Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, just my OC.
2
December 14, 2003
Mizuki stared at her legs and brought a hand down to touch them. She couldn't feel them. No matter how long she was awake or tried to force them to move, she couldn't. It was the one thing she didn't have. Freedom of movement. She placed her hands in her lap and waited for the doctor to enter the room. She couldn't leave until one last check-up.
She was healed, save for a couple of bruises and cuts. So, there wasn't a reason for her not to leave. Her amnesia didn't stop her from living her life, though she would be required to come back for check-ups. She sighed her annoyance before dropping it from her face. There was still someone watching her. She was starting to think she was just paranoid. There had to be something to that. Paranoia to the degree that she was experiencing had reasoning behind it.
"Good Morning, Chibana-San," Her Doctor greeted her.
"Good Morning, Watanabe-Sensei," Mizuki responded.
"Let's check your legs and vitals before sending you off," He smiled.
"I guess I have a busy day ahead of me," She grumbled as he gently prodded her legs to try and coax a response out of them, "I need to study for the entrance exams to To-Oh."
"Ah yes, I heard that you were informed of your interest in finding a degree," He said as he moved away from her numb legs to check her eyes and ears, "anything interesting."
"Criminal Justice, or Law," She quietly admitted.
"You'll make a wonderful investigator," He complimented, "looks like everything is in order, you start physical therapy next Sunday."
She nodded at that and accepted the card for her pharmaceuticals. Her medication, both pain and for her insomnia. She mentally sighed at that. The Psychiatrist was quite good at her job and had figured out her bad habit of not sleeping. It wasn't her fault that her mind was just a jumble of thoughts and questions that wanted to keep her up at night. She pondered the questions and tried to answer them, to work through them. She didn't like not knowing something. It was a problem, but she didn't mind it. She wheeled herself through the hospital and kept an eye out for people who might walk into her path. She didn't want to run anyone over. Truthfully, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She stopped at the pharmacy and got her medicine before heading outside.
The cold air bit at her skin as soon as she went outside. She didn't mind the cold, it was actually quite refreshing. She wheeled herself to the side and looked down at the information that had been given to her. It was an address, apparently hers. She even had the keys to the place, and her car though that vehicle was totalled. She sighed and started to wheel herself to the address. Her hands and biceps soon started to hurt and she could feel sweat going down her face. She didn't stop, it was better for her that way.
There was someone waiting for her at her destination. She studied them from behind her long fringe and narrowed her eyes. Dark hair, dark eyes, and muscular build. He looked to be in his thirties. He didn't seem surprised to see her and gave her a bright smile. It was fake. She knew that the moment that it was sent her way. What was he doing here?
Someone's planted him to watch over me. But who? Does this have anything to do with Kira?
"Mizuki-Chan, it's nice to see you out of the hospital," the man said in a cheery voice that screamed falsehood.
"Who are you?" She questioned without waiting, her voice didn't hold her suspicion, but his expression shifted ever-so slightly.
"I'm Mogi, your older brother," He answered, "the hospital said you have amnesia, I just didn't know how extensive it is."
Ah. Is he here just in case Kira tries to kill me again? I should ask about what happened before the accident. He can't suspect me because of my diagnosis. I'm just curious as to what I did.
"Sorry, Mogi-nii," She apologised with a slight smile, and his shoulders tensed slightly as some colour tinted his cheeks.
He moved to stand behind her and wheeled her into the small house that belonged to her. She didn't know the story behind it, maybe the person she used to be had left something behind. Mogi would've scouted her house already. Anything that could be useful was most likely gone. She clasped her hands in her lap and fought the urge to fidget with them, or pick the skin. An unfortunate habit that hadn't been noticed yet.
"It's stuffy in here," Mogi stated and she nodded her agreement, "I'll open a window."
The dust hasn't even been bothered, though that doesn't mean anything. Anyone with practice in retrieving evidence would know how to avoid making obvious tracks in the dust. Then, why is it still stuffy inside? That's what's bothering me.
She looked around the house and slowly began to wheel herself away from Mogi. The house was undisturbed, dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, old newspapers were scattered everywhere, and the stuffy air gave way to a rancid smell. She lived like this? Her skin crawled at the idea of such a thing. A cockroach went up a nearby wall and she grabbed one of the shoes off her feet and hurled it at the bug. She got it with one hit and she gave a visible shudder.
"Everything all right?" Mogi asked as he peeked into the room she'd wheeled herself into.
"This whole damn house needs a clean, Mogi-nii," She informed him before making a face, "not much I can do with these noodle legs."
He let out a surprised sound that was somewhat close to a laugh. Well, maybe he wasn't that bad. He seemed to have relaxed by her slight joke. She saw another cockroach and another shoe went flying. It was a critical hit.
"Should I be worried that you can throw with that much accuracy?" Mogi questioned.
"Probably not," She shrugged as she let out another visible shudder, "I find it hard that I lived like this, it's disgusting."
Mogi nodded in her peripheral and she wheeled herself to a nearby window and opened it. Dust flowed into her eyes from the sheers above it and the blinds. She brought a hand up and rubbed at them. She turned to Mogi with a thoughtful expression.
"I'm looking for some cleaning supplies, I should be able to clean the kitchen and see what's in the fridge," She said to him, "you don't mind doing a grocery run if we need to, right?"
Mogi nodded again and she wondered what was going through his head. He seemingly agreed with her that they both couldn't believe that she had lived in such filth. She headed into the kitchen and looked into the fridge. Spoiled food stood out to her and she winced at the fact that all of it would have to be thrown out. She contemplated setting up a compost bin, that made her feel better at the idea of so much food being wasted.
How do I set up a compost container? Maybe I have something like that already. I should also look up a list to make sure what can and can't be composted.
It was a shot in the dark, but she'd feel better. She even brought it up to Mogi and he seemed surprised by her reasoning. She believed that people needed to take care of the planet. She understood that the dependence on fossil fuel was too ingrained into their society, the change to something more eco-friendly would be slow but she felt as though they'd get there. Everyone doing their best to recycle and keep the trash off the beaches would be ideal. She knew that was unlikely, she didn't live in an ideal world.
"Aha, found some," She muttered victoriously as she found some cleaning supplies.
She was glad to see a few unopened packs of rubber gloves. She pulled them on and removed the coat the hospital had retrieved from her crash. Her clothes were hole filled, and stained but she didn't care. They were clean, and smelled of bleach. She started on the counters first, and grabbed all the towels in the room. She'd run a few loads of laundry after running a cleaning cycle.
Mogi watched her as she easily did all that from her wheel chair. She was a stubborn woman, something that was consistent with what the reports on her said. Yet, there was a drastic change from the woman. She went from being uncaring about the environment to suddenly caring. From slob to neat freak. He hadn't met her personally, but people who had said she wasn't the kindest person. Yet, they all said the same thing. She'd never hurt anyone. Her trail, the one acquitted, was about a possible attack on a woman done by her.
"You all right?" Her soft voice broke him out of his thoughts.
Her dark hair was pulled away from her face and she had a genuine look of concern. He gave her a slight grin and nodded. She didn't look like she believed him. She had that same skeptical expression when he had introduced himself as her older brother. It worked on his end, he was an only child so he didn't feel like he was betraying anyone. His parents were long gone, killed in an accident a few years back.
Mizuki stared at him for a few seconds before returning to the kitchen to clean. He doubted that she'd get much done due to the wheel chair. He was surprised when he entered the kitchen to find the woman sitting on the counter and pilfering through the cabinets. She quickly made a pile of expired food and saved the boxes. Cardboard was compostable, she knew that much.
My medicine should be kept in easy to reach places, but if I do so what would the tail think? Could they start up a story or theory that I'm suicidal? Perhaps I'm reading too much into this.
She cleaned out the medicine cabinet and scrubbed it down. She felt disgusted at the sight of all the mould. She wondered why her previous self lived like this. It could've attributed to several health problems. If she wasn't so sure she had been targeted by Kira, she'd think her living conditions had probably done her in. She kept herself from sighing and she put away anything that wasn't expired or empty. Her new medication was front and centre where she could clearly see the label. The rest of the cabinets were empty. She didn't have much in the form of crockery or cutlery. She looked at the cups in the sink and opened the dishwasher. That was clean. The dishwasher even smelt like it had been previously washed.
Odd. It was only the surrounding environment that I didn't clean before the accident. Why is that? There's no rhyme or rhythm to doing such a thing, especially with mould growing in the cabinets.
She just didn't understand her previous self. She picked up some of the old newspapers and contemplated throwing them into the compost pile, but stopped upon seeing information about her trial. She had "assaulted" a woman while in line at a grocery store, but the witnesses say she didn't even touch her. Interesting. She kept the newspapers and simply put them in a neat pile. It was organised by date, the oldest on the bottom. The table was wiped down and sterilised and she soon started on the floor. Sweeping and mopping was difficult but she was able to get it done. Everything was in order, sterilised and clean.
"Woah, you were able to get the entire kitchen cleaned?" Mogi asked as he looked at the clean room.
It was as close to sparkling as she could possibly get it. Her hands and arms ached, mainly due to the wheelchair but the amount of cleaning as well. She hadn't removed the gloves, she still needed to clean the other rooms. She wheeled herself towards the piles of dirty cloth and gathered it up, a sandal nearby in case she needed to kill another cockroach. She didn't see anything, but the mildew smell from all the cloth was making her feel sick. She grabbed some lemon juice, baking soda, and vinegar. A cycle of hot water mixed with all the ingredients would clean the washing machine. She set it up, and waited thirty minutes for the barrel to fill before adding in the ingredients.
Mogi moved around the house and noted that several of the rooms were filthy, even the small second floor that held the bedrooms and a study. The only room that seemed to be saved from the mess was the owners room. The bedding was all dark, and had a minimal amount of dust and trash. She'd go through and gather everything to be safe, he could tell. She was acting as though her own house was a war zone. Honestly, he couldn't blame her. What was it like, to not recognise anything? To see people you used to know, and have no memories of them. He couldn't help but feel lonely trying to imagine it.
"You can get a headache if you think too much," Her quiet voice informed him and he watched as she wheeled over to him, "what's bothering you, Mogi-nii?"
She used his new "nickname" with ease, though the tone behind it informed him that she didn't believe they were related. Not for a second. He wondered why she was going along with his story, not calling him out on it. Not even asking for proof.
"You seem intense compared to before," He stated and she tilted her head to the side.
"Well, when targeted by a mass killer one tends to become intense, ne?" She informed him with a sweet smile.
"You think you were targeted?" He asked.
He took the time she formulated her answer to reach into his suit pocket and press a button on a small controller. He didn't have to wait to know that his actions activated a small microphone on the lapel of his suit jacket. She did something strange. She started to physically fidget with her hands, a tic brought about by contemplative thought.
"It's obvious, really," She stated, "it was the first thing I pieced together after watching the news and being told what happened."
"A couple criminals dying from heart attacks isn't unheard of, one can even factor in a families health history to verify a possibility of heart failure. For so many to die in the exact way, it's such a low probability that it's laughable. That's why I say targeted. There's nothing in my medical history that would point to a sudden heart attack, it even happened after I was leaving a trial that I was acquitted in. The timing was specific."
She gave him a serious look and continued to fiddle with her fingers. He didn't notice but she had started to pick at the skin, easily creating small cuts with her long nails. The slight pain didn't even register as she continued with her hypothesis.
"So, I believe targeted is a proper word for what happened," She finished before narrowing her eyes in thought, "though, I have no clue how I survived. Whatever Kira is doing sounds absolute."
She paused for a few seconds before gaining a sheepish expression. It seemed genuine. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. He was easily moved by her genuineness.
"Granted, this all pure speculation," She sheepishly admitted, "ready to do the grocery run, Mogi-nii?"
He nodded and pulled his keys from his pocket. This time his "nickname" sounded more sincere, like she was growing comfortable around him. Or, she had a split personality. She was quiet as he helped her into his car, she was extremely light and he could feel each of her ribs as he put a hand on her side to stabilise her balance. He was quick with closing the door and putting the wheelchair away. Mizuki watched him through the mirror on her side.
Three obvious cameras. One in the dash, the other on the rear view mirror and the last in the back seat. That ones situated on the console and would be difficult to miss. I guess the police are trying to figure out if I'm working with Kira, or how I managed to survive him. Kira's abilities are a zero percent chance of survival, or rather a five percent if I factor in my own. No wonder they feel the need to have me under surveillance. Mogi's a good choice, he has some of the most genuine reactions I've seen out of a cop in years.
Cop? She tilted her head down to look at her slightly cut up hands and clasped them in her lap. No, she herself hadn't been a cop. She frowned in thought and tried to remember what she had been. Her vision splitting caught her off guard for a few seconds and she saw her reflection. The one with the brown hair and masculine features had her eyes closed and blood slowly trailing out of her mouth.
What did I do? What happened to me? A heart attack was explained, but what of this other me I'm seeing? I previously thought drowning, but now that seems unlikely.
She was brought out of her musings by the feeling of being watched. She gave a quiet sigh and turned to see what was taking Mogi so long. She kept her surprise off her face when she turned to see dark eyes staring at her from a pale face. A rank smell filled her nose as the owner of those eyes let out a shuddering breath. It turned out to be a woman, though it was difficult to tell. Part of her torso was missing. The woman sat back and tilted her head to the left, a loud crack following her movements. She lifted a decaying hand and pointed to the house.
Mizuki was curious and she looked towards it. There wasn't anyone there, but the woman pointed it out for a reason. What was it? If it turned out there was a body in her house it could look bad on her end, unless it had been there longer than she'd been alive, or owned the house. Where did she even get a house? Land was expensive in Japan, especially in a city like Tokyo. A house the size of hers would easily be over a hundred thousand in the states, but that was mainly due to the size of the yard. It was big enough that she could have a vegetable garden and a flower garden.
Expensive land, with the probability of a body being buried on the property. Did I know this before hand? No, that's unlikely. It does explain the need to cover up the sickeningly sweet smell that corpses give off.
Crime scene analysis, that's what she did. She saw something she wasn't supposed to. That's how she knew the smell of a rotting corpse, it also explained her need to be clean. She closed her eyes as Mogi got into the car and started it. She had a goal in mind for her schooling. Criminology. She'd go through all the classes she needed to, just so she could have that particular job again. Even if there was the slightest bit of doubt on her end. It was something she knew she'd excel in.
She was torn from her thoughts as she shopped with Mogi. He took his role as older brother seriously, yet they didn't think to give him an alias. She pushed her hair behind her ear as she looked at a few tomatoes on display. No, she wouldn't have to ask for his last name. She would have to assume it was Chibana. She knew it wasn't, but she couldn't really refute that without causing suspicion. Her little tirade at the house had been caught on record. That little lapel pen was the oldest trick in the book. It was almost insulting that it was played on her.
If they think I'm Kira, then they are wrong. I'm not a murderer. I could care less about the criminals in the world, but that would be a lie. The words themselves give that away. I do care, quite a bit.
They checked out with their items and she wondered just how far he was willing to go to play up the older brother figure. Apparently, handling her feminine products was embarrassing in his thoughts. It was oddly funny. Watching such a serious man become embarrassed by the cashier sending him a raised brow. It was also nice to see him get incensed on her behalf. The muttering of those around her weren't lost on her. Obaa-sans with nothing better to do but gossip and teenagers that saw her wheelchair and thought she was touched in the head. It was the hard R slur for those who were mentally challenged or mentally unwell. She looked down at the small snack he had picked out for her. Did she even like strawberries? She tried to remember but couldn't. Honestly, she'd rather have one of the apples they purchased than strawberry pocky. She switched on the radio and turned to the A.M stations. She needed some form of news that wasn't weeks old.
"Five more criminals have been found in their cells, all dead from heart attacks," A calming male voice announced, "one starts to wonder how Kira is doing these monstrous acts."
"At least someone's got a good head on their shoulders," She muttered without thinking, the careless act caused her to inwardly curse.
"You don't agree with Kira?" Mogi asked as he raised his brows, he never looked away from the road, "That's surprising quite a few people in your age group do."
"They're idiots," She stated with a shrug, "what Kira is doing is murder. They don't even seem to think of those that have been incarcerated for petty crimes or those that didn't do the crime."
"I agree," Mogi admitted.
"I hope the police catch them," She stated, "though, I wonder how they'd be able to charge them with anything. It's such a supernatural way of killing that I doubt it's be easy to prove without video evidence."
"You don't think it's a bioengineered disease?" Mogi asked.
"No, that would require Kira to be near the victims at the time of death," She muttered in thought as a frown appeared on her face, "it's impossible to be in two places at once. One of those inmates was in Fuchū while another was in Osaka."
She took note of the time was well. These times were only available to a student. It should clear her name seeing as she would be unable to kill someone while under surveillance, and if she could that would be a oversight. Her frown deepened. Should she say anything about her theory? She decided against it. Opening her mouth even more would just get her in trouble.
"I think you'll fit in at To-Oh," Mogi informed her with a smile.
The worst part was that it was genuine. She didn't mind the man that was pretending to be an older sibling to her. Truthfully it made her feel less lonely. She closed her eyes for a few seconds before a wry smile appeared on her face.
"I don't know about that," She said before slowly turning to face him, her smile turning into something genuine and borderline teasing, "how many people can say they have attack noodles for legs?"
Mogi let out a hearty laugh at that and she smiled at the sight. She then looked down at her legs and her expression changed to something that showed she was truly bothered by her situation. She couldn't run, couldn't walk, hell she probably couldn't swim. She was stuck in a stationary form. Her little freedoms of walking down stairs or taking walks in parks were gone.
"When do you start physical therapy?" Mogi asked.
"Oh, next Sunday," She answered, "they gave me enough time to try and see if I can get any form of movement out of my legs. They're unsure if the nerves are dead."
There's not much to do but study, so I can try and coax some movement from my legs while brushing up on my general subjects. Any entertainment I liked either doesn't exist or hasn't been made yet.
How…how did she know that? She tried to figure out how she knew that small detail. Was it the way that certain things looked wrong to her. She'd noticed them but hadn't put much stock into it. The trains and busses she had seen were so plain and lacking the animated characters and animals she was used to seeing. No Pokémon or Attack on Titan characters were around, and she wasn't about to mention the lack of magical girls on the busses. She never could get into Maho Shoujo, it was one of those things she just didn't understand. She respected those that did, but it wasn't for her.
Mogi didn't let her put away the groceries, but he had a system she could respect. All the labels were front and centre and easily in her reach. He kept an eye on her from his peripheral as she sat at the dinner table and watched him. She had spotted the cameras, she wasn't stupid. They were also in areas she was meant to find them. She doubted that was all of them. Whoever was surveying her had handpicked Mogi and spared no expense when it came to observation.
"It smells great," She complimented Mogi as he cooked their dinner.
"It's not going to be the best, but it'll keep you full," He said, embarrassed by the compliment.
"I think I need to compliment you more until you seem relaxed by them," She informed him, "I feel like I don't."
He simply smiled at her. She narrowed her eyes. He thought she was pulling his leg. She couldn't do that in her current condition so she had to be telling the truth. She was one of these people that built others up and gave encouragement, sure sometimes it didn't come across the way she wanted it to but she always meant well. She'd be damned if she didn't do that for Mogi. He was stuck with her, and she wouldn't pull any stops.
Does this count as trolling? Eh, it feels like it but he needs to be shown some kind of positive attention. From what I know Japanese men don't always get complimented or positive reinforcement. That's not fair to them, but I suppose that's what they get for being sexist in the work force. A double edged sword, then again I wasn't Japanese before. I could tell that just from those European features.
She wasn't surprised when Mogi informed her that she needed to make sure to inform him when she left the house. She had a phone and his number, she needed to be cautious. If her hunch was right, he didn't disagree with her theory, then she needed to stay out of the public eye for a while. A prisoner in her own house. Good thing she had so many things to do. She hadn't planned on leaving the house, but now that she was told not to go anywhere, she kind of wanted to ignore that and go everywhere.
Classic psychology. Psychological resistance, the brains response to a threat on freedom. The human mind is such a funny thing.
"Have you ever heard of psychological resistance?" She asked Mogi as she ate some Edamame.
"No," He answered, "but the term does sound vaguely familiar."
"It's the brains response to being told no," She informed him, "it's a triggered response that basically says, I'm going to do that anyway even though I was told not to."
"Are you going to walk around outside by yourself?" He asked with a serious deadpan.
"No, but the triggered response told me I should," She informed him with a slight curl of her lips, before she remembered the upcoming holiday, "do we celebrate Christmas?"
"Not really, most families don't," He answered with a frown.
"Right," She quietly said as she finished her food, "everything is all jumbled upstairs, I have information but no memories tied to it. It's disconcerting to say the least."
"At least you aren't going through it alone," He said in an attempt to cheer up the depressed woman.
She simply gave him a dubious look before cleaning up after herself. She went into the laundry room and tossed in a load of laundry, it was properly sorted, and staring up the stairs. She couldn't formulate a way to get up them without asking for help. She didn't want to put too much on Mogi's shoulders. He was a busy man, and he was already taking up residence in her house.
Why wouldn't I ask him for help then? It would make sense to have him help me up the stairs as payment for all the rent he should be paying.
That felt oddly wrong to her. He wasn't here because he wanted to be. He was there because someone else wanted him to be. That line of thought confused her, but she knew she was right about that. She gave a quiet sigh. She didn't even know if the upstairs was clean or not. That would decide if she stayed up there. She wanted to sleep in a clean environment, not filth. She couldn't really judge her previous self too hard, she didn't know what they'd been going through. She ran a hand through her still greasy hair and wondered how long it would take to get up the stairs if she army crawled. It was anywhere between ten and thirty minutes.
"It's filthy up there as well," Mogi informed her and she turned to face him, "I'd wait until tomorrow to check it out."
"Ah, I can always army crawl up and down them if need be," She deadpanned at him.
"I don't doubt it, but there's a man coming in tomorrow to install a lift," He said and he noted the strange look that appeared on her face.
"That's…probably for the best," She quietly agreed, "I haven't been able to feel anything in my legs since I woke up, if two weeks of being in the hospital hasn't shown any progress then I doubt a week at home will."
He didn't know how to respond to that. How could he? He wasn't in her position. He wasn't the one confined to a wheelchair. She wheeled away and into the living room. She'd find something to do before taking her medicine for the night. She ended up reading an old copy of Frankenstein. She had to be reminded to take her medicine. It didn't take long for her mind to slowly shut down for the night as her medicine worked through her system. Mogi slowly followed after, his spot on the floor in a clean futon solidified. He just hoped that it wouldn't take her too long to get the upstairs rooms cleaned. He needed to be on his game to make sure that nothing slipped past his notice at work.