DS
Disclaimer: If it's mentioned in this chapter and you think you could sue me for owning it, it's somebody else's.
Chibi Misa: Back on schedule, guys!
Chibi L: With all due respect, I still think we're a little late.
Chibi Raito: I guess you're ri- EMMA!
Chibi L: …What?
Chibi Raito: I'm not sure… That was weir- EMMA!
Chibi Misa: …I think it's a sneeze.
Chibi L: That's odd. I wonder if it's contagious.
Chibi Raito: My nose- EMMA! Feels like it's- EMMA! About to explo- EMMA!
Chibi Misa: EMMANUCLEOSIS!
Me: …Wow. My muse is such a great person, she even has a disease named after her. Kudos to her, by the way, for grabbing my shoulders, shaking me, yelling 'WRIIITTTEEEE' and locking me in a box.
Chibi L: I see…
Chibi Raito: EMMA!
Chibi Misa: Here's another chapter for you, slaved over while within the confines of a cardboard box, no less! Read, review, and relax!
D S 12
When the warm, fuzzy daylight bled through the curtains and onto the couch that morning, L refused to move. He phased through most of the blankets, getting as close to Raito as he could. He knew that, given the grim difference between himself and the slumbering brunette next to him, this was as close as L was ever going to get.
The mini-death tightened his grip around Raito's waist and closed his eyes. Through force of will, imagination, or a combination of the two, L stretched his realm of consciousness to its limits. He swore he could trace every contour of every lean muscle in Raito's midsection. He swore he could feel the heat radiating from Raito's body and forcing the ice out of his fingers. He swore he could smell past that overpowering detergent scent. It was the sharp, sweet smell of Raito's hair, his sheets, his clothes…
When the mortal stretched his back and sighed sleepily, L was at loath to release him. Much to his delight, Raito seemed at loath to leave. Once he had yawned and reached his arms out, he remained rigid, muscles knotting and flexing, before falling completely limp. Kira decided against getting up. L agreed with him.
Raito sighed heavily, still under the effects of sleep-inertia, and quietly resigned himself to his fate. He didn't attempt to wriggle his way out of L's embrace. He accepted it, as he'd done the night prior, as being a greater evil for which he was no match.
L recognized after two minutes of motionlessness that Raito was going to make no move to speak. This suited L just fine, as he knew that, should Raito say anything, he would be unable to reply.
The mini-death heaved a lost sigh. The light bustle of morning traffic and the warm, yellowish light cast by the curtains was only serving to make his predicament all the more hopeless. The world would be as it would, full of listless activity, indifferent to the ultimate futility of its efforts. Existence would spin itself into blissful oblivion and L would remain, watching it all pass by in the pixels of his computer screen.
L would watch with a thumb to his lips as the undertakers escorted Raito's ebony chariot six feet into the earth. The grass would be neatly mown and the granite grave marker primly polished. It would be visited every day, then every weekend, then every month, and then every year.
After a while, the flowers would stop coming.
L would watch as Raito's tombstone eroded, slowly, details softening over the years until nothing was left but a mound of mossy granite. He would watch as the weeds sprouted and choked the lawn, twisting about every tree and marker. He would watch as the sky turned grey and the word 'Kira' was a set of letters spoken only in a two-paragraph article in someone's history book.
Raito Yagami would be a distant memory.
A dream of a dream.
And L would live forever.
Forever… It was an awfully long time to think about. L's life had already outlasted his memory. Perhaps the Old Man would call it quits once his ideal race either killed itself or died with the universe.
L wondered if he could last so long with Raito gone. If he'd foreseen his imminent attachment to a mortal, he never would have gotten involved.
Who was he kidding?
Of course he would have. L would have seen Raito's face, known the anguish he'd felt trying to kiss it, and been sucked into the mortal's life regardless of consequences.
L wondered if these had been Near's thoughts as he died. He remembered the sad, bottomless look to the other boy's eyes. He remembered Near's cryptic words; words which L could never reverse.
Thoughts he could never change.
L remembered walking beneath the frame of Near's dusty white door and thinking of how the other boy would never allow anything to get so dusty.
L found himself sitting once again in Near's dreary, beige colored room. Only… he wasn't himself. Rather, he sat at the opposite end of the room and watched a conversation between himself and Near.
Near…
Now L remembered. Near had called him one day and asked him to come over to his house. L had been infinitely surprised, as Near never called anyone. As close as he was to his best friend, Near had always preferred being alone.
His tone of voice over the telephone suggested dire urgency, though, so L hadn't bothered to ask questions.
Mello had died.
L remembered that, along with the anxiety in the other boy's usually quiescent voice, there had been an undertone of anger. L had never seen his friend angry before.
When he arrived, though, L saw no anger in Near's eyes. The fury in his voice had been replaced with sadness and acceptance. The confident stride in his step had vanished and he looked at L with something akin to guilt.
'I'm sorry I yelled,' he'd mentioned somewhat offhandedly.
L replied that it was perfectly fine. Near was forgiven. At the word 'forgiven,' the white-haired boy had given him the most peculiar and darkly unreadable of looks. He said nothing though, and continued trekking to his room.
Near sat down in his office-chair and L had been perfectly comfortable on the floor. L asked what Near wished to talk about.
So it turned out, the unstable mini-death only wished to spill his guts.
'I was never good enough,' Near had said, 'I knew it.'
L dutifully played the part of the best friend and contradicted everything he said with 'That's a LIE!' After the fifth denial of Near's inferiority, L realized that nothing he could say would have mattered.
Near had made his choice.
'I respect whatever you choose to do,' L offered, 'Just don't regret it.'
'Hah!' Near laughed snidely, 'As if leaving this place is anything to lament.'
After that, Near had explained through regretful events in his life, many of different natures, with the hope that it would clear his conscience. L listened and offered his opinion when and where it was needed.
Now, in the present, L watched as Near and his past self debated.
"How do you know you're going to the same place he's going?" L had asked out of curiosity.
"I don't know," Near shrugged with a sigh of exasperation, "I just… know." He breathed sadly through his nose and stared at a spot on the wall beyond L's former self. Ex-L tilted his head illogically and hummed.
"Why are you still here, anyway?" Near grumbled irately, "You're the one who thinks it's so boring here."
Ex-L blinked at the force of Near's words and decided that staying quiet was the best response. He waited for the other boy to regroup his thoughts and simmer down. Sure enough, Ex-L only had to wait a moment before Near's rigid shoulders went lax and his fiery eyes sunk downward.
"I yelled again, didn't I?"
"You did," remarked L.
It was quiet then. The muted midday sunlight bled drearily through the dusty, ice-colored curtains and turned much of the room an equally dreary shade of blue. Near's room hadn't usually been that gloomy. Normally there was a pile of dice or a stack of cards somewhere on his desk.
Anything that had once lit up the room had quietly slunk off and faded away.
L remembered how horrible he'd felt. It wasn't a teary, heart-wrenching sort of horror. The feeling was more of a numbness; an emptiness in a section of his heart that had once been brimming with a myriad of things. It bit at L to know that he couldn't convince Near to sway toward another course of action.
Mello was dead, and Near was going down after him.
"It's a funny thing, time travel," Near mentioned with an aching heart, "No matter how many times you go back and try to save the ones you love, nothing changes. All of one's heartfelt efforts merely contribute to an inevitable end result."
Ex-L blinked at him, ringed eyes full of misunderstanding.
Regardless of his friend's lack of comprehension, Near continued to speak. "I suppose it only makes sense, if one were to travel back in time. Actions contribute to actions, and those transfer to other actions. In the end, one finds himself in a web of things he tried to do to prevent the death of another."
Near sighed.
"Only to discover that every preventative measure he took merely contributed to the downfall everything he ever loved."
Both Ls were speechless. He remembered how confused he'd been by Near's insight. Ex-L shuffled around in his seat and felt generally out of place in the room of gloom.
"So then, L," Near deadpanned, "You think you're going anywhere soon?"
Ex-L recognized the snow-haired mini-death's code talk and replied, "I'll try not to. I have a feeling that something… big might happen."
"How do you know?" Near asked innocently.
"I don't know," Ex-L sighed, "I just… know."
Then occurred the event that would forever puzzle L, even after Near's death. His pale, white-haired best friend smiled secretively and said, "I know too."
Ex-L rocked back on the floor and leered distrustfully at Near. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I forgive you, L," Near smiled painfully, "And I'm sorry… for everything."
----
Raito didn't dare say a word.
He didn't dare protest against Ryuzaki's arms around his waist. He didn't dare move away from the pressure against his back.
Something in the way Ryuzaki clung to him suggested that he didn't dare let go.
The mini-death was considerably closer than he had been when Raito went to sleep. His hands were mere centimeters away and Raito could feel the press of each fingertip into his stomach. The contours of Ryuzaki's feet curled around his own and he could feel the ridges in Ryuzaki's face pressed flush against the base of his neck.
Oddly enough, the mini-death didn't feel the least bit cold.
Raito sighed against the fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had to say something.
"Ryuzaki…" he breathed. Ryuzaki's toes suddenly curled and relaxed. He stirred against the knots in Raito's spine and murmured a "Hm?"
Silence. Raito didn't know exactly what to say, just that the quiet and Ryuzaki's rigidity were bothering him. He knew better than to ask the clingy mess of jeans, sweater, and messy hair to leave. Raito didn't want to hurt his feelings or anything…
And there it was.
Fuck.
The kindergarten sentence.
Raito didn't want to hurt Ryuzaki's feelings.
The brunette gritted his teeth angrily. How embarrassing… Here he was, Kira, Lord of all he surveyed, and he was hesitant to put a dent in the ego of a lowlife like Ryuzaki. He considered the means by which he'd arrived at his state of nauseating humanity.
Well, he couldn't say that Ryuzaki's possessiveness wasn't flattering. He wasn't like Mikami, who suffocated him in worry after the incident on the bus. The mini-death just wanted to be there, constantly. Raito could have slapped himself in the face for venturing the thought that Ryuzaki's clinginess wasn't entirely obnoxious or unwelcome.
Raito wouldn't allow himself to consider the pressure of the mini-death against him to be heavenly, but for some reason (which he wanted to beat senseless, tie into a burlap bag and throw into the ocean), he tolerated it. After a night of being encircled within the arms of a socially lame-brained zephyr, Raito adjusted to the sensation.
He sighed, quite hopelessly, and invited the earth to swallow him whole.
"What are you thinking about?" Raito ventured in a hesitant whisper.
More thoughtful, oppressive silence.
"You," said Ryuzaki.
Raito closed his eyes and gulped down what the fretful mini-death would have interpreted as an anguished sob. Something about the hopelessness of the atmosphere was seeping into Raito's lungs. He found himself growing heavier and heavier with a depression he couldn't distinguish.
Ryuzaki had, until then, been tense in anticipation of an answer. Receiving none, he quietly wrapped his toes around the ridges in Raito's feet and bent back down to nuzzle the base of his neck lightly.
Try as he might, Raito couldn't find the heart to tell him to stop.
A deep intake of air was all to warn Raito of Ryuzaki's voice. "I don't want to leave you," the mini-death said evenly, as if it were a fact of life.
Raito had no reply. He didn't exactly want Ryuzaki to leave him either, and neither did he want Ryuzaki to know he felt that way.
"You don't have to," the brunette offered, singsong, as a method of averting the oncoming crisis. To this, Ryuzaki replied, "I do," in a very flat, accepting sort of way. Raito's reaction to this was a raise of the eyebrow and an inquisitive, "Why?"
"You'll die," said Ryuzaki.
Thinking rationally, Raito offered, "You're thinking very pessimistically."
"Yes," muttered the mini-death, "Though I see no other outcome."
Raito sneered. Die? Him? Well… there weren't many options for a member of the human race, but… Raito wasn't human. He was Kira. He'd find a way around death. Now that he knew the general workings of the universe, he was confident that he could find an alternative. "Maybe," Raito sighed, thinking honestly that he wasn't going to die, "But I think I can outwit Death any day. I am Death."
Raito's intuition whispered that the sudden pang of ice at the back of his head was one of Ryuzaki's more baleful glares. "You're still a mortal."
"Am not," Raito argued stubbornly.
"You are," stated Ryuzaki, "And there's nothing you can do to change it."
The brunette shrugged a shoulder into the psychopomp's face and scowled, "So what were you hoping to do about it?"
"I'm not sure," the panda-boy mused, "My mood seems to have disintegrated somewhat, and with it, my thoughts."
To this, the brunette shut his eyes and murmured tiredly, "That tends to happen."
"Hm," said Ryuzaki.
Raito didn't feel like the world deserved the blessing of having his gaze set upon it, so he retreated back into his blankets and marveled at how rotten quiet mornings were. Sure, Raito loved thinking. He also loved the silence required for a good, relaxing bout of thought.
But this was just stupid.
He didn't want to consider the precarious situation he was in, he didn't want to sift through the details of Ryuzaki's undying love, he didn't want to calculate how long until he woke up one morning to find that the mini-death was no longer a cold cloud of air, he didn't want to think about how close Ryuzaki's lips were to his neck, and he definitely didn't want to consider how nice they might have felt.
A love-nip flashed through his mind's eye and Raito decided immediately thereafter that his authority had gone to hell.
Complications, complications, complications. That was all life was, wasn't it?
Muddled though his mind was with the morbidly depressing thoughts of possibly having a mini-death attach itself to his hip, Raito managed to hear footsteps creaking against the floorboards near the other side of the apartment. Teru was probably up and about, ready to give him a big, wet, mushy kiss on the cheek.
Fantastic.
Just what Raito needed.
More affection.
The brunette lay completely still in a riveting imitation of sleep. Sure enough, those footsteps grew closer and stopped where the archway would have been.
Raito didn't know why he hadn't expected it. If the events of the night before were any tribute to Ryuzaki's divine possessiveness, then the tense rigidity of every limb in the mini-death's body should have come as no surprise when he locked a hawk's eye on Teru. Ryuzaki began muttering to himself, detailing several methods of instantaneous death which could occur at any time, God willing, to the sickeningly innocent man. Raito rolled his eyes beneath their lids.
As Ryuzaki barked an irritated "Scram!" at the deaf ears of Mikami, Raito began to wonder for the psychopomp's rationality. Just what was he thinking to accomplish?
Teru, being numb to the mini-death's jeers and jests, sighed wistfully before tip-toeing into the kitchen. As soon as his not-boyfriend was safely out of sight, Raito ventured a pinch at Ryuzaki's arm from beneath the blankets.
A twitch of the mini-death's foot and a pained withdrawal of his arm was all to signal Raito of his triumph. He grinned to himself, satisfied, and settled back into a more comfortable position. Ryuzaki, however, seemed generally at a loss for what to do. Raito's internal victory march slowed when he noticed how waves of genuine alarm were radiating from the mini-death's direction. A moment's hesitation yielded a sensation from Raito's nightmares.
Ryuzaki leaned in and bit down on the back of Raito's neck.
Hard.
The brunette couldn't pacify the yelp which left his lips, nor the instantaneous spasm of his entire body. He held his breath and frantically shoved against the back of the sofa in an attempt to escape, catching one of Ryuzaki's legs along the way. The mini-death held on, persistent though he was, and dug his nails into Raito's shirt.
Jesus H. Christ!
It was just a pinch!
Raito realized halfway into his decision to kick his legs out with all of his might that Teru would undoubtedly find the sudden struggling noise in the living room to be odd. Though he couldn't ignore the piercing feeling of Ryuzaki's fangs and claws, he tried his best to fight with as little movement as possible. Raito twisted onto his back in an attempt to wrench the mini-death's teeth out of his neck, but to no avail. Ryuzaki melted through the couch cushions and hung on like a fish hook.
After failing two other attempts to pry him off, Raito gave in to necessity and muttered, "Get off."
It took Ryuzaki a few seconds to react, but the stabbing feeling of teeth and nails vanished. Raito rolled off of the couch, dragging half a ton of blankets down with him, and lay with his back to the floor. The brunette pawed at the back of his neck painfully and winced when he felt how tender it was. Experimentally, he lifted his shirt to the level of his ribs and examined the mini-death's handiwork. Red streaks marked the grip Ryuzaki had through his shirt.
Gritting his teeth angrily, Raito glared up at the mini-death. What a bastard! It was just a fucking pinch! And there the idiot was, sitting there with those dumb eyes, hair and jeans all messed up, looking for all the world like he had no idea what just happened.
"What the fuck was that for?" Raito hissed under his breath.
Ryuzaki blinked his dinner plate eyes in stupid confusion and stared at his arm. "You… pinched me," he managed, trailing off mid-sentence.
Yes, AND? Why the hell did he have to bite him, for fuck's sake? "You bit me!" Raito shrieked in a whisper.
"Yes… I suppose I did," Ryuzaki remarked.
"WHY?" hissed Raito.
The mini-death adopted his thinking pose, perched on his toes with his knees drawn into his chest. He slipped his thumbnail between his teeth and gnawed. After that, he raised his free hand into the air and said, "It's red."
Raito quirked an eyebrow and located the spot where he'd pinched Ryuzaki. He scoffed, "That's supposed to happen, dumbass!"
"It is…" murmured Ryuzaki, drawing his arm into his line of sight and looking it over and over.
While Ryuzaki reflected on the state of his poor little arm, Raito decided to make his complaints quietly known. "How red do you think my neck is?" he spat, jabbing a finger at the offending area.
The mini-death didn't reply. He merely crouched in his curl of perpetual thought and regarded that same spot on his arm as if perplexed by its existence. Raito watched this procession of events in exasperation, trying in vain to cool his nerves down. The dull throb in his ribs and down his spine was difficult to ignore.
"Raito-kun," Ryuzaki grumbled halfheartedly, "This is bad…"
Raito squinted balefully at him and growled, "Why?"
Yet, all Ryuzaki would offer him was, "This is bad, Raito-kun, this is bad…"
----
This was bad.
This was not supposed to happen. It was against the rules.
When Raito pinched him, L's initial reaction had been anger. After a split second of consideration, however, it donned on him that Raito was not supposed to be able to do that. He was not supposed to be able to intentionally hurt L. When he raised his hand with the intention of bothering the mini-death, his fingers should have connected with nothing. Nothing but the blanket. The sheet should have gone straight through L and all Raito should have gotten for his trouble was a cold sting.
No.
And then, L had to experiment. Curiously, he lashed out at Raito and bit him with the purpose of causing him pain.
It worked.
Raito was angry, Raito had kicked him and elbowed him too many times to count, and now both he and L had welts.
This was bad.
Not supposed to happen.
Against the rules.
In his stunned surprise, L had forgotten how to let go of Raito.
Forgotten how. The common sense of it all just flew happily away.
In an attempt to save Raito's neck from being torn apart, he tightened his hold around the brunette's midsection to keep him from jerking around and hoped for his confounded memory to float back to him.
When Raito finally stopped fighting him and gave him time to think, L let him go.
Then there was the anger.
The whispered shouts.
The resentment.
L couldn't blame him. It must've hurt. Still, he couldn't understand why the sudden change had occurred. Perhaps this was another step in becoming human. Step two it was, directly after becoming addicted to food. Maybe. L didn't know for sure. He heard that becoming human was achieved in a flash. One minute, a psychopomp was immune to all physical things, and the next he was dependant on food, warmth, and people.
Perhaps the process was more complicated than L imagined.
At that instant, the Mortal-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named tentatively pussyfooted into the living room. He smiled in disgusting radiance and greeted, "Good morning."
Raito blinked once, then drew a quilt about his shoulders and offered a subtly panicked, "Morning."
"How did you sleep last night?"
"Pretty well," Raito offered distractedly, "Your blankets work wonders."
The sickeningly innocent nerd's smile broadened with a smug, "I know."
In an attempt to appear normal and calm his nerves, Raito asked, "So how was your night?"
"Well…" Teru drew out, "It's a good thing my room isn't as cold as the living room." He would say nothing more.
As Raito was left to roll his eyes and fidget, L realized just how unnerved he was. Raito Yagami didn't fidget. Chances were that he wanted to race to the nearest mirror and assess the damage done to his neck. Hauling his good intentions around like a lead weight, L oozed into the kitchen and knocked a pan onto the floor.
The Mortal-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named yelped, "I'll be right back!"
"I'll be in the bathroom," Raito shouted back and L wafted back through the wall with the intention of following him. He emerged just in time to see a mop of brunette hair drowned in blankets and oversized pajamas flop through a doorway at the end of the hall. L dutifully floated after him, taking time to consider what few doorways lay within the hall. He came to the bathroom door and, quietly and courteously, knocked his knuckles once against the door.
He didn't need a meek 'may I come in' or a humble 'excuse me.' Raito already knew exactly who was rapping and tapping at his chamber door and, unlike Poe, was probably hell-bent on strangling the offending raven to death. "Get your ass in here," he snarled.
L whistled to himself, thoroughly convinced that he was going to have the most thrillingly horrible time of his life, and poked his head through the door. There Raito was, hand-mirror between his fingers, sweeping the hair away from his neck and goggling in the wall-mirror at the replica of Mars which now glowed happily from his back.
"Oh dear me," said L.
He soon found himself on the receiving end of a glare that would have melted steel. The mini-death quickly jabbed a thumb between his teeth and nibbled. Raito had nothing to offer him but that flat, low glare and a noisy rhythm of infuriated breaths.
"I apologize?" L stated experimentally, walking into the room and waiting on the tile floor.
"This-" Raito jabbed a nail at Jupiter's Red Spot- "is not okay."
"I-" L muttered gravely- "am terribly sorry."
"You-" the mortal sneered and gritted his teeth- "are a sonofabitch."
L wanted to move on and explain to Raito his reasons for being such a sonofabitch. He inclined his head and scratched one foot with the toes of the other, "Yes. I know."
"I'm tying you into a very punchable burlap bag later," Raito warned resolutely, "and I'm beating you to death."
"You know, I can just walk out of-"
"No. No, you can't."
L blinked twice, uncaringly, and blew a puff of air at his bangs. When Raito was punishing crime, he was good.
But there were certain times when he got angry that Raito became evil.
And he. Could. Not. Be. Defeated.
L let the argument slide with the grudging inclination to become Raito's punching bag if it would make him feel better. The unconquerable brunette nodded swiftly as if he'd expected the answer all along, and then set about glaring into the mirror and groaning in spontaneous, unspeakable agony.
L whistled once to himself, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked out the door. Raito would go about his business, whatever whining that might entail, and the mini-death would wander about the apartment until he was needed. Out of courtesy, which was the only nicety he would allow Tall, Dark, and Geeky, he refrained from passing through what few closed doors he saw.
Bored quickly with the white walls and fluffy carpet, L dipped forward and flew across the living room, lodging himself halfway into the kitchen wall. He ignored the electrical work and peeked straight through Mikami's kitchen tile. The offending mortal was blissfully heating frozen pastries in the toaster L had threatened him with.
Hah. Frozen pastries. The idiot probably couldn't cook to save his puny, miserable life. Mutter… mutter…
L could cook. Well, he didn't know this for a fact, but he'd observed enough food to understand the process. How difficult could it be?
Two pastries saw themselves to the counter before Raito poked his sunshine-and-rainbows countenance around the kitchen door. "Smells good," he remarked with a smile.
'Smells good!' mouthed L.
Disgusting…
The psychopomp noticed without surprise that Raito had chosen a lavishly knit afghan to wrap around his shoulders like a hairy, forest-green weasel. L couldn't complain much. Green was Raito's color, though he could have done without the fuzz. It went nicely with the previous day's clothes.
L watched and wrung his hands in his hair as Raito and that goddamn love-snatcher shared a heartwarming conversation over a pair of heated, imitation bakery goods. Raito, surprisingly, was the one who brought up the interview the other mortal was supposed to be giving him, and Mikami waved it off, saying that the last thing Raito needed was an interrogation. Perhaps they'd meet another time.
L couldn't wait.
When Raito finally decided he had to leave, he waltzed to the door, Mikami and afghan in tow, and stood with his back to it. He begged to help Mikami fold his blankets and set them somewhere else, but the dark-haired mortal would have none of it. Being time for him to leave, Raito tossed the afghan somewhere in the room, kept his back to the door, and allowed Mikami a deeper kiss than the one before.
This was where L left the room. He shut his eyes, shoved his index fingers into his ears, and sang Croatia's national anthem as he sailed into the hallway.
Raito skillfully backed out the door half a minute later, looking quite satisfied with himself, and L frankly lost the urge to live.
As soon as the door was safely shut, Raito spryly sashayed down the hall and awarded L a puckish grin as he passed. The mini-death only blew a puff of air at his bangs. Raito knew L hated it when he paraded his saucy attitude like a colorful, epilepsy-inducing flag. L knew he knew. The sprightly mortal continued indulging in such acts only for the purpose of getting a rise out of his stoic mini-death friend.
It was working, goddammit.
L thought about giving the mortal the cold shoulder, but Raito already knew how the mini-death disliked his antics. Pretending L didn't care was useless as of now.
Instead of vocalizing his inner muses, the panda-eyed psychopomp wearily plodded about after his charge. He fell into step with Raito halfway down the stairs to the second floor. Neither of them said a word, but the brunette's expression had changed to something more bored and mundane. This was a change L decided he liked.
Raito wandered down the steps and marched heroically out the apartment complex's small glass door. Once he was on the street, the brunette remarked with a casual appraisal of his fingertips, "Please, by all means, leave more of those marks everywhere. They do so much for my complexion."
L knew a snide comment when he heard one, and would not award Raito the pleasure of listening to an apology. Instead, "I agree," was all he said.
The brunette flashed his amber eyes dangerously, warning L of the things to come if he insisted on acting the way he did. This was tragic, as L had no intention of letting up.
He didn't want to creep Raito out, but the fact that Raito hadn't completely lashed out at him suggested that the brunette wasn't quite as deeply shaken as L previously assumed. He was annoyed, yes, but not skittish. Therefore, L straightened his sweater and his posture and remarked, "It's a very pretty red spot. I could give you more if you want."
A queer backward glance was his response, to which L grinned accommodatingly and spun his hair into a twist. Raito shook his head slightly and scorned him with a bland 'Keh' before resuming his previous stride and flipping his bangs out of his face like a Pantene commercial.
Ah, good.
L could almost jump for joy. There Raito was, sporting a huge bite-mark on the back of his neck, tossing his hair around like he couldn't care less.
Couldn't care… oh my.
The mini-death held in his excitement and curiosity until he and Raito entered a less-crowded section of town. He checked right and left for Raye Penber and found him dutifully following his target as if he knew Raito's location all along. Interesting…
"He's here again," announced L.
Raito offered him a nod in return and decided on a whim to cross the threshold of the electronics store he'd been eyeing the other day. The small shop was fairly quiet, with the exception of a few LCD television sets advertising themselves along the back left wall of the shop. The single visible employee stretched a gap-toothed smile at him and waved an amiable hello. Raito, polite little princess that he was, smiled back. There were two other shoppers beside himself and L, the mini-death observed. If the one employee was distracted enough…
L impishly abandoned Raito once the mortal went doe-eyed over an expensive digital camera. He crawled along the wall until he arrived at the pow-wow of televisions. Quietly and unassumingly, he rearranged the wiring in one speaker to make it infinitely louder and fuzzier than the other. This attracted the predictable attention of the employee, who skittered over to the corner and began the unrelenting task of locating the problem. L was satisfied in his work and glided back over to Raito. The mortal cast him a withering glare before fawning once again over a piece of chromed technology.
L looked to the left… L looked to the right… L glared through the windows…
No one was looking.
With that affirmation, the mini-death lost his mind and pulled Raito backward in a hug. The mortal stiffened, as L expected, and then relaxed and snorted as if the mini-death's gesture didn't unnerve him in the slightest. "Ryuzaki," he warned quietly, "stop making a fool of yourself." The tone in which this line was delivered would suggest to any listener that Raito was quite bored with L. L, however, knew this to be untrue. The fluttering of the brunette's blood was more than enough to give him away.
L instantly released him, much to Raito's apparent confusion, fell down on the ground, curled his knees into his chest, and rolled gleefully about on the floor.
Hah!
L was right!
There was hope for him after all!
Whether he knew it or not, Raito was utilizing a classic method of push-away-but-not-all-the-way. He was turning his proverbial back with a nose to the stars… while glancing over his shoulder to see if L was still following. The mini-death was certain Raito would refuse to refer to it as thus, but it was thus:
Raito was flirting.
Out of the courtesy of his soul, L flirted back.
----
Raito rubbed at the mark on the back of his neck. He glared at the infernal mini-death cart-wheeling at his heels. The incident at the appliance shop was three blocks behind him, but the oddity of the ordeal still hovered dankly about him in a nebula of mischief.
What on earth was Ryuzaki flipping out about? Honestly.
Raito rolled his eyes and decided to postpone the inevitable meeting with his father by ducking into a dimly lit café. Once the glass-paned door clattered shut behind him, he noticed in vague annoyance that the cheery, red-painted sign outside the window had been terribly misleading. Not only was the café barely lit, but it was also more of a bar, if anything.
Glasses of all manner of sizes, diameters, and colors lined the shelf behind the bar. The red barstools were mediocrely kept, sporting the occasional rip in the fake leather. There were a few strangely-dressed men playing banged-up arcade games in a corner.
The wood flooring was gummy, the air was cool, and for the time of day, the building was well-loved. Patrons of all shapes and sizes hacked their cigarette smoke and enjoyed a shot of whatever was on tap at the time.
Legally speaking, Raito was underage. Young, if you would. Ah, but the rules never stopped Raito before! Perhaps he could trick the dribble-eyed bartender into tossing him a shot or two.
He ignored the curious eyes of the more haggard and aged crowd. Raito simply marched up to the bar, picked a seat, and settled there. Ryuzaki adopted his classic crouch on the vacant barstool next to him and ran an abused thumb along his lips. "This is illegal," he remarked.
Raito radiated a triumphant grin which silently stated that yes, he already knew that, and yes, he was quite used to breaking the law as of late.
The bartender shuffled amiably in his direction. She was one of those mid-twenties women, in the prime of her life, who looked as if her body were made of memory foam. Lewdly put, she had curves. Her lips looked as if they'd absorbed the many coats of gloss she was wearing and her chest pushed out of her shirt like a pair of pom-poms. She waddled over with her hands to her sides like a big-legged penguin and asked, "What can I do for ya', hun?"
"Run a mile for me, perhaps," grumbled Ryuzaki.
Not in the mood to be creative, Raito offhandedly inquired as to the availability of a glass of Kirin Ichiban.
To this, she calmly and perkily asked for a form of ID.
Which he had no intention of showing her.
Raito noticed his stalker hovering about on a bench across the street and decided that he needed to make his life as scandalous as he could. That taken into account, he remarked that he left his ID at home.
She- Raito noticed her name to be Tsubaki- amiably replied that she refused to serve alcohol to minors.
Well, damn.
Raito sighed at her and she left. Hmm… what to do, what to do.
Then, he remembered the incident on the bus and a thought occurred to him that would send the world reeling. Raito's eyes narrowed and he couldn't stop the grin on his face from spreading.
Raito got a beautifully, gloriously evil idea.
The brunette recalled the woman's first and last name. Now if he could only get the names of any other people in the room…
"Hey you," Raito pointed rudely and curiously at the old man struggling with his cigarette. The man squinted at him through his bleary, black eyes and said nothing. Encouraged, Raito continued his barrage. "What's your name? I think I've seen you somewhere before…"
The old man cracked a yellow grin and muttered, "Really? Well I ain't seen no boys like you."
Rats. Raito went for the throat again. "No, seriously. What's your name?"
The man chewed slowly on his cigarette, calculating Raito's features through his watery eyes. He hacked up another cluster of clouds before admitting, "Daichi Enoki. What's it to ya'?"
The brunette held a well-attended war-dance in his head while maintaining a look of deep thought. "I can't remember… but I know I've seen you somewhere…"
"Too bad," coughed the man, clearly annoyed with Raito's prying.
Hah. Score one for Raito.
Kira: one. Public: zip.
Raito settled back into his seat at the bar. The bartender cast numerous, fishy glances at him and asked him to leave. The brunette sighed and pled, "Just one more minute and I'm gone."
One more minute was all he needed to imagine Daichi walking up to Tsubaki on the street and snatching her purse. The angry woman would jump in her car and charge down the street after him like the cow that she was, catch up to him after he slipped and fell over a curb, and crush him beneath her wheels. The incident would be documented, Tsubaki would be tried for vehicular homicide, and she would go to jail two Mondays from the present. One week would pass, and on Tuesday, at exactly ten fifty two in the morning, she would die of a heart attack.
But not before apologetically handing Raito a nice, tall glass of Japanese beer.
A snap sealed her fate and Raito glanced gleefully at Ryuzaki. The blank, harried look on the mini-death's face suggested that he had caught wind of the thoughts whirring through Raito's head.
What did Raito care for Ryuzaki's disapproval?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
After all, the bartender was waddling slowly in his direction with a fizzing, golden glass. Raito pretended to be surprised when the clanking of ice and crystal was dropped onto the counter. He blinked up into her round, yellow face. Tsubaki's glittering eyes held an expression akin to guilt and her rich voice resounded from her throat. "Sorry, sir," she sighed, "I shouldn'a put you through so much trouble."
Heh.
Bingo.
"Well… thank you," Raito mimicked astonishment and curled his fingers around the fat beer glass. The bartender, being distracted and short of words, trotted silently back to the other end of the bar. The brunette tipped his glass to his lips and sipped at the sour, bitter froth floating at the top of his drink. A satisfactory smack of the lips was all to signify any audience that he found the burning trail the beer blazed down his throat to be one of life's greater pleasures.
"I must be God," hummed Raito.
"You're the devil," deadpanned Ryuzaki.
Raito only smiled.
Nothing more was exchanged between the two of them until Raito set the glass down on a few bills and waltzed regally into the light. The brunette was going to kill Tsubaki, after all. He might as well have left her some sympathy cash.
"If you don't mind my saying so, Raito-kun," remarked an intelligent voice from behind, "you're evil."
"Delightfully evil," corrected Raito playfully. He was in a good mood and he would be damned if Ryuzaki ruined it for him. Offhandedly, Raito checked his peripheral vision and saw that his stalker was still following. He'd probably seen everything.
As Raito had planned. What a risqué life he was leading. Wouldn't it be divine if A and W saw him as a classic, secretive, disturbed genius? He was safe, as Raye couldn't possibly have seen Tsubaki's face through the glare and gloom on either side of the bar's windows.
Wait.
What was Raye doing still following him after yesterday?
Wouldn't the FBI pull him out of the city for making direct contact with his target? Hmm… Raito would have to hack his father's network and see for himself.
Suddenly, the loud roar of an engine was heard.
And the street went dead silent.
Raito recalled a familiar scene from the day before. A car had come from nowhere, revved its engine, and enveloped the street into a silent spell. A curious bystander, he stopped mid-step to locate a glowing red Mustang rocketing down the uneven pavement.
What the hell?
Raito leaned in and squinted queerly at it. As the car flashed past in a hurricane of exhaust and chrome, he identified the driver to be a man, probably his age, with dusty leather-colored hair and ski-goggles. He held one smoldering cigarette loosely from his lips.
As soon as the machine and its lone ranger galloped into the sunset, Raito turned to the nearest bystander and asked what on earth just happened. The balding man only shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Frustrated, Raito glared at Ryuzaki. The mini-death muttered, "Have a look around you," and pointed disinterestedly at a hyperventilating red-haired man clad in a stereotypical ensemble of Hawaiian-print shirt and khaki pants. He clasped a digital camera between his pudgy sausage fingers.
Raito clicked his tongue and decided that the man was as good an observer as any. He walked over to the nameless tourist, who appeared so excited that he might have fallen to pieces at any moment.
"Excuse me, sir," Raito asked politely, "but what was that just now?"
The man stopped breathing for a moment. He set wide, green eyes on Raito and stuttered his broken Japanese in a fantastic old-country accent. If it pleased Raito to translate anything the man said into his native tongue, he fancied it would have sounded something like this: "You mean, you ain't seen it?"
"Umm…" drawled Raito, "no."
"That there Mustang's witched!"
Raito furrowed his eyebrows at odd angles and deadpanned, "You mean like 'haunted?'"
"Like haunted!" the tourist gesticulated with a spasmodic display of jazz-hands.
Raito's shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "What?" was all he could say.
"Ever' day, 'bout this time, that Ghost Horse comes ramblin' down the road, all a-buckin' and a-kickin'. Ain't nobody drivin' that hell-damned thang. Jes' drives hisself!"
"Pardon me, sir," Raito scoffed politely, "But there was definitely someone driving it."
And there had been.
Raito saw him, cigarette and all.
The man's pudgy, county-fair-first-prize swine face wrinkled into a very pink scowl. "You callin' me a liar?" he roared.
Raito eased his hands in front of his face in an attempt to pacify the perspiring pork-roast before him. "No, no," he whistled, "There's just no way a car can drive itself."
"Can if it's haunted!" the man pressed. Suddenly, he invaded Raito's personal space and hooked the brunette's arm in the crook of his own. Alarmed, Raito was dragged awkwardly along as the man sifted through the pictures on his digital camera. "Now see here," the man puffed, indicating the camera screen, "This here's a picture I took last week.
Raito was honestly astonished to see that there was, indeed, absolutely no one in the driver's seat of the car. But he swore…
Ryuzaki had sensed his surprise and came dutifully to his aid, opting mischievously to perch upon Raito's back and look over his shoulder. Raito didn't mind. The mini-death weighed nothing anyway.
"Now this here's from yesterday," the tourist went on, still imprisoning Raito in his vice-grip. Raito squinted at the screen to notice that, once again, the shiny, red car was vacant.
The man clicked a button one last time and puffed, "Now here's today."
Same Mustang. Same color. No driver.
Raito was honestly perplexed.
Every muscle in the tourist's body seemed to strain with the enormous grin twisting his face. As he babbled something about, "I told you so," Raito set to thinking about whether or not he was completely insane.
So he saw the man with the cigarette, but no one else did? Hm. This could mean one of two things. Either Raito had flown completely off of his rocker, or…
Ryuzaki wasn't alone.
Yet, from what Raito understood, god-lings of death like Ryuzaki were only allotted a specific amount of time in the human world. If this one was driving a Mustang down the same street each day, then he must have been there for a while.
Hmm…
Raito thanked the tourist for his- 'cough-' enthusiasm- 'cough' and set one foot in front of the other in order to walk to a home he didn't want to see. His father was probably still angry.
"So," Ryuzaki piped up suddenly, "You could see this person and no one else could?" He was obviously referring to the perplexing paradox which occurred a minute before. Raito cast him a skeptical look and muttered, "Yeah. You recognize him?"
"No," the mini-death grumbled, "but I saw him as well. I take it you know what this means, yes?"
"So I think, but I hope not."
Ryuzaki's porcupine hair flattened dangerously and he growled, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing," deadpanned Raito offhandedly.
Another psychopomp. Not only was the possibility another infringement on his privacy, but he also wondered at its purpose for being there. Beings like Ryuzaki had a tight schedule, though Raito supposed the mini-death's extended stay with him warranted the eye of a higher-up. If Ryuzaki could stay for the amount of time that he had, then a new mini-death could certainly take his time in Tokyo.
Raito called on his lucky stars to prevent a confrontation with yet another setback, be it more ethereal baggage or not.
He did not need another mini-death following him around.
Raito hopped on the nearest bus, yet he shouldn't have been surprised that his stalker refused to follow him. He wanted to maintain as low a profile as he could.
Ryuzaki more than made up for his oppressive presence, however. The panda-man circled Raito's back like a vulture before perching on the back of the seat and nudging an annoying foot into Raito's side. The brunette glanced casually about him before gripping the leg to which Ryuzaki's foot was attached and shoving it away. Much to his entertainment, the mini-death yelped and lost his balance, falling through the seat next to him.
Raito swiped his hands across one another in satisfaction before settling back into his seat.
If Ryuzaki wasn't willing to relinquish his childish infatuation, then Raito was going to have a fun time avoiding it. If the mini-death insisted on being clingy and physical, Raito would insist on boredly shoving him off.
Besides, it was fun to watch him bounce back.
Speaking of which, the mini-death was curled around Raito's shoes and had since started gnawing fiendishly on their soles. The brunette casually sighed, cast Ryuzaki a devil-may-care eye, and kicked his legs out. The mini-death judged Raito's strength well as he held fast to the brunette's feet.
Raito quickly assessed the situation and how much force would be required to kick the mini-death away. The brunette rolled his eyes and leaned back. He didn't feel that energetic.
His stop came and he managed to shoot Ryuzaki a glare that liberated both feet. Raito billowed out of the bus like a monarch and marched away with his head held high. Ryuzaki, as ever, was at his heels.
Raito ignored him as he neared his own block. His father would undoubtedly be pacing back and forth in front of the widescreen television, wearing darker the pace-path that was already there. He probably would have called everyone he knew: Aizawa, Mogi, even Matsuda. Who knew? Maybe there were policemen searching all over town.
Hah.
Yeah.
A nervous feeling settled in the pit of Raito's stomach and he silently willed the rhinos out of his gut. Why was he so anxious? He hadn't accomplished any actions of disobedience this serious before, but he had made his father angry. He knew how angry his father got about small issues, so perhaps that was why he was so nervous.
"Heh," Raito laughed, slightly unnerved, "he's going to kill me."
"Not 'kill' you," interjected Ryuzaki, "lock you in your room for months at a time."
"Thank you, Ryuzaki," Raito grumbled, "I feel much better now."
"Glad I could help," the mini-death replied in a sneer.
As Raito rounded the corner that brought him even with his front door, a multitude of interesting events occurred.
Firstly, Raito noticed the amount of vehicles parked on either curb of the extremely narrow street. This, Raito found extremely intriguing, as no one ever parked their cars on the curb. Were they the cars of his closest friends? Investigators? Unmarked police cars? His father wouldn't need so many units to track him down when the stalker he and A and W hired was tracking his every move. By all means, they should have known Raito's not-boyfriend's name, number, address, and favorite color.
Secondly, Raito observed the way the door to his house was being thrust open. Emerging from the door was Ukita, widow's peak glimmering in the sun. An unappealing vein popped from his forehead as it was sometimes famed to do. Second from the door was Aizawa, his peculiar afro billowing in the wind like the canopy of a tree. Matsuda was halfway out the door when, through some horrible tragedy of nature, his childish black eyes and Raito's own amber ones collided and stopped.
The third notable thing that Raito observed in that short amount of time was Matsuda's overjoyed squeal. Mogi lurched from behind the door and blinked his beady eyes, Aizawa spun on his heels, and Ukita glared stupidly from beyond his shoulder.
The fourth and most important occurrence was thrust upon Raito when Soichiro suddenly burst forth from the front door and fixed his son in place with two abnormally sharp, baggy eyes.
When all four investigators lunged in his general direction and his father formed the syllables of his name, Raito prepared to deal with the situation as he saw fit. He turned a heel on the sidewalk in case he needed to retrace his steps at fifty miles an hour. Raito was strongly against flight, but in this special case, it could buy him some time until his father and his cohorts were willing to come to an amiable solution to the problem, preferably one that didn't involve being locked anywhere for any amount of time.
All five men calculated Raito's resolution to escape and relented in their deliberate march.
Soichiro huffed and puffed in the doorway. "Raito," he heaved, "come here."
----
Oh dear.
Well wasn't this a happy sight. Father reunited with son.
Only in this case, Father was very angry, possibly to the point of irrational thought, and was backed up by four other men, one of which looked especially strong, while son was left feeling generally flighty, helpless, and perhaps desperate. All in all, the variables in play were prone to violent and disagreeable interaction. L was not opposed to stepping onto a few toes or necks, whichever pleased him at the moment, in order to preserve Raito's happiness. He had a gut feeling that this action in itself would condemn Raito to eternal suspicion, having an invisible protective force, and refrained from acting in such a way while Raito was still conscious.
His father stood in the doorway, looking for all the world like an elephant in labor (and being nearly as irritable). "Raito," he demanded, "come here."
Raito opted to vocalize his opinion by remaining quiet as a church mouse beneath the gaze of a cat. He set his gorgeous golden eyes into a steely glare and affixed the soles of his shoes to the pavement.
"Raito-kun!" the man with the childish grin piped up, "We were so worried about y-"
"Raito-kun, stop fooling around," warned the one with the poofy hair.
The one with the monkey-face sighed, "Don't do anything stupid."
The brunette stood his ground, though L could tell by the calculating look in his eye that he felt threatened by the amount of people set against him.
Raito's equally-worn mother poked her head out from behind her husband and slumped in relief. "Raito-kun!" she cried, "I was so worried about you!" she marched bravely into the crowd of men and continued to worry. "Where did you go? Did anything happen?"
Raito mused for a moment before stepping back as a warning for his mother and anyone else to stay where they were. The message was well-interpreted, as the one with the afro held an arm out to keep Sachiko behind him.
L watched in amusement as Kira and the Chief of Police held an uninterrupted staring contest. Soichiro slowly moved away from the door and out into the street, the Great Wall of Investigators allowing him passage into the stalemate war zone between them and disobedient Death.
"You came back," Soichiro remarked evenly.
L knew from experience that there was no card in Kira's deck which could trump the powerful 'limping back' cliché. The brunette handled the blow well, though. "Maybe so I could pack before I left," he shot back.
"Don't be foolish, Raito," Soichiro warned with a shake of the head, "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you are coming into this house and we are going to sit down and talk about this."
L also knew from experience that Raito didn't respond well to force. "I'm not talking about anything," the brunette spurned with a shake of the head.
"You used to be such a responsible adult!" swore Soichiro, "What changed you?"
Raito jerked his head in L's direction, "Ryuzaki thinks you're an ass."
The four men surrounding Raito's mother all exchanged strange, uncomfortable looks. L felt quite proud that his existence could instill discomfort in so many people. Soichiro adopted a familiar look of exasperation and growled, "You still listen to that thing?" Then, his eyes darkened as if passing over a gloomy revelation. "Does 'Ryuzaki' tell you to disobey me like this?"
"No," remarked Raito, "I do it because I want to."
Soichiro dug his fingertips into his hairline and sighed loudly. As he paced the pavement, the outspoken afro-man flagged him down. "Chief," was the only word he uttered. Soichiro just shook his head.
Soichiro's spasmodic pacing episode ended quickly as he yelled, "So are you coming inside or not?"
"No," replied Raito.
It was at this point in time that L noticed Raito's odd affinity for arguments. Arguments were thrilling, and if the brunette's occupation of Great Death was to be admired, he enjoyed a good rush of adrenaline. That, and the mortal had taken a sudden hobby of making his life as scandalous as he could.
"Don't make me come after you," Soichiro warned softly, "Just be reasonable. Come here, and I promise I'll listen to everything you have to say."
L giggled.
Raito was similarly afflicted with the mini-death's humor. "That's too bad, because I don't want to talk to you."
Soichiro thought for a moment with his hand stressfully against his chin. "Get in the house, Raito," he demanded resolutely.
Silence.
"Raito-kun," wailed Sachiko, "please do what your father wants!"
Raito, having all the time in the world, shifted his weight to the other heel and mused. L could tell by the look in his eyes that he was neither considering his options nor considering their consequences. He probably had a song stuck in his head or something and it pleased him to think it over.
Such was the beauty of being young and invincible.
"Raito!" shouted Soichiro, "This is your last chance. You can either walk into the house like a responsible adult, or you can let Mogi and I drag you into the car and pay a visit to Lidner-san!"
Raito was instantly annoyed at the mention of his psychiatrist's name. This, L knew, because the mortal daringly began to backpedal into the perpendicular street from whence he had come. The last thing Soichiro uttered before his backup broke into a run was a slow, warning, "Raito!"
But Raito didn't care.
The brunette had vanished down the street in a flurry of auburn hair and diabolical intentions. L caught up to him, half-running, half floating beside him. He noticed the wild look in Raito's eyes and took it to heart.
Raito was no run-of-the-mill bully with a run-of-the-mill magnifying glass. Whereas he used to kill for necessity, Raito now accomplished his pastimes for the thrills. He didn't run because he needed to, he ran because he wanted to. The brunette delighted in seeing the expression on humanity's face when he defied it.
He crushed the lives of two innocent people that day, in what manner L cared not, simply because it pleased him to do so. This action was cruel and unforgivable, yes, but then again, as Kira would say, when he ruled the world, he determined right from wrong. The deaths of these humans were in no way required, but the idea appealed to Raito at the time. He was experimenting with these people because he wanted to watch half of the world squirm and the other half cheer.
He was just drawing all of the entertainment he could from any sacrifice he made.
Against his will and against his morals, L found Raito's attitude intolerable and as a result, irresistibly adorable.
Raito was halfway down a second block when a tawny compact car drove carefully, quickly, and deftly about the corner he'd passed. L informed him of it, but Raito was naturally in tune to the environment and had already found his escape route. He tore across the street and expertly leapt the fence of a nearby house. There was a small, human-sized gap between Raito's hiding place and the next house, which he shimmied through with close to no trouble. He climbed a bush to the top of the next fence and hefted himself over it.
It became apparent to L that Raito wasn't merely hopping this way and that in hopes of dodging his father's cohorts. He was very purposefully traveling in a beeline toward something. When Raito squeezed through his second narrow gap of the day, L saw where he was headed.
A small park was nestled happily between two blocks of houses. Trees sprouted here and there along with an industrial-grade swing set and a sand pit.
…L didn't like to think he knew what an odd turn Raito would be taking, but when the ambitious mortal stopped at the base of a tall, sturdy tree, the mini-death had no choice but to roll his eyes and hide his head in his hands. Raito grabbed a hold of the grooved bark and bounced off the ground a few times to test it. He then cast an intelligent eye at L and commanded, "Ryuzaki, help me climb this tree."
L had no choice in the matter, seeing that the tree was high, Raito was determined, and the investigators were hot on his trail. His only question was, "How?" to which Raito answered that L would simply sit there and let Raito step all over him.
…
Well, it would work, and L calmly told himself that living with Raito was basically like being stepped on anyway.
The mini-death let Raito climb the tree with his help, and to any outsider, it would appear that the mortal was just really handy at climbing trees. No supernatural forces involved.
So there they both were, precariously nested in the third-to-highest branch of the highest tree in the park, and Raito seemed content with the sad direction his life had taken.
"You used to be so respectable," reminisced L, "You used to listen to your father, try to be safe, study hard, and generally be quietly evil. Now here you are, pretending to be a lunatic, climbing trees, and talking to people who don't exist."
"You exist," Raito pointed out.
"Not the point," stated L.
Raito sighed tiredly. "I know how I'm acting, Ryuzaki. I know what I'm doing."
"I doubt it," hummed L.
"I can't sit back and act normal, can I?" the mortal scoffed, "I have a thought, mood, and anxiety disorder. I'm crazy. Crazy people act crazy. I can be thoughtful and decisive in private, but to my father and, apparently, the NPA, I'm sick. Besides, with my father and his subordinates preoccupied with my 'behavior,' maybe they'll be too busy to focus on anything else."
True, true, the psychotic serial killer had a point.
"But won't your family among other people notice the sudden change in your behavior?" L inquired with a thumb to his lips as a car came screeching to a halt on the street below.
Raito disregarded the question for a moment and examined the car. "Two of them have passed by already. I bet the one who found me is… Matsuda. He's the only one who'd be staring at the sky instead of the street."
L quirked an eyebrow.
A car door slammed and suddenly, the childish one scrambled over to the pavement with an exclamation of "Oh my GOD!" He fumbled in his pockets while focusing his attention eternally upward. L felt sorry for him. He'd get a nasty crick in his neck later.
"Raito-kun!" the man exclaimed, "Get down from there!"
The brunette grinned at him.
L shook his head. Not only did Raito climb the tree for escaping purposes, but L suspected that he also secretly enjoyed the microscopic size of his enemies.
"Where were we?" The brunette yawned over Matsuda's harping.
"Your family will notice your sudden change in behavior," L offered.
"Oh, right," sighed Raito. He glanced down once again on Matsuda, who was now yelling very loudly into a cell phone. He explained, "Firstly, like I said before, I have a mental disorder. The change has been slow enough to be blamed on my schizophrenia. Secondly, no one really knew the way I acted normally. I keep to myself too much. It's only because he delved into my personal life that my dad thinks I've changed."
Once again, Raito was a very realistic thinker for being a mental case.
Two more cars skidded beneath the canopy of the tree, yielding two more of Soichiro's minions: The one with the afro and the one with the widow's peak. All three men began chattering to one another, before Matsuda pointed a finger in Raito's direction and six eyes were suddenly on him.
"You're in trouble," remarked L.
Raito nodded. "I hear schizophrenic people tend to be suicidal. With any luck, I can bluff about jumping and my dad will have to reconsider."
"Not quite," L reasoned, "Once you're on the ground, all bets are off. He can withdraw whatever deals he made with you and he can put you on suicide watch."
Raito's lashes fell to a stolid half-mast and he sighed, "You really know how to drag a man down."
L managed a lewd grin.
"Why, yes, Raito-kun," he ventured brashly, "Yes I do."
Instantaneously, the mini-death found himself being slapped in the face with the back of Raito's sleeve-clad hand.
Ah… what a perfect slap. So perfect, in fact, that L felt the need to repay him with a headlock. The brunette squirmed minimally however many feet in the air, watched by his pursuers.
In this headlock, a ping of inspiration resounded through the leaves. L wrapped another arm around Raito's midriff and settled behind him, pulling him into his lap. The sudden signal of thought had come from the brunette, that much was clear, as L's mind was currently incapable of any form of coherent thought. The mist in his consciousness lifted slowly and Raito's rapid heartbeat suggested that he was about to say something insane.
"Hey Ryuzaki," mumbled Raito, "think you could give me any more marks?"
L dropped dead then and there.
----
The mini-death's blood pressure must've failed, because he went into a fantastic swoon and Raito had to concentrate on his balance just to keep the two of them on the tree branch. Ryuzaki quickly regained his composure and asked, "Weren't you angry at me because of that?"
Wasn't he?
Why would Raito want Ryuzaki to attack him?
For the scandal. Raito was doing it for the scandal. Granted, he was probably going overboard with the day's megadrama, but Raito was an opportunist and the opportunity was flying by.
"Just do it," grumbled Raito.
Oddly enough, the brunette's opportunity didn't want to participate. "I think you've put on enough makeup to convince your audience that you're a female dolphin in a clown outfit," remarked Ryuzaki. Apparently, the love-sick mini-death was having second thoughts.
Raito rolled his eyes. "Don't try that Mikami trick on me," he grumbled, knowing that the mention of the other man would send Ryuzaki into a controlled fit.
The mini-death contained himself. "I don't think Raito-kun knows what he wants."
Damn! Backed into a corner. Well… Raito supposed he could do with what little red streaks he had. He was certainly not going to leap into Ryuzaki's arms and tell him that yes, he knew what he wanted. That would be … odd.
So maybe… he would… wait until later.
On another note, Soichiro was now shouting up at him from the pavement. "Raito! Raito, what on earth are you doing?"
"Sitting in a tree!" Raito replied.
"How do you plan on getting down from there?"
Experimentally and with disregard for Ryuzaki's suspicions, Raito yelled, "Well, I could always jump."
Front doors were opening now and neighbors were poking their heads out of their homes to discern the source of the racket. Ukita was making his rounds about the doors and pacifying the inhabitants of each. Mogi, who had driven Soichiro to the scene of the crime, stood with Aizawa's phone, probably calling for the fire department or something.
The fire department.
Delicious.
Well, at least Raito was having an interesting day.
Raito's father continued yelling at him, trying to convince him that he didn't want to jump, Ryuzaki wanted him to jump (since 'Ryuzaki' had become Soichiro's common name for Raito's 'schizophrenia'), and that if he stayed put until the fire department came, everything would be alright.
The brunette abandoned Ryuzaki and assembled himself lazily against his tree branch. He draped his arms and legs around the branch and lay there, bemusedly picking at the bark, wondering why he was acting as desperate as he was.
He didn't need to be this crazy.
Yet, as he'd mentioned before, it was a good method of diverting his father's attention from Kira. Plus, if he could deal with his father's fits, he could deal with anyone's fits, A and W included. If he could keep calm in the face of a raging, overprotective father, then he could stay cool as a cucumber under any circumstance.
Wailing sirens heralding its arrival at the scene, a fire truck parked where the five investigators had left a space for it. Scurrying out of it were oddly dressed men, who from the tree looked whimsically like flowers. They all glanced up at Soichiro's command and assured Raito that they'd get him down safely.
Insanely, Raito replied that he had no intention of getting down safely, so all of them could go about their own business and leave him alone.
Soichiro was explaining something to one of the men. Judging from the measured nods of the listener, he was hearing nonsense about Raito and his dangerous mental condition.
Ryuzaki was probably right.
Raito would get locked up somewhere for a week or two. His privacy would be nonexistent.
…
Perfect.
Yes… this could work! There was no way for him to be Kira when he was under the closest surveillance all the time.
Devious thoughts came to mind and Raito felt infinitely proud that he'd gotten himself stuck in that tree. Raito discovered that he could use people to interact with other people. He could kill people with other people. Granted, this was against the morals of a peace-loving, justice-oriented deity such as himself, but Raito was willing to make exceptions. Sacrifices needed to be made before he could exact true justice again.
Besides, he knew there was a heaven. He knew there was a hell. Raito was just sending his victims from one life to the next sooner than usual.
Everything he did was justified.
In that knowledge, Kira resolved that, as long as he was under surveillance, he would force Ryuzaki to get him the names of anyone and everyone. He would then use these names to commit crimes before he killed them.
They weren't on the news.
They weren't in the paper.
These people would be nobodies.
If they were on the news, all the better for Raito. Under the amount of surveillance he would be, it would be literally impossible for his supervisors to pin their deaths on him.
It would no longer be possible for A and W to suspect him as they did.
Sure, Raito would forever be labeled as a raving lunatic for his behavior, but what god needed an earthly reputation?
As the stepladder atop the truck extended to Raito's branch, one man with a brake of stubble enveloping the lower half of his face beckoned the brunette in his general direction. Raito blew a puff of troublesome air at his bangs before deciding that the stakeout had gone to plan. He ambled agreeably over to his rescuer, but raced past him and slid expertly down the rail of the ladder.
People yelled, Soichiro sweated, and Matsuda gaped as Raito pranced regally and safely down the steps until he was caught by two firemen at the base of the ladder. Raito rolled his eyes at their 'We've got you, you're safe' mantra.
Since he was insane, he replied that he was safe the whole time and that he and Ryuzaki knew exactly what they were doing.
Raito was carefully transported to his father, who practically snatched him away and smothered him in anxious care. The brunette was asked if he was hurt. He replied that he was fine.
Not long after, he was being shoved in the back of a car with his father, while Mogi raced the both of them directly to Halle's office. "We're going to get this fixed," Soichiro muttered, "This can be fixed. No more hallucinations, no more things telling you what to do, and no more Ryuzaki."
In the unoccupied front passenger seat, Ryuzaki stuck his tongue out.
After Raito's paranoid father was done blabbering to himself, he punched his home phone number into the cell-phone in his hand. "I've got him," Soichiro mumbled, referring to his son, "In a tree. No, no, he's fine. Yes. We're taking him to the psychiatrist's. I don't care how much it costs me, he's getting therapy, drugs, everything. We went over this, Sachiko. It could help."
Oh yes… drugs fixed EVERYTHING.
Raito rolled his eyes and sighed.
Such was the price of being an enthusiastic lunatic. Drugs, therapy, surveillance. Oh well. He could stand it. After all, the more attention he got, the more likely A and W would see that he was just a schizophrenic teenager, not Kira.
Well, if Ryuzaki decided to cooperate.
Which he would.
Raito would manipulate any mediums possible to control the mini-death like a coon-eyed marionette. Ryuzaki had too many visible weak points for the brunette to take a stab at.
It was like playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey. You couldn't miss.
The entire board was an ass.
Hah hah.
Puns…
In sharp contrast to the rigid, agitated form of one Soichiro Yagami, Raito relaxed in his seat and reasoned that divinity was on his side. The day had gone perfectly. Once this fiasco cooled down and his father's blood pressure sank slightly, Kira could enjoy the peace of mind that only reassurance of innocence could bring.
If, by some cruel twist of fate, Raito's decision proved wrong, he could simply treat his outburst as an anger-triggered lapse.
The brunette grinned and shut his eyes.
He'd be out of A and W's claws forever.
----
Chibi Raito: I'm- EMMA! Not supposed to be- EMMA! This emotional- EMMA!
Me: Let's face it. If you were more expressive in the original story, your nemesis would have had no grounds to suspect you. I'm offering you a new, less stressful path in life.
Chibi L: Nemesis? –hides-
Chibi Raito: You've gotta' be- EMMA! Kidding me!
Chibi Misa: EMMA!
Me: Wow. It really is contagious…
Chibi Misa: Naw. I just didn't want Raito to feel alone.
Chibi Raito: Bitch- EMMA!
Chibi Misa: Love it? Hate it? Want a toilet made of gold? The world is cruel, but you can review and let Swirl know just how much you care!
Me: Cookies for your trouble!
Chibi Misa: You've read it, now review it! Review, review, review!