Wishing every one of you lovely readers a healthy, safe, happy day.
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"Hey…..…..…"
On a park bench, Harry lay dead. Black dress shirt consumed evening light. A black hole drooping over porcelain shoulders.
"…..…..…..…Hey…..…..…..…you….Wake…Oi….….sir…you asleep?…alright…..you…HEY…Oi oi…..…ake…cannot…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…..…SIR!"
Roused, Harry's hand seized a wrist in mid-swing. One, cinder green eye cracked open to find a young doltish police officer and the fading rays of daylight behind him.
"What's this about, now?"Grip unyielding, he asked. The man attempted to retract himself. Young officer - Kenichi Asano - destined to die in two years time from suicide after battling untreated depression and ptsd, cried and collapsed to his knees when his grasp clenched down. Hand in his creaking under his weight. Limb turning red then purple then blue. To Harry, bones were as fragile as an eggshell. "Slapping people awake. That's not right, is it?"
Asano had gone pale. Eyes blubbery, knees tippy. He trembled. "I-I'm sorry."
Harry is silent. Then burst into sinister laughter and tugged him close. Melodic voice a cold whisper in his ear. Whatever was said that morning will forever haunt Asano. Days and years to come. The whisper will be the first thing he thinks of waking up in a cold sweat. Last thing he hears before sleep. Memories of a hauntingly beautiful man glistening behind his eyelids on those dusky evening days while children played and humanity laughed. Will be the last thing he thinks of before stepping off a chair, neck tied with a belt to the ceiling fan.
Having let go of the frozen officer, Harry slipped off the park bench. Head tilted towards the sky, hands clasped at his back, he walked through the park to meet Light. Materialising about his shoulders was a black draping cassock. Lining seeping red; as though stained by blood.
The boy had just graduated and was out for an early dinner with his family. It had been an estimated 400 years since Harry had last been seen by humanity. Opening with a bang is what he sought.
Meeting the family is a seemly notion.
A smirk befitting of an edacious lioness purled his lips. "Kooey, Light."
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Light is treated to a high-class French restaurant. A splurge of pride on his parents' behalf. Harry sights him and his family outside. Lingering to be seated. The boy was in mid-conversation with his father when he spotted the God approaching the elderly man. At first nothing revealed his surprise. Far too used to the death God turning up unannounced at random times of the day, toying around invisibly.
What does splinter his cool features is Harry clasping a good-natured hand on his father's bicep and lively introducing himself as Light's good friend.
"- - aren't we, Light?" Harry shook Soichiro's tense hand. Head cocked to Light. Bright eyes inviting him to say anything.
"Good to see you," Light smiled without pause. "What brings you all the way into the city?"
"Searching for a place to eat. I am famished," he expressed to Sachiko; Light's mother. Knowing full well she hadn't seen hide nor hair of Light's friends since senior year began. She had complained about such not two days beforehand.
"Why don't you join us?" Sachiko beamed. She smiled to her husband, who had turned to look at her in utter confusion as he wiped his now frozen hand that had shook the strangers'. "Isn't that a lovely idea, darling?" He emitted a resigned sigh and nodded. Wallet hurting.
"If you wish."
Sayu had not said a word, so Harry glanced to her half-hidden behind her mother and winked. Her starstruck features jumped to enamoured.
"Has anyone told you, you look like Hideki Ryuga?" She asked and is unable to converse with him any longer. A waiter had come out and escorted them inside. They are seated to a table in the middle of the room under a chandelier. Harry next to Light and opposite Sochiro who was squished between his danger and wife.
"So," Sachiko entwines her fingers on the table. Teeth shining in her eager little smile. "how do you know Light? We didn't see you at the Graduation ceremony, and we would have noticed such a handsome man like yourself."
"Mum," monotoned Light.
"I'm an assistant teacher at the Academy Light went to."
"Aaah, so you've already graduated," Sochiro said. Assertive stare lingering on his Hallow pendant. "That's an interesting broach you got there."
"Thank you," Harry traced a finger on the silver emblem. "It's a family heirloom. Pretty, little thing. Wear it more out of family devotion than fashion."
"The symbol reminds me of something," Sochiro eyed the Divine object warily. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but it feels familiar."
"Really?" Harry shrugged. A genuine, cheeky one. "Maybe in a crime scene file?"
All but Sochiro at the table giggled. The man, not finding it funny in the least, took a sip of table water to swallow whatever words he felt to say.
"Depends if you or your family have a history with homicide."
"Perish the thought," Harry said, conspiratorially winking at Light. Who, after the affair of dinner told his family he will walk him 'home'.
Blocks away Light walked to a small, dimly lit playground. All children gone for the day. Nobody but a stray cat walked. This is where he is mistakingly shoved against a pole of a swing set. Light lit in brilliant anger.
"Don't ever do that again," he warned. Handsome young face turning monstrous. "Everything I learnt, I learnt from my father. And if I could smell your bullshit he definitely could too. If you plan to strut around again like you did tonight he could start poking into my life. Start finding pieces he doesn't want to see making me have to kill him," he laughed. Cruel and sad, "and I seriously don't want to have to do that anytime soon."
Smiling affably, Harry lazily raised his hand. Dull light shimmered outwards and materialised a sword. Tip tipping in-between Lights' collarbones.
"Because I am so concerned about you killing your father," he drawled. Joyful act dropping to the depths of Hell. He took a step, Light retracted. Weary of the sword. "I am going to continue strutting about, as you so kindly put. my dear Light."
"Will you now," Light bit. Meeting the God's stare straight on.
This was something that interested Harry, the boy never wavered in the face of the Divine.
"If you think you can stop me, boy," Harry lowered his voice intimately, "then you are a perfect fool. And you're no fool, are you Light?"
Quiet. Seething. Light agreed.
"So what are you going to do?"
"…Nothing." Light spat. Harry could feel the fury, humiliation and indignation roll inside of the human. It was glorious.
Slowly, the swords' point trailed a line up Light's soft neck. Haunted metal grazing his taut cheek - before swooping back onto Harry's shoulder. Bent at the waist, Harry peered at Light's face and grinned seeing thoughts darker than Edgar Allen Poe's. He ruffled the combed hair, "Good lad."
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Half-crest moon, resembling a chipped fingernail, brooded the sky above Light and the God of Death as they wandered home. A chill air nipped the human's cheeks. Every small gust of air sinking into his bones. Not very often he eyed Harry's coat, wondering why the God wore it when he felt no cold. No heat. No warmth. Harry was death itself.
The very truth of Death is a lonely chasm.
Bothered by the boy's moping, Harry silently undressed his cassock and threw it over Light's shoulders. Light looked questionably at the stolid God. Earned no answer, with a gruff, he shrugged into the material. Mindful of how soft and odd it was that a God wore an object of such Christianity.
"I am fond of the irony it creates," Harry said. Half grin aloof. "Are you not?"
Light though about it; he, Kira. Century's utmost prolific serial killer donning a cloth Vatican Priests wore. "This does have a nice taste."
"Doesn't it."
Soft trills sung from Light's pants' pocket. Flipping it open, he answered politely. Pausing on a street corner. The conversation was short and succinct. Listening in, Harry preened at hearing Watari's voice and his request to drop off Light's clothes at a location of his choosing.
"Suppose asking you not to come is a waste," lamented Light.
"Very," Harry perked.
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Seated on a bus bench, a God and human waited. Winter trees rustled. People at home slept. A growl ripped into the earthly silence and Light straightened. Rounding a corner, snap white headlights jaunted the dark street. Watari's, Wraith engine grumbled its way over. Pattering to a stop in front.
The man exited the vehicle in an almost identical suit from last time and an identical kindly smile on his old paper crinkled face.
"Good seeing you again, young man," he shook Light's extended hand. "Doing well, I hope?"
"Fantastic, thanks," Light sunk into the tedious pleasantries. "And you?"
"As well as an old man in this dreary weather can be. I can't wait for spring," Watari chuckled good-naturedly, not once faltering as his gaze caught Harry in Lights' shadow.
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Though the old wise man would not show it, a groundless fear accosted his soul. Erupted its tranquil stream like a shipwreck. So strong was this terror Watari's reptile brain screamed to flee. Jump into his car and drive far, far from the devilish white stranger behind his kind young friend.
The only sign of Watari's fear, though you would be hard pressed to see it in the dark, was the rapid paling of his skin.
Harry stood from the bench and extended his hand. Handsome eyes gleamed in the dark like a cats'.
"Good evening, sir Watari," he introduced, smile affable. Accent a blend of many. "I'm a friend of Light's."
Being the spokesperson of his ward L, Watari met his fair share of psychotic criminals. Each and every one, no matter how evil or vicious Watari always managed to stand his ground. Keep his head cool.
As he stared at the hand of the stranger, Watari faltered. "Yes," he said. Took it. Shook it, and deposited his hand into his pocket. "Good evening. Sorry, you took me by surprise. I expected to see Light alone."
"He insisted," Light said abashedly. "Should I have said something?"
"No, no, dear boy," Watari kept his eyes on the younger man. Mind attempting to ignore the dark visual of the stranger, screaming to get a hold of himself. "I have your clothes in the boot, just wait a second, I'll go and fetch them."
"Allow me to help," Harry advanced to the Wraith. Granting Watari no time to politely decline. "Sorry if I caused you a shock, old man."
Watari amiably argued that. Insisting that it was his old age messing with him, when he spotted the pendant pinned to the man's top. A cold, sharp screech rang so terrible in his head Watari drew back. Chill in his heart, Watari watched the stranger collect Light's dry cleaned clothes over one arm. The stranger straightened, head cocked and charming smile in place.
"Another shock?" He asked.
This was not the time, or place to confront such a horrible man. Watari was nothing more than a spokesperson.
"Slight," Watari admitted. Willing his heart to calm down. To his knowledge, even Kira couldn't hold a candle to this kind of scum.
"Careful," Harry brushed past him. Tone far too teasing and intimate for Watari's comfort, "you wouldn't want to have a heart attack."
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