Chapter 20
Theme: Seether-Country Song
Trusting Secrets
At around 9:00 in the morning, Ray woke up to find the soldier still asleep, his expression perfectly peaceful. As he washed up and brushed his teeth, he heard the loud groaning of someone who'd just woken up.
Captain Price was awake now...
The FBI agent looked at his commanding officer.
He seemed to be fine, and apparently wasn't feeling any pain.
The well-built soldier was looking out the room's window, which had a rather mundane view of the street.
"Price-San...are you feeling better?"
"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine. Call Ryo yet?"
"No...I just woke up a few minutes ago, myself."
"Mmkay. That's fine."
"Something on your mind, sir?"
"I think...the creature that attacked me...it's a Shinigami."
The raven-haired FBI agent's eyes widened. A Shinigami? A...death god? How was that even possible? And how did Price-San survive a Shinigami attack?
"Are...are you sure? A...Shinigami?"
The bearlike man sighed heavily, stroking his beard in thought.
"Yes...it was a Shinigami. It was not human...not anywhere close to human."
"Price-San...if it was a Shinigami, how come...you're not dead? Or...are you...a ghost...?"
"I'm very much alive, laddie."
Penber walked up to the SAS captain and poked a finger at his chest. Price grunted and pushed the younger man's hand away gently but firmly.
"That...hurts, Penber...I have a bruise there..."
"S-sorry, sir, I forgot..."
"It's all right."
They locked eyes for a moment. Price's keen, vivid forest olivine. Penber's gentle, soft amber woodland. Their gazes didn't break. It was a second that felt like forever, windows into souls reflecting off of each other, creating a hall of mirrors, forcing each to realize that they didn't really know the other as well as they thought they did. Who ever truly knew another person, inside and out? They had to look at each other as friends and enemies. Tenuous alliances. A new day was exploding outside. And their souls were exploding inside.
"Penber..."
"Price..."
"Are you Kira?" They said it at the same time, and their reactions were remarkably similar.
Penber was hurt, offended, like a deer in the headlights.
Price was wounded, deeply disturbed, as if he had been backstabbed by his own brother or son.
"Penber...I'm not Kira. Please believe me. I trust you like a brother of mine. If Kira's holding you hostage...forcing you to do anything against your will...I have to know. I will do everything in my ability to protect you, and stop him...kill him."
The rough, normally grayish-green eyes of Price turned a much sharper, brighter shade of green as he said these last words. They reminded Penber of a cat's eyes, hunting its prey. He could imagine these eyes looking down the scope of a sniper rifle, locking onto a hostile helicopter with a Stinger missile, enjoying the rush that came from slashing a combat knife through his enemy's neck.
Normally, Price was rough, but slightly charismatic in that roguish way of his. This look had none of that likability.
He was a caring man, but he didn't make friends easily. Only a select few could manage to get close enough to his heart to see that warm, gentle, fatherly side of him.
This, right now, wasn't his uncaring public facade, nor was it his warm, loving heart.
This was his warrior's mask. A terrifying sight to behold. It struck fear into the hearts of whomever he fought against.
The glimmer of violence dissolved from his eyes as quickly as it had appeared. He returned to his normal, slightly gruff British demeanor.
"You can trust me, Penber. I...well...I like you, very much so. Just tell me the truth; I can take it."
Penber relaxed a little when the glint disappeared from Price's eyes; it didn't make his words flow any more easily.
"Price-San...Kira's got Naomi's name...he's making her give him the names...she told me last time..."
Price placed a thick, calloused hand on the younger man's trembling shoulder.
"Listen, Ray. I won't let you or Naomi get hurt...but I might. Is that..."
His words were cut off by Penber's crushing hug.
"Captain...Price-Taicho...Price-San...don't die...please..." The younger man sobbed.
"I take that to mean you don't want me to be maimed or killed?"
There was no response from Penber, other than more tears, and holding his beloved captain even closer.
"Oi! I'll try not to die, alright mate? You don't need to cry me an ocean, I get the point."
Penner pulled away from the muscular, bearlike captain, his face wet with tears.
"I'm...sorry about that, sir...it wasn't very proper...was it...?"
"Eh, it's fine. If you don't mind, I'll call Ryo now..."
"Okay."
The SAS captain sighed, pulling out his phone and punching in Ryo's frequency.
It rang twice, and then the aforementioned hacker picked it up.
"Yo. Something happen?"
"Ryo...never thought I'd be glad to hear your voice. I need you to teach me about Shinigami...especially their physical attributes."
"Sure... Well. They're rather tall, usually have wings, bony bodies, look pretty damn ugly, dark colors like black and brown, always have red and yellow eyes, and can only be seen by someone who's touched any part of the Death Note. Shinigami follow the owner of the Death Note wherever they go. They can't be killed by physical means. A Shinigami is not allowed to kill anyone by any means other than the Death Note they carry."
"Wait...Shinigami can't be killed?"
"No, unfortunately they can't be killed by physical methods. There are ways to kill them...however, they are very convoluted and clumsy, such as making the ugly critter fall in love with you and kill someone to save your life."
"And...what are Shinigami eyes?"
"It's a special ability that any Death Note owner can activate by trading half their remaining lifespan away in exchange for the ability to see anybody's real name and lifespan just by looking at their face."
"And that allows the owner of the note to kill anyone...just by looking at them and writing their real name."
"Precisely. Any more questions?"
"What extent of control can a Death Note exert on an individual?"
"It can make them do anything that is physically possible of them for up to twenty-three days before their deaths. Suicide is always a valid cause of death, by the way."
"Huh. Okay, that's...helpful..."
"No problem. Good luck catching Kira."
"You too, Ryo."
He clicked the implant off, sighing and running a hand through his graying brown hair.
"Sir...what happened?" Penber was still sniffing, but he'd mostly regained his composure by now.
"There's good news and bad news."
"Give me the bad news."
"The thing that attacked me was a Shinigami. And, since it could interact with me, I have somehow come into contact with some portion of the Death Note. Light can control anyone for up to twenty-three days before their deaths; he could be controlling any one of us right now. There is the potential that Light will trade half his remaining lifespan to get Shinigami eyes, which allow him to see the remaining lifespan and name of anyone whose face he sees; if he goes for that, he can kill anyone with just a glance at their face."
"And what's the good news?"
"The good news is that Shinigami can't kill people by any means other than a Death Note, and that they're supposed to follow the note's owner everywhere."
"Well, what good is that?"
"The Shinigami that attacked me...means that there was a Death Note user nearby. Maybe even Light. Or someone else."
"That isn't very good, is it..."
"Good enough for me. The more we know about our enemy, the better."
"Price-San...why'd you go out in that hallway, anyway?"
"Heard something odd, went out to investigate. Saw the fire escape door closing, so I went after whoever it was. Then that Shinigami jumped me."
Captain Price conveniently omitted the part about the letter he found...he still hadn't read it. It might be from Light...or Naomi...or someone else. He hoped it was Naomi. Light seemed to be a tough nut to crack. Penber's fiancee was much more pleasant to deal with. She reminded him of Kate...the same cool demeanor...
His heart ached for his family. James...Sandy...Kate. He remembered them all so vividly from five years ago. That was when his tour in Georgia had begun. And when he'd developed his vindictive hatred towards everything Russian. He was still sickened by even hearing the names Ivan or Dimitri. The man didn't have anything against the Russian people themselves; it was just that he associated the language...the names, with enemies firing at him. He knew it was PTSD, or some form of it. He knew he should've gotten it treated, gotten help from somewhere, anywhere. But he pushed through. He was proud...he didn't like admitting he had a problem. And the nightmares kept coming back. Every single night. Every time, it was the same...his mind bending, squeezing out every bitter memory from his entire life.
He had to face his demons.
"Price...Price-San...something wrong? You're spacing out on me..."
"Hm? Yeah. Sorry about that. Don't mind me. Just an old soldier reminiscing about his time on the battlefield."
"Price-San...you can talk to me, too. I'll listen..."
The older man smiled and sighed.
"Maybe when this is all through, I'll take you and Naomi camping...tell both of you my war stories around the fire."
"That sounds nice."
"It does, doesn't it? Let's get to work. We still have a shot at going before the end of summer if we can nail Kira soon. Might even be able to bring my kids along...who knows."
They washed up and put fresh clothing on; Price, as per habit, trimmed his beard.
The SAS captain wore a black lightweight jacket, gray-pixel load-bearing vest, military pants, and his distinctive slouch hat.
The younger FBI agent dressed in a blue-and-white pin-striped shirt, black fleece vest, and khakis.
Price attracted about one-hundred and fifty times the attention Penber did.