Chapter VII
A couple of days have passed since that fateful encounter. The city continues to bustle, despite the fear of another terrorist attack—lives must only move onward. And so does the Commissioner, stepping over the obstacles of lost loved ones, close encounters of crippling death, and the observation of mass homicide. He persists with the rest of the human species, doing all that they know: passing the time.
He sits at his desk, slipping the ultimate weapon in his briefcase, strapping it closed, preparing to leave.
"Are you going home again?" Ryuk hangs upside down, feet facing the ceiling with crossed arms.
Light replies with silence, a golden band still securely tucked away in the breast pocket of his suit. Ever since his visit to Sakura's hospital room, he has refrained from breathing a word, the only thing playing through his mind is the scene of his childish demeanor upon exit. Latching the briefcase closed, he sits back in his chair with a deep sigh, holding the butt of a pen to his lips, frustrated with himself.
"You know, instead of sulking, maybe you could do something a little more entertaining to watch. Like kill a few people. That's always good."
Light tosses his pen to the desk with a scoff. Nothing intrigues him but one, yet he fails to bring himself to confront his errors, having not the courage to belittle his ego. However, if he does not show within the next twelve hours, she would've been released without seeing him once more. And Light is nothing if not true to his word—if the circumstances favor him at least.
Ryuk scowls, "Can you at least get off your lazy ass to buy some more apples? Geez, I need some entertainment in my life."
Light's eyes turn to the briefcase in a split-second glance before he rises from his seat and takes hold of it, leaving the room. Ryuk follows behind, floating effortlessly with a pout. Though people wave as he departs, Light ignores them, reaching the elevator without so much as acknowledging their existence.
The doors swoop open.
It is empty—no ogling eyes this day.
He steps in and presses the lobby button, face void of any readable emotion. Normally, impatient as he is, Light checks his watch or begins to tap his shoe on the tile, anxiously waiting for the doors to reopen and allow his passage out—so that he may be free from the prison of responsibility and delve into satisfying achievements of cleansing their new society. But he is not anxious, waiting for the world to once again open itself to his impacting presence. He simply is. Going with the time instead of ahead or against it. Living only in the moment. Having no real reason or purpose other than to merely exist.
He is not depressed.
Light situates himself on the leather seat of his limousine, setting his briefcase gently next to him, laying it on its side. He faces forward, cupping his hands in his lap, sitting quietly until the driver notices his presence.
"Ohh, sorry sir! I didn't hear you come in." He straightens his hat, peering over at the emotionless man staring back at him. "Same place?"
Light's face hardens. "No," He quietly, yet sternly, responds. "Take me to the hospital."
When he arrives, he walks past the receptionists, looking only at the end of the hall where the elevator doors lie. They take no heed, dealing with frustrated families of loved ones who just suffered an attack from a group of chakura-users. Light hears this, but his belly does not boil with contempt, his eyes do not flare with fury, he simply continues walking, right foot first.
On his way up to the room, he receives sideways glances of sparkling eyes, admirers whose only source of hope is that of the Commissioner himself—as he is the one that keeps their streets clean of filth, or tries as best he can. The doors open and he strides over to the designated door. His hand rests on the handle, the first signs of anxiety surfacing within him.
He takes a breath and opens the door.
A nurse fixes the bed, straightening freshly washed blankets.
Light's hand falls from the handle. The nurse jumps, not expecting him. "Ohh, Mister Commissioner, hello."
"There was a girl here."
"Ohh, yes, there was. Sakura Haruno, yes? She was released early. The doctor said she recovered so quickly that she could—"
But Light was already gone.
He walked back down the corridor, hate suffocating him. If he had admitted his defeat before now, he could have kept his word. But it is broken, and because it is, there is no telling what Sakura may be feeling. Animosity? Betrayal? Hurt? Perhaps sorrow, depression, sadness. Perhaps she is not enough reason to halt one's activities. Maybe she is as worthless as one mere life is.
Light punches the down arrow, a crack distorting the image in a diagonal motion.
He heaves in anger, sweat dripping from stiff strands hanging in his face. Quickly, he composes himself with the opening of the elevator doors. He reaches the lobby after an eternity of waiting and rushes to his limousine. He gives the address to Sakura's residence and arrives there too much time later.
The curfew is nearly in effect.
Hastily ringing the bell, he impatiently waits for an answer. Much time passes before the knob turns, the door opening only slightly. It opens just wide enough to show Sakura's full face. Her eyes are rimmed with red as well as her cheeks. Her nose is raw and wet. She sniffles, showing both shock and annoyance in her eyes.
"What," She asks with an irritated tone.
Having no other thing on his mind, Light inquires, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just a sad movie is all. Is there something you needed?"
Light stiffens, "Uhm, yes." He reaches into his breast pocket with masked spite, bowing as he holds it out to her. "I found your ring."
Her eyes widen, "Ohh…"
He places it in her cupped hands, standing straight once more. "I would have seen you sooner, but I felt it was inappropriate had I not found this first."
She grips her fist holding the ring, resting them on her chest, "Th-thank you, Light. This…means a lot." Tears streak down her cheeks.
The display being almost unbearable, Light looks away shamefully, knowing if he were to keep watching, he would have undoubtably wished to wipe them away—knowing full well how unfitting it is. Shaking off his dismay, he forces a believable smile with a soft expression, "I knew it would make you happy."
Her joy washes away. She opens the door wide, motioning him in, "Would you like to—?"
Light raises his hand, "Thank you, but I must be going." God only knows what I'd do if I stayed.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." No.
"I just made some tea; I have no problem sharing with you."
"It's not that, I just have some important work to do for the office, regarding the Orochimaru case."
"Ohh, I've heard about that on the news. I know the department isn't responsible, but not everyone thinks that way. They'll think the department was just trying to cover up their involvement." She leans on the board of the doorway, "I hope the trial goes well."
"As do I. Now, I should—"
"What exactly do you have to do? I thought there were hardworking officers that take on cases like that. The Commissioner shouldn't have more than a political standpoint on things, you know, with speeches and all that. It's not like you have to do the paperwork. Or…maybe the system's changed."
Light smirks with a short sigh.
She smiles back, "Come on, you can finish the movie with me."
She stands straight and heads back inside. Light's smile fades, realizing that Sakura was indeed crying over a movie. His worry of her distraught reaction to his absence vanishes as soon as he sees the screen. A western film, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas, created eons ago. "Hmm, sad indeed." Light sits next to Sakura on her soft-cushioned couch, taking in the delightful atmosphere. There is maybe twenty minutes left of the movie. Japanese subtitles banner the bottom of the screen. "I don't know if it'll evoke an emotion from me though."
She shrugs her shoulders, "So? It's better than…" She drifts into silence for a moment, curling up her knees. "Let's start, shall we?"
The movie plays.
He watches her for a second, then faces the screen, her statement bothering him. She didn't need to finish her sentence to strike worry, he knew her too well, already knowledgeable of her unspoken thoughts. It is painfully clear. It is better than being alone.
They sit a few inches apart, mostly of the doing of Light's. In his efforts to remain uninfluential—or out of the fear of making a fool out himself again—the experience in spending this time together proves empty. An awkwardness floats in the air, weighing heavily on their shoulders. And Ryuk's smug expression doesn't help. Light didn't even take off his coat, as though he is so eager to leave, or chomping at the bit for the movie to end at least.
Sakura glances at him a couple of times, leaving her tea on the plater resting upon the coffee table before them. Finally her concern renders unavoidable, and she pauses the movie in the midst of the last few minutes, directly prior to the best part. "Are you bored? You didn't have to stay if you didn't want to you know."
"Huh? Ohh no, I'm fine." She doesn't believe him. "Really, I'm enjoying myself. Go ahead and continue the movie."
She waits a moment, then presses play. After setting down the remote, she calmly lays against Light's chest, lightening to the jumpstart of a racing heart. She smiles to herself, almost relieved.
Light lifts his arms, though they were not in the way. He holds them in place, as if resting them would be the ultimate sin. The air traps in his lungs, his throat dry but skin saturated with sweat. His abdomen whirls with angst as his trembling hands succumb to a rest. One lazily lounges on the armrest of the couch, while the other gingerly drapes over Sakura's waistline, inconspicuously cognizing the smooth texture of her nightgown.
She raises a hand to his chest, unmoving from her comfortable position or turning from the screen, "You're burning up. Did you want to take your coat off?"
Light swallows down the lump in his throat, "No, I'm fine. This is nothing compared to what I've been through before."
"Nervous?"
Light holds his breath for a moment, but casually states, "No, are you?"
His answer would've been more believable if Light hadn't stammered over his words with quivering lips.
"Nope. Not at all actually."
So smug. Light faces away, hoping his nervous coat of sweat doesn't soak through his expensive suit—though it probably already has. Why am I so nervous, He asks himself. It's not like we haven't spooned before.
In only a short amount of time, the film concludes. As the credits scroll upward, Sakura rises to wash her dishes. Light, trying to get over his consuming angst, observes his surrounding before realizing he is still on her couch. Jumping to his feet, he takes a deep breath to calm himself.
"Perhaps I should be going," He hollers to her.
"Alright, I'll see you later."
She continues to do the dishes.
Light pouts slightly, feeling he deserves a bit more for a goodbye. He sulks so long that Sakura returns before he has left—or even moved from where he stands. He watches her casually stroll by.
"I thought you had to go."
"Right."
Light makes for the door, grabbing the handle. He pauses only for a second, hoping that Sakura will change her mind, maybe insist he stay for a few minutes more—though he would politely try to turn her down all the same. But she does not say a word. She rests on the couch and switches the television's setting to a cooking channel.
She does not look at him.
Taking the hint, Light opens the door and walks out.
"Light!"
He is about to reach his car when he hears it, the sweet, syrupy sound of his name crawling from lightly glossed lips. A warmth fills his chest, a relief. He turns around to see Sakura practically hanging out of the door, something concerning her.
"It's past curfew! Come inside."
In that moment, Light could've spoken. He could've told Sakura the underlying truth, or perhaps the truth she wished to forget. Naturally she would've been knowledgeable on such tedious matters, but now she is not. Light could've corrected her, told her that he is safe wandering the streets no matter the time, inform her of a fact withstanding since after the war.
But Light steps inside.
Sakura takes his coat and hangs it in the neighboring closet. He removes his formal shoes and unbuttons his suit coat. "It's never safe at night, especially in this part of town." Sakura scurries off to the kitchen. "Would you like something?"
"No, thank you."
She comes back with Shochu and water. She mixes them in a glass and happily hands it to him.
"Ohh, erm, thank you."
"I know you said you didn't want anything, but you looked like you had something on your mind earlier, and this is your favorite drink for stress."
Light blushes timidly, thinking of how cute it is that she remembered. "Aren't you going to have any?"
"No, I'm not really up for it right now. Besides, I need to get to bed soon. I have work in the morning."
"Ohh, you got a new job?"
"Mhm, and it pays well too. I don't really need it because of Naruto's life insurance, but it's better than staying in this empty house all day."
"About that. Sakura—"
"I better get to bed. You can help yourself to whatever you like."
Hastily, she starts to leave, but Light gently grabs her arm, pulling her back. In the same instant, he wraps his arms around her. She gasps, but doesn't struggle. His hold is firm, showing no indication of release. "I'm sorry."
The words make Sakura flinch. She wasn't expecting anything of the sort from Light.
When the simple yet sincere statement settles in the depths of her mind, her eyes shake with reflective droplets of content. She rests her chin on his shoulder, leaning her head against his. The weight clenching her chest dissolves into relief, the pressure has lifted.
The moment is neverending.