.

The most interesting thing about Yagami Light, is that his entire life was a lie from start to finish.

"You think so?" Light asks.

Black pointed slippers sitting respectfully next to Light's own on the floor. The Master of Death lolls on his bed; long, thin legs crossed over one another and back pressed against the wall. Harry absently thumbed through one of Light's history textbooks while he spoke.

"I know so," Harry said. Screwing up his eyes to momentarily glance out at the pouring rain through Light's balcony glass door.

As he does, he tells the story of Light's birth and the complications that came along with it. His first breath, thought, word – lie – steps. Slow decent into boredom and isolation. A genius who could not comprehend the world around him – or rather, he understood too well and could not apprehend why it turned out the way it has.

In silent fascination, Light listens. Finding himself to be unsurprised at the Master of Death's length of knowledge. Simply considering.

Yagami Light, a candied shell of a human being. Exhausted in the performance of living while the world around rots from control, had found Death.

He had found a God, and desired to become its better.

"You haven't told me the end," he says when Harry suddenly stops. "Is my ending so dull that you can't bother telling me?" he dares.

Outside rainwater hits the glass door in soft pats.

Pat-pat-pat

The deity gives a polite, but apathetic smile. "Rushing to the last page of a book spoils the surprise," he says. "The anticipation, wonder and excitement you could have experienced is is all gone the moment you read it. Actions become predictable. Characters are left empty. You begin to skip paragraphs, pages, chapters until you begin where you had started. The end."

Pat-pat-pat

"And then you figure, oh gosh, I just wasted so much time. I wish I never read it. The ultimate climax you see people enjoy is a dismal. As the Master of Death I can't help but look whenever I meet someone," Harry says. "Endings I know too much of, motivations and desires are something I'm out of touch with. So, tell me. Why would you risk such profound boredom for some morbid sense of curiosity?"

Green eyes pin him, and Light knows instantly he's been seen through.

Pat-pat-pat

"Ah ha," Harry sat motionless. "You think that by knowing, you can prevent it. Funny. You can't. I could flick you on the forehead right now and your head would come flying off your shoulders."

Light calmly deliberates, "Do I take that I fail?"

"Take it, and live with uncertainty," Harry says. "As any human naturally does after visiting a psychic and getting their fortune told."

Something didn't add up to Light. "So, if it's as boring as you say it is why stick around for an empty climax? Why ask about my intentions with the notebook when you already know them?"

He was getting a bad feeling about this. It doesn't make sense.

To Harry, it perfectly did.

And he took what Light asked with indignation. As though he had just thrown salt onto an open wound, "What… a… rude suggestion that I know what your intentions are."

Light shrugs, "If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck..."

"To know an end and understand what drove you to get there are two entirely separate things." Explains Harry. "One of which my sight is blocked by."

Closing his eyes, Harry rolls his head back with a sigh. Dark, curly hair masking half his face.

Pat-pat-pat

"Can't a bored, out of touch fellow search for understanding in what drives humanity to their deaths?" he asks. Listless. Exhausted. "I watched Rome fall in twenty four different universes and every single time they acted surprised. Imbeciles! So many senseless endings. I can't fathom what they were thinking, those cooky bastards."

In a peculiar sort of way, Light could sympathise. How the world has tuned into a utopia for cockroaches was beyond him.

Death abruptly chuckles. Sending a cold, feverish shiver burst inside Light's chest like an infection.

"I'll tell you a secret, Yagami Light," he said. "Before meeting you I had wondered whether or not I should care about killing you. You were disorienting the Veil and strings of Fate by the immense amount of bodies you were dropping. But then I saw your death and had to wonder," Harry pauses. Shaking his head. "What on earth were you thinking, a man who appeared to be two steps ahead, the world at his fingertips, deceptive, crafty, intelligent - to end like bloody..."

Despite not getting an answer, Light wanted to laugh.

The Master of Death seemed to be on a bit of soul searching.

"What – "

"I always think," Harry's eyes abruptly snap open to the ceiling. Brilliant green flashing behind bangs. Light silences at unstable switch of temperament.

Pat-pat-pat

"That the sort of people who ask too many questions make absolute dreadful company. People like that don't respect other's privacy. They go snooping and flirting. Always questioning business they have no right of council to. It's a most immodest habit that I hope…" he looks away, seeming to interrupt himself in apparent frustration. As though somebody had just jumped out and screamed.

Strangely, he bursts into a short, mad giggle before silencing and staring at him.

Light contains his flinch at those endless pits of knowledge.

"No, really. I hope for your own head of health that you quit. To inadvertently decapitate you would be such a - while a momentarily thrilling twist of fate, unfortunate in the long run. I'd love for things to have meaning again."

Taking a hint, Light ends the single most enthralling and bewildering conversation he's ever had and returns to his studies. Implementing the insinuation of decapitation and short tempers to memory.

Pat-pat-pat

"If it's not too much trouble," he says after a handful of minutes. Tone carefully polite. "My family might hear you or see you, so if you insist on sticking around please stay hidden – "

"Don't bother," said Harry. "Currently, I'm only seen by you and separate supernatural entities in the area. I can wish to be seen if I want to but I'm not overly fond of screeching mothers. For some reason, my appearance startles people."

Questions tempered for now, Light simply says, "To be fair, you're not easy on the eyes. To us mortals you really do look like what you are." Death Himself.

"Tell me, putatively speaking if I wanted to be seen without such volatile reactions, what should I adjust?"

Light doesn't ask about his apparent metamorphosis, and said: "Look more familiar."

"H'm…I see."

.

Harry gives little interest in Light's studies, and quietly drifts off to search the rest of his house. Fazing through the bedroom wall, he enters a hallway and strolls down the staircase to where he could hear voices coming from.

In the kitchen, Yagami Sachiko, mother of Japans' ruthless serial killer, was busy cooking dinner for everyone. Apron on and happily singing a trot song under her breath. Harry comes up behind her to the stove. Leans over her shoulder and smells the stew simmering. Rich, creamed stock and beef swelters up into his nostrils and Harry is taken back to the Weasleys.

Sachiko shivers, head swinging around and Harry inclines backwards to avoid the unpleasantness of someone alive entering his body.

He watches her for a few more seconds before retiring into the communal room where Sayu, youngest of the Yagami family, was watching a TV drama. Sitting cross-legged on the couch and hugging a pillow in her lap.

Siting besides her, weight leaving no dip on the couch, he studies what was playing on TV. A handsome Japanese man with blonde-dyed hair was acting out an incredibly inaccurate magic scene.

He gets a spontaneous urge to rip the man's head off in pure offence.

"Ha," Harry huffs, tilting his head when there was a close up on him. "…H'm."

Conjuring a circular mirror that floats mid-air, he morphs his prominent European features into one that resembles the man. Satisfied, he stands and appairates besides Light's desk. Giving him a jump.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't…" the boy stares long and hard at him. "You look a bit familiar."

Satisfaction of a job well done wears off instantly.

"Hideki Ryuuga, well," Light half-smirks, "I guess if you were to base your appearance off of anybody, Japans' top ranked idol would be the way to do it. You look more approachable."

"Idol," Harry repeats. Cobwebbed memories of his children and others calling him that. For his sacrifices in the war. The repeated dying. "Funny that, I don't recall him kicking it."

"Oo-kay."

.