TOWRTA: Real quick note: to those who read the previous chapter before the edit, I lied about Misa. The amount of plot points I had to cover before getting to Misa was a bit larger than I'd anticipated. But I have an inkling this will sate your appetites.
Again, unedited. Wanted to get it up.
Chapter Eleven
"Hisashi-sensei?" I knocked on the doorframe, peering into the dark art room. There was a startled exclamation, followed by the sound of canvases falling to the floor. I knew that sound well. With a grin, I found my way into the back room where Miss Hisashi was muttering to herself as she picked up the mess she'd created and placed the dried paintings back in the shelved boxes set up for the third year's exposé. To my amusement, my box was the one she'd managed to knock over.
"You startled me, Minerva-chan," she said, slotting in the portrait of Mikoto and Nozomi by the windows on one of our few snowy days this winter. "I was just making sure everything was in order for the exhibition."
"Find anything wrong?"
"Not at all. Though, between you and me." She glanced around as though there may be someone else in the small space listening in, and lowered her voice. "Yours are the best by far."
I grinned again, wider. "Thanks, Hisashi-sensei." We stepped out of the room, Miss Hisashi closing the door carefully behind her and locking it with a padlock only she and the principal had the key to. Not even the cleaners were allowed in the room, in case they damage any of the artwork. It was Miss Hisashi's job – and mine, in recent weeks – to clean it.
"So what brings you here, Minerva-chan? I thought classes were over for the day."
"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," I replied, watching her go to her desk and pull out and riffle through drawers.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, about what I'm going to be doing after school . . ."
"Aha!" She triumphantly tugged out a thick envelope, sending several pencils flying. With a loud bang she shoved the drawer back in and came over, slapping the envelope into my hands.
"What's this?" It had my name scrawled on the front in handwriting close, but not quite the same as the art teacher's.
"Your latest payment from the gallery. Apparently the customer paid in cash. My sister's already taken her share – retail mark up price, and whatnot – and here's the rest."
"Oh! Thanks, Hisashi-sensei!" Great. Something to pay for the rest of the week's grocery's. We'd been running low on eggs again, among other things. Sayu and Light were obsessed with potato chips. "Have you talked to her about pre-paying yet?"
"The gallery is still in its infancy so it may be a while before she can pay you before hand, but don't worry! Apparently your artwork has made its popularity shoot through the roof!"
"Right." I would never be good at taking compliments like that. Miss Hisashi's beaming face seemed much too impressed to be referring to my work, but I wouldn't say that aloud. It tended to annoy people. "Anyway, about once the school year ends?"
She bobbed her head, already turning to fix up some of the easels and generally tidying after the last art class. It was a habit of hers to never stand still unless she was talking herself or painting.
"I was wondering if there was a job vacancy here, at the school . . ."
She whirled around, eyes gleaming. "You took the words out of my mouth! Ever since the tutoring sessions started up I've been discussing with Principle Kurosaki about having you come on full time. He's taken some convincing. He says that if I can get you to agree, he'll think about it."
"Really?" This was ludicrous. She nodded again.
"Art has boomed in terms of student-interest since you came here. Principal Kurosaki just wants to know what sort of money he can make off of it. After all, we are more of a science and law school here. I'm hoping the gallery will get the parents to donate more to this part of the curriculum and if that happens you can come work here as soon as next term!"
My mind was blank. "I . . . uh . . . really?" Miss Hisashi's face fell and I scrambled to bring back that smile. "This is great! I never expected to get a job here and this is fantastic!"
"Isn't it? We're going to work together." She rubbed her hands together with glee, looking like she was about to burst with happiness. Then sobriety took over. "This gallery has to be excellent, though. I'm expecting nothing but the best from you, Minerva-chan."
I nodded sincerely. "Of course, Hisashi-sensei."
"Now, you better get home. Isn't today the day Yagami-san is taking his To-Oh entrance examination? Poor boy, having to do it so soon after his parents' demise. You should get dinner ready for him so he doesn't have more stress to deal with."
"You haven't told anyone he's staying with me, right?"
"'Course not! Now go, we both have things to be doing."
Buzzing from the news, I gave a jaunty wave to the receptionist, who responded with a lascivious wink, and bounded in the elevator. The whole way up my mind was a whirl with the idea of having a steady job that I loved, of finally being able to pay for myself rather than rely on the trust fund Granny Hiro had set up – a fund that was quickly being depleted with two additional people to care for.
The doors opened. "Hey, Quinn!" I called, throwing my bag onto the kitchen bench and sliding my hair free from its ponytail.
I drew up short. Light was sitting on the couch, arm slung over the back, in avid conversation with my little brother. He glanced up and frowned frustratedly at me. Quinn jerked back at my arrival and jumped off the couch to meet me. His school uniform hung of his gangly frame; apparently his talk with Light was so enthralling he hadn't bothered to change as he usually did upon returning home. Alarm bells were clanging over my thoughts.
"V," he said, appearing almost guilty. "You're back."
"Yes, I am." Cautiously, I stepped into the living room, glancing around for Ryuk. He was nowhere to be seen. "How was school?"
"Good. I've got homework to do, though." With a slight wave, he veritably fled to his room, snatching his bag up from its place by the couch. As soon as the door shut I rounded on Light.
He held up his hands. "We were only talking."
"Don't you dare bring Quinn into this!" I snarled, advancing until I was just out of arm's reach. No way was I letting him throw me off balance right now. "Anything to do with Kira, to do with us, does not include him."
Light sighed and checked his nails. "Who's being possessive now?"
"Not the point. What were you talking about?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't ask you about your conversations with Sayu, do I?"
"I'm not possibly trying to get a last name out of her to kill her off, unlike someone."
"I'm disappointed you think so little of me, Mi-chan."
"Answer me!"
"Fine." He slouched back, throwing his legs onto the couch and lacing his fingers behind his head. "I was telling him about the strange guy I saw at the exam hall today. Want to ask me how the test went?"
He was toying with me, I knew it, he knew it, and he was enjoying my frustration. I must have interrupted him and Quinn at some crucial point for him to retaliate in such an irritating manner. Then again, this was Light, heir-apparent to the crown of irritating, after L.
"No. You did excellently, I'm sure. You'll have me ironing your suit soon for the entrance ceremony while you recite your speech, blah, blah, blah. What about this guy was so interesting?"
"Want to guess?"
"Light!"
"His hair, his eyes, the way he sat. There was something off about him."
"The way he . . . sat?" Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. It couldn't be . . .
"Legs tucked under himself, without shoes."
Don't do anything suspicious. "Oh?"
Light's eyes narrowed. "Yes. He was told off by the supervisor."
"Sounds strange. What do you want for dinner to celebrate the test?" I went into the kitchen, trying to hide the shaking of my hands.
"Quinn seemed to know who he was."
"Really? I've never met anyone like him."
"Is that so?"
"Yup. Steak or pad thai?"
"Pad thai, it's Sayu's favourite."
"Got it." I grabbed a wok and placed it on the stovetop. Next thing I knew my wrists were grasped and I was twisted around, the granite jutting into my lower spine. Light loomed much to close. I tried for nonchalance. "Can I help you?" To my pleasure there was nothing to denote the nerves burning in my chest.
Light hummed, scanning my eyes. Apparently he found nothing there for his grip loosened just a bit.
"You shouldn't lie to me, Minerva," he murmured.
I was saved from replying but a hesitant "Light?" We looked over as one and saw Sayu standing at the end of the hallway, her face showing her confusion.
"Yeah?" Light said, not moving away.
"I wanted to ask how the test went." She walked further into the room, gaze darting from her brother to his hands on my wrist to my back against the counter.
"You should ask him about the guy he saw there," I said, forcing a smile. "Apparently there was some strange dude at the testing centre who sat hunched over like a monkey."
"Really?" Sayu's face lit up and she sat down on the couch, ready for the story. Light shot me a look that said this isn't over. I impetuously winked and slid away. Sayu's mouth was open as I walked past to Quinn's room.
At my knock he called, "Come in," in a way that was obviously meant to be relaxed but failed. He didn't have as much practise as I did, and hopefully never would.
I leaned on the door once inside, folding my arms. His room was much tidier than mine, manuscript paper on shelves next to folders and music books, the ajar door to his ensuite showing perfectly clean tiles. His instruments were in an orderly line at the back wall where a large window let in the afternoon sun. Quinn himself was stretched on his bed, scowling at the ceiling.
"So," I said slowly. "Did you tell Light?"
"No," he said sullenly. "You'd get angry."
A sigh escaped my lip before I could stop it. Quinn sat up, abashed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to –"
"No, don't worry about it." Running a hand over my face, I sat down heavily on his bed. He immediately shifted to be as close as possible, my arm going around him like it was a second nature. "I should be sorry. I've just been tired lately. Too much to do, you know."
He hummed, hair falling in his eyes. "Why don't you want me talking to Light?"
Another sigh. "He's dangerous, Q. I can't tell you why, but you have to be careful around him."
"So no telling him about L?"
"Never."
"Okay." He was so downcast, so sombre, that I had to press a kiss to his hair and hug him tight.
"You are the best brother a girl could ask for, you know? I'll never let anything happen to you, Quinn."
Quinn nodded, his nose rubbing along my neck. "Love you, V," he mumbled into my skin.
"Love you too, Q."
"Beyond Birthday, the serial killer of the L.A. BB murders in 2002, was pronounced dead this morning, as of 7:16 am, on the 21st of January 2004 –"
Quinn switched off the television, turning to me worriedly. I had no words for him, no platitudes of my wellbeing, no comfort. I stumbled to my feet, hands working their way into my shirt, tearing, ripping the fabric apart as I staggered into my bathroom. It was as though the skin of my back was burning, searing deep into bone. In the mirror I saw the scars on my back, thick and white, reaching from my shoulder blades to the base of my spine. How could I have forgotten? I'd spent too long ignoring them, repressing every thought of him and every memory of the days before and after he attacked me. Canada had been two years spent avoiding any reminder and creating habits to ensure that, like never turning around when near a mirror, and since Granny Hiro's passing life had been such a whirlwind there was no time to dwell.
But now he was dead. He wasn't alive in the world, thinking of me. He no longer existed. Now no one except me knew what had happened in that room.
The scars stared back at me in the mirror, mocking, laughing, sending me spiralling.
Shiny, bumpy cords spelling out BB.
"Valerie, can I talk to you?"
I nodded at my friend and jumped off L's desk. "See ya, L." He inclined his head, his gaze drilling into my back as I left the dark, sparse room and followed BB through the rich, gilded hallways of the Whammy Orphanage, past the classrooms on the ground floor where evening lessons were taking place before dinner. Quinn caught my eye from one of the them, his expression exasperated as the tutor droned on in front of a blackboard, writing out equations in chalk. From beside him, Mello was equally as bored, munching on a piece of chocolate he'd pilfered from the kitchens. Chef Mayron would not be impressed. He sent me a disdainful glare and whacked Quinn upside the head. My hands fisted.
"Valerie?" Unwillingly, I moved away from the door, vowing to get revenge on the brat later. At the age of eleven, he was a menace to the other kids at Whammy House and even after six years he still picked on my brother the most. This was the last straw.
"Where are we going?" I asked curiously as we walked down the boy's corridor of the dormitory floor. Each door was painted in different colours and designs, done by yours truly during a week of boredom. The rest of the kids had been surprisingly excited to tell me what they wanted, especially Quinn – his was a mosaic of music notes, clefs and natural signs among other musical notation, painted blue and gold. Mello's was textured to appear like brown leather, Near's a pure white jigsaw. L didn't have a room on this floor.
The door we stopped at was purely black. Boring, I'd said at the time. BB had shrugged and said there was nothing else that could represent him better. In my naivety I had not questioned him.
"I've got something I want to show you," he said, letting me in. The room beyond was dark and cluttered, the curtains thrown open to capture the moonlight that shone over the empty field behind the house where a tennis court, playground and swimming pool sat, the water gleaming incandescently. Picking my way through school debris, completed homework and essays to spare, I noticed a piece of paper with my name written on it. Curious, I picked it up. My curiosity quickly turned to horror.
"BB, what is this?"
"Hmm?" He leaned on the door, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, his dark hair shadowing his eyes. Always the black, with him. Black eyes, black hair, black clothes. In one of his hands was a hunting knife, its handle as black as his door. I was starting to regret coming in.
"Have – have you been watching me?" The paper was filled with observations, notes on my behaviours, my interactions with the other students. Most notably was the amount of speculation of my relationship with L. Disturbing speculation.
"Yes." His expression did not change from its studied blankness.
"Why?"
"Because you interest me."
From the amount of data he'd collected, it seemed as though he found me more than interesting. I cast around, looking for more hints about what he thought of me, when I noticed a ominous trend in his choice of posters. 'L's hacked into walls, written with what almost appeared to be blood, written so angrily the poster paper had torn. L, L, L, L, L. L was everywhere. Omniscient and watching all the time. It wasn't me that interested BB, it was L. I was only one of the many details in the great detective's life that BB had made it his duty to know everything about. There was something very sickening in all of this.
BB wandered closer, not caring of the papers he crunched underfoot, crowding me towards the bed. "Why do you matter to him?" he said, not really asking me so much as wondering aloud. I backed up and my legs hit the bed frame, sending me falling onto the mattress. In an instant he was there, one fist jammed into my abdomen, the other trailing the knife down my bare neck.
"What do you want?" I choked out, barely able to keep in my lunch as his knuckles dug deeper. Fear was rushing over me like a wave, fear I hadn't felt in a long time. It was smothering, cloying, settling on my chest like an old friend who'd once stripped me bare without me even knowing.
"To know why." He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face, black eyes huge and hungry. "Why are you so important when he barely even looks at me? What makes you special? What makes you different?"
"Nothing! Nothing at all, I swear!" I cried, too scared to twist out of his grasp for fear of that knife at my collarbone. His free hand curled around my shoulder with a strength that made the bones feel as though they were about to break. I gasped in pain.
"There has to be something," he snarled. "Why would the great detective take notice of a worthless girl like you? You can't even sleep without screaming."
"I don't know! I don't know!"
"You're weak, you're pathetic, and yet he lets you stay with him. I. Don't. Understand." With every word the knife pressed deeper, grinding against my collarbone and drawing blood that pooled and spilled over, dripping off my neck and onto his duvet. "He just needs to see how worthless you really are. How he can do so much better." He shifted away, the pressure releasing from my shoulder. Tears of relief ran down my temples as I tried to find the strength to escape. My body felt as weak as a newborn, unwilling to comply to my demands. It was the sound of a bunsen burner lighting, something I recognised from chemistry class, that had me shooting upright. He was at his bedside table, the blue flame visible under his arm. Why did he have a bunsen burner? Why?
The terrible possibilities raced through my mind as I scrambled off the bed and rushed for the door. There was a snarl from behind me and I was tackled to the floor, my head smacking the door handle as I went down. Groaning, feeling my skin split open, I tried to kick him off. He was too strong – he had six years on me at least, being the second oldest student at the House after L, and at twenty-two he was at his prime. I screamed and scratched at him but he easily dragged me over the carpet, uncaring of the burns I got on my stomach when my shirt rode up.
He threw me onto the bed, wrenching my arms as he did so, and straddled my back. With cool hands, he cut into my shirt, careful not to pierce my skin with his blade.
"Let me go, let me go," I begged, scrabbling for purchase, for a pillow, for anything to get me out of here.
"L needs to be shown the truth," he said and I saw him move out the corner of my eye. He held the knife over the burner's flame, the blade glowing red, orange, yellow, white. A scream worked its way out of my throat. My struggles intensified.
"You're nothing but his toy, Valerie. I'm going to break you. Then he'll see me." He laughed.
The second the searing point touched my skin I thought I was going to die for the pain.
Part of me wishes I had.
TOWRTA: Okay, I swear Misa is here next chapter, promise, and that one is half-way finished so it shouldn't be long now.
Alex (anon): "the power of the eyebrows is strong with this one . . ." Heh. Sorry, no Misa. She's coming though, and with her comes changes in the dynamics of Minerva and Light, Quinn and Sayu getting involved somehow (imagine Sayu shouting 'Mi-chan!' and Misa turning to answer her. Awkward scenarios abound) and so much more! Was this chapter enough for now though?
Yes, here it was. The dreaded answer to 'what did BB do?' But is this everything? Or did he continue on from just the knife? You will have to wait.
Next time: Misa Misa. Finally.