9. FAIRYTALE
A/N: Hey, guys. I'm posting this early because I have limited internet access at the moment. Enjoy!
The passage water looks stagnate. Almost lying in wait like a predator crouched in the grass, prepared to lunge for its prey. It's haunting even for Light to look at as he wades deeper, letting it rise to his knees.
"How much farther?" he calls to shore.
Ryuzaki nods with his head, directing him. "A little farther, then drop the coins into the water."
Light takes a few more steps, feeling the sludge between his toes. A chill runs down his spine, and he removes the sack of coins from within his long coat and tosses it into the lake, letting the sack sink into the dark depths.
He waits.
And waits.
And waits.
Soon, he wonders if he's been fooled. "You said to toss it into the water. Why isn't anything happening?"
Ryuzaki leans against his scythe and gives a shrug. "Maybe you're supposed to chant something?"
Light rolls his eyes. Before he dives to search for the sack, the water starts rippling. The sand between his submerged feet starts to move. He swiftly scrambles out and returns to shore. The fog lifts, and a black shape forms, growing in size each passing second until it's a looming shadow over their heads. The hull has been split in half and pieces of wood stick out like shark teeth. Black sails ungulate like waves in the wind. Cobwebs cloak the ship's bow like a blanket.
The ominous vessel anchors. A ladder drops in front of the pair, as if asking them to board. Unsure, Light hesitates, but Ryuzaki balances the scythe on his shoulders and boards first. Light places a sliver of trust in the idea that Ryuzaki will be capable of handling the crew should things not go as planned.
When Light's feet land on the deck, a foul odor stings his nose. It's like a combination between pond water, shit, and rotting flesh. The boat has been left in poor condition. Holes scatter across the deck, part of the main mast has been broken off, detaching the crow's nest, and small insects crawl between the wooden panels. Most suspicious of all: There's no crew in sight. Light does well to avoid the holes and insects, but he wonders how such a massive ship could be capable of sailing or even staying afloat without its main mast fixed. He has never seen anything quite so depressing and fascinating at the same time. Some supernatural element must be in play here.
Meanwhile, Ryuzaki ignores the warnings and heads toward the captain's quarters. He knocks twice. No answer. His fingers wrap around the doorknob. It's locked. With a scowl, he kicks open the door, knocking it off its hinges, and enters. The place is barren minus a dusty table and chair. On the table sits an untitled book. Ryuzaki leans his scythe against the wall, dusts the chair off and plops down. He shifts, searching for a comfortable position but finds none. Pulling his legs into his chest, he sits up and leans forward, letting his body hover just a few inches off the chair. For some odd, inexplicable reason, he finds this position the most comfortable out of everything he's tested. With his pointer finger and thumb he pinches the corner of the book and opens it. The first picture is of a little boy, no older than five, alone and weeping. He wipes his eyes, hidden beneath a mound of dark, messy hair. Ryuzaki furrows his brow and a pain stings his chest that he can't seem to understand. Regardless, his curiosity urges him to read:
There was once a boy without a name,
Who knew no family, only pain.
And the boy wandered far and wide,
For he never stayed long, like the tide.
Over mountains and hills he went.
For wherever he walked, there was nothing but regret.
Then one day he was traveling abroad,
When he came across something rather odd.
A single apple tree sat amid dust.
That called to him asking to discuss,
What might perhaps have been the first time,
The boy spoke to a being not of his own kind.
"Hello," said the apple tree. "You must have traveled far."
"Hello, back," the boy said. "I travel by star."
"Do you?" The tree asked, its branches scratching together.
"Yes, I do. No matter how difficult, even the weather."
"May I ask you a favor? I promise it will be worthy."
The boy nodded, his mouth dry, thirsty.
"I will reward you with apples, if you regale me with tales."
The boy paused, still unsure of the details.
"My apples are sweet and pure. Not worthy of scum,"
"Many come to pick them and then run."
"I want to know of the world beyond,"
"This treacherous island I've been marooned on."
"And let my fruit make you big and strong,"
"So that you may always return no matter how long."
The boy pondered, without a clue,
Of how such an offer may be true.
He'd known nothing but pain and cruelty.
To see something of such beauty,
Brought tears to his dark eyes,
That he could not hide behind.
So the boy made a vow to return annually,
As his story and body grew gradually.
For the tree listened and let him eat,
Under its truck he would always seat.
Until one day, when the boy became a man,
And he no longer had stories to command,
He said to the tree, "I must be off,"
"For there's nothing left to tell on this rock."
But the tree said, "Not so fast,"
"For I have one final request I must ask."
"Drink from my sap, oh lonely one,"
"And our pact together will be over and done."
So the man obeyed and licked the sap.
Not realizing he had fallen for a trap.
The tree withered and died.
While the man stood surprised,
His stomach began to expand,
And his feet sank into the sand.
Then out from his gaping mouth,
Came a tree that reached the clouds.
And from this tree sprouted fruit,
That many across the world came to loot.
For years the tree remained still,
Until there came a frightful winter chill,
That left the tree ugly and bare,
Absent any fruit, anywhere.
And the story of the boy without a name,
Became a legend both dreary and untamed.
Ryuzaki closes the book and rests his chin on his knees, drinking in the story's context. Dust particles flutter around him, and he blows them away. The ache in his chest seems to evolve into a fire that he can't douse. Its smoke reaches his throat, turning it to ash. The more he records the story in his head, the more powerful the fire becomes. His clenches his chest, and his mind swims until someone comes through the broken door, snapping him back to reality.
"What are you doing?" Light asks.
"Sitting, of course."
Light frowns at the retort and nods to the book on the table. "Is that a useful read?"
Ryuzaki shakes his head. "No, it's a bad book."
"About what?"
Ryuzaki pushes it toward him. "Read it yourself if you're so inclined." More dust particles fly into the air, and he waves his hand vehemently to disperse them before they find shelter in his eyes or throat. Even the thought of one of those floating pieces touching his body makes his stomach churn.
Light opens the book and sifts through the first few pages. His brow furrows, and he takes a sheaf of papers and lets them fall between his fingers like water. "These pages are blank."
"Or maybe you are that blind."
"Can't you say anything that's not belittling?"
"Nope." Ryuzaki stands up. "You see, I don't have any obligation to be nice to you. After all, you're Kira. The same Kira who killed L. The same Kira who murdered thousands in cold blood. The same—"
"Okay," Light interjects. He calms himself before his emotions ruin him. "Okay, I understand. You're right. You're absolutely right. I did those things, and I can't take them back. Kira was evil and petty. That's why I'm here to prove that I'm not the same as I once was. So I ask you not to judge a man based on the sins of his former self."
Ryuzaki's dull eyes watch him, searching for any sign of deception. But Light knows well enough how to play innocent. It's a technique some must learn and others know naturally. Actors spend years perfecting deception. Light had been born with it, as if it were a birthmark engraved into his skin.
The pale man presses his finger to his lips almost by habit. A part of Light wants to convince himself this is L reborn. But simply speaking and moving like the real L does not constitute a match.
"I don't trust you, Yagami-kun," Ryuzaki admits. "I doubt I ever will. In this life or the next, whichever life we were created to endure. If you were to die, I wouldn't lose sleep."
"That's fine. But I'm not going to allow you to bully my intentions or my reasoning quietly anymore." He continues to fight back his emotions from spilling through. "From now on, I will stand with my beliefs, even against you. And, if you don't like them, then that's your opinion."
Ryuzaki's eyes narrow and his fingers stroke the scythe's handle. "Ninety-four," he says.
"What?"
"Ninety-four percent. That's how much I don't trust you." His scowl shapes into a crooked grin. "Congratulations, thanks to your little speech, I'm now six percent less likely to hate you."
Light scoffs. "I should consider myself lucky then."
"Until that number hits zero, you're never lucky." Ryuzaki nods over his shoulder. "So are we moving?"
"Yes," Light says. "I couldn't find a crew, so I've come to the conclusion that this ship travels as if on autopilot."
The duo returns outside to the deck where the fog cloaks the world so much, it seems as if the ship is sailing through a never-ending gray cloud. The foul odor clings to his nose like an infant to a mother's breast, and Light stunts his breathing before he passes out. He had almost forgotten that he doesn't need to breathe, but by now it's a force of habit.
"How much time do you believe has passed?" Ryuzaki asks, examining the broken main mast.
"Not enough," Light answers. "Perhaps there's a way to pick up speed." He surveys the deck and finds an entrance leading down into the ship's hull, finding no cannonballs where they should be seated attentively, ready to fire onto incoming danger. If this were a true pirate ship, someone would have shown their face already and forced him into the brig.
The brig.
Light descends several flights of stairs to reach it. Instantly, he hears a voice singing in jubilance. Walking with caution, he enters the brig, a place that has been overrun with cobwebs and the skeletal remains of human and animal-like Shinigami. Some remains look genuinely frightful, almost prehistoric. The singing lures him like a light in the darkest of places. For some reason, no matter how much his mind tells his feet to stop following, the singing draws him closer. The familiarity in its tone keeps him moving, never stopping to rest. His body is a slave to the music's divine enchantment.
He turns a corner and comes across a blonde figure sitting in the darkness beyond a set of cell bars. At first, it looks like nothing more than a head floating, but upon closer inspection he notices the black dress and bowties on either pigtail. The siren call comes to an end as the person turns around to face him.
If Light's heart could beat, it would have stopped at this very moment. His mouth hangs open, and his eyes widen in the same way they did when he first saw Ryuzaki's manifestation form from his own blood.
"Misa?"
A/A/N: I honestly had no idea where I was going with this. I thought I'd end the chapter with our boys arriving at the City of Gods. But I guess this story has taken on a mind of it's own. Well, can't help it…