beyond compare. It took me years to adapt their state of mind, erasing what little weakness I had, and yet they were simply born that way. I almost find it...I think you humans use the word 'enviable'."
"What state of mind are you talking about?" he inquires, setting his tea on the coffee table.
"We do not feel. Of course, they cannot touch basically all of the human realm save for a few things similar to things from our own, but I mean it in the sense of emotion. We do not feel fear, or friendship, or love. Our bodies aren't even built to contain such emotions. Physical pain isn't a thing, and we certainly do not feel pain psychologically. Our eyes are also void of tear ducts. My generation might have been the first to lose those, because I have seen tears from my kind before. My mother cried them when father turned to dust, as did my aunts, uncles, and grandparents as their spouses or children perished. Once they were all gone, though, I don't think there's been a single tear shed in my realm."
"You're saying you simply do not have emotions?"
"Precisely."
"Except you were laughing just now," he objects. "And I've seen you angry before, and annoyed, and bored. You clearly have such emotions."
"Ah, well, I suppose I phrased that wrong," I correct myself. "We don't have inhibiting emotions. Amusement, anger, annoyance, none of those are terribly detrimental. Of all of them, only anger can blind humans. We're just more intelligent and don't bother letting it get to us. Boredom is inevitable no matter the species. There just aren't enough things in existence to keep all of us entertained."
"So then, what are you feeling right now?" he inquires, turning his entire body to face me. He looks kind of comical, squatting like that. He's like a small child.
"Mm, entertained. I find you to be an extremely interesting human."
He extends his hand to me and I take it with my still bare hand, both of us resting our hands on the cushion. The tips of my fingers pass through the material, but his hand supports mine so it doesn't fall through. His gaze meets mine, unblinking."...nothing else?"
Yes, definitely something else. This warmth glowing in my chest is nothing I've ever experienced before. The alien feeling, although undeniably pleasant, makes me uneasy.
"No. Nothing else."
We stare at each other for a moment, his black eyes searching mine. Unlike humans, however, shinigami do not show any signs of lying. It comes to us as naturally as the truth.
"I see," he finally accepts, turning his head away. I squeeze his hand, thoroughly amused. So this is what he acts like when he takes an interest in a girl that way. It's kind of adorable, the way he refuses to admit it.
"If you want there to be more," I tease, "you're just going to have to try a bit harder. Maybe, by some freak chance, you'll awaken some long asleep genetics of mine."
"Genetics are difficult," he mumbles. "I can't accurately predict the likelihood of a turnout when genes are involved."
I mock gasp. "You? Unable to predict something? Unheard of!"
"I can predict most possible outcomes. It's just a matter of the chance each will happen. Obviously there are possibilities larger than others, and some that are nearly at zero percent, but scaling them against each other won't give exact answers. I can only estimate. And the possibility of me stirring an old gene lying dormant inside of you is basically infeasible."
"Then," I push, "you admit you would like to."
He meets my eyes again, dead serious to the point that I actually lean back a bit. "I would be interested in seeing how that would turn out."
With my free hand, I move a piece of hair out of his face. "You never cease to surprise me, L."
He catches my hand, moving it to his mouth and kissing my gloved knuckles while still gazing at me. I let him, not caring to retract away. Although I do my best to quell the turmoil bubbling inside of me, I can't help but be unnervingly aware of how hot his lips are through the leather against my lifeless skin. Really, I want to touch him more. I've begun to crave that living warmth of his. The more I think this, the more I want to space myself from him, but I can never seem to pry myself away.
On the outside, I display none of this confusion. I return his stare with a slight smile. When he brings down our hands, he says, "I assume that's a good thing."
"It is. I really should thank you. This might be the first time I've been able to legitimately smile without shedding someone's blood first."
"You've killed before?"
My lips part in a grin. "More people than you or I could ever count, although, I've never actually slain anyone with a weapon. Not once by my hands, but the blame is sorely mine, nevertheless. Does this make you think less of me?"
He pauses for a second. "When was the last time you killed?"
I rewind my memory back to when I hadn't lost my Death Note. Speaking of which, that's the reason I came to the human world in the first place, wasn't it? I haven't come even a single step closer to finding it. Perhaps it's time I admit I've gotten a bit sidetracked. "I imagine it's at least been a century."
"Then it's all in the past." This time he presses my bare fingers to his lips and I can feel his breath. Humans are full of warmth, aren't they? The air expelled from my lungs is no warmer than when it was taken in, and yet, he gives off so much heat.
"Really?" I reply in wonder. "Even though you're in charge of hunting down a sensational serial killer? Even though I don't regret a single life I've taken?"
"I'm sure you had a reason."
I laugh. "If personal enjoyment counts as a reason, I had plenty of reason."
"Without enjoyment," he murmurs, "you're lead to boredom and, in effect, depression. I understand enough to acknowledge your desire to escape that."
"Interesting," I muse. Boredom, of course! I despise the sensation with a passion rare among shinigami. Depression, though...I'm unfamiliar with the concept. Perhaps I've felt it, perhaps I haven't. Depending on what exactly it entails, I may not be able to feel it. Shinigami were never meant to host useless emotions.
"I find you interesting as well, Kezu."
"Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?" I mention, releasing both of his hands. "The rest of the team are due to arrive in only a few hours from now."
"I guess I should recharge before they come," he agrees, adjusting his posture. Finally actually sitting on the couch, he stretches his legs over the armrest and lays his head on my lap.
And I don't move him off.
If you couldn't tell, I should probably clarify that this entire chapter was a memory. I really found it interesting how L accepted her after she told him she'd killed….is that weird for me to say as the author? Honestly, I think both Kezu and I expected he'd be a little more disturbed by the fact. It's pretty fun when characters I write surprise me like that. It makes them feel more real. If anything, this chapter reveals how intimate their relationship is without actually being intimate. They're obviously both attracted to each other, but Kezu's species is a bit of a problem. It's not quite a Romeo and Juliet story, if that's what you're thinking. It's basically Kezu's stubbornness that keeps them apart, not some outside force. Even though she's not exactly human, they still could've been together had she accepted the emotions. Poor girl….I really am a cruel author. Anyway, I look forward to the next update!
Till then, Kisses from SnowyNeko! :3 MEOW!