DS
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D S 15
Raito hissed, "You knew Mello?"
The voice chuckled, "Very well, actually, but my time is near and alas, I have no more quarters. Perhaps we'll meet face to face sometime, but for now, ciao. Hasta la vista. All that jazz."
"Wait!" the brunette demanded.
No one replied.
----
L could tell that Raito was in a deliberately foul mood. He sat there in Halle's office, looking for all the world like he wanted nothing more than a bullet to the head. L knew that none of this was true, but Raito looked the part nonetheless. He scowled viciously at both his father and Halle, or in their general direction, since they were both speaking beyond the privacy of a closed office door. L had been commissioned to eavesdrop on their conversation, and it wasn't one that the brunette was going to like.
"The side effects of his medication are naturally unfavorable. Your son's case is no more extraordinary than any other. If our therapeutic discussions make no progress and he refuses to take his medication, then the only other option I can suggest is a mental hospital," sighed Halle.
"A mental institution?" Soichiro barked incredulously. "How do you think my son, my beautiful, intelligent boy, would cope with such a… disgrace?" His arms arced furiously through the air as he stomped about the room. "He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself," Soichiro assured himself anxiously, "He can deal with this on his own if he wants to."
"He could hurt himself," insisted Halle urgently. "In my professional opinion, an individual in this stage of illness should be kept away from harm. Do you want your son to climb a tree again, Yagami-san?"
"No," Raito's father grumbled and smoothed his graying hair, "but he won't do it again. He's a reasonable boy."
"He didn't act very reasonable when he ran away those several times, did he?" Halle inquired flatly. L could tell that she was quite secure in her professional opinion. Chances were, since A and W couldn't catch him, they wanted their prime suspect confined in a controlled area. L was confident, however, that Raito's headstrong father wouldn't give him up so easily.
"What's done is done," Soichiro raved, "and I will not have my son taken away from me. Do you know how devastated he would be? You would take his family away from him. You'd steal his education, his social life, his freedom… I will not allow you to do that to my child!" The enraged Yagami punctuated his resolve with a slam of both fists on Halle's office desk.
The blonde sat passively on her rolling chair, oblivious to Soichiro's rage.
"Yagami-san, I can see no other alternative-"
"Let me talk to him," the anxious Yagami interrupted, "Maybe I can change his mind. Maybe he'll start taking his medication again…"
Halle calmly folded her hands beneath her chin and nodded. "Perhaps he will. Why don't you go talk to him?"
Quickly, L leapt off of the wall and reported his findings to Raito, who appeared less than physically mortified. His back stiffened and his jaw set, but that was the extent of his reaction. By the time Soichiro pussy-footed out the door, Raito relaxed completely.
"Raito," his father began, "Lidner-san and I have been talking."
"I heard," the mortal remarked dryly.
Soichiro ignored the snide comment and continued, "She says that unless you take your medication, she will have to send you to a mental hospital."
Raito set his jaw again and took a deep breath. "A mental hospital," he remarked after a moment of frigid silence. Soichiro nodded.
"Damned if I'm going to a mental hospital," the brunette growled. "So there's… nothing else? No other medications? None that won't make me feel like shit?"
"Raito," Soichiro frowned at his son's foul language.
"Dad," the brunette growled in retaliation, "I couldn't focus when I was on those pills. I couldn't read, I couldn't sleep… nothing. How am I supposed to do well in school when I'm doped up on those things?"
"I don't know, Raito. Maybe we…" he stuttered, "Maybe I should take you out of school."
"No," refused Raito.
"You don't need to attend a university. You're already intelligent enough to join the police force. It would be an easy part-time job, I could teach you everything I know…"
"No." Raito refused a second time.
L grew bored of hovering at the epicenter of Raito's drama. He located his usual spot on the ceiling and sat there, criss-cross, generally bored.
Halle emerged from her lair. She stroked a lock of hair between her thumb and index finger and observed the verbal exchange. Since she was so quiet and dignified, L knew she had something to say.
The brunette noticed her out of the corner of his eye and halted the argument with his father. He cast her a steely, accusing glare. Halle sighed. "Yagami-kun, I have a proposition for you."
"No mental institutions," Raito insisted.
"Not if you listen," Halle agreed. She took her standard place at the arm chair. "I can change your medication, but you must agree to take it."
Raito sat silently on the couch, weighing his options. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he allowed Halle to continue with her explanation. She detailed each drug's pros and cons, making a special point to uncover the potentially life-threatening side effects of each. She explained that if Raito took one drug, he couldn't do this. If Raito took another, he couldn't do that. If he took this one, he'd be nauseous for a few weeks. If she prescribed that one, he would lose most of his energy during the day. She also referred repetitively to his current medication, which, apparently, he hadn't taken enough time to get used to. According to Halle, the more violent symptoms of his medication would have subsided had he taken it regularly.
Raito's bored, hopeless sigh informed L of the tragedy of the situation. The brunette vehemently disagreed with being sent away, and yet he hated his drugs, perhaps fearing that the shinigami would use them to kill him. L sympathized and agreed. Having strong prescription medications in his house was the equivalent of sleeping in a lion's den. Then again, considering a death note, Raito could be murdered by anything. The ceiling could come crashing down on him. He could spontaneously catch fire. He could be gnawed to death by mutated sewer rats. The brunette was walking on shards of glass, and perhaps he was more ignorant of it than L had hoped.
"Continue taking the medication you've been prescribed," L advised. "You're in no less danger if it is gone. You can be killed by anything, you know."
As Soichiro engaged Halle in another loud conversation, Raito leered at L from the corner of his eye.
"I advise that you change nothing," L continued, "in the knowledge that you've already familiarized yourself with the worst your medication has to offer. Unexpected surprises await should you change your prescription."
Raito's leer simmered into a flat glare and his jaw slid horizontally in an annoyed manner. His eyes snapped back to the war zone between his father and his shrink and he barked, "Alright!" When he had the attention of both Halle and his father, he sighed, "If there's no other way, I'll keep my medication."
"You will?" Halle asked, looking genuinely surprised.
"Yeah," Raito sighed, keeping a level eye with the blonde woman. "Maybe if I take it long enough, the side effects will go away like you said."
Halle calculated his words before shifting her weight to the other hip and saying, "You're sure?"
"Yes," Raito nodded, "I'm sure." Then to his father, guiltily, "I don't want to be any more trouble. I promise I won't quit this time."
Soichiro said nothing.
----
Horrors, Raito's mind remarked with an airy smile.
Horrors, horrors, horrors.
He sat in the car, leaning on his seatbelt with Ryuzaki seated comfortably against his side. The brunette stared into the window, focusing on the glowing edge of the driver's seat as Tokyo's downtown architecture rolled steadily by.
Raito was vexed that he hadn't achieved anything in the psychiatric trauma du jour. There was nothing more he could do, really, than take his medicine in earnest, which he wholeheartedly did not want to do. But a job was a job and acting acceptable was his job. If he was forced to swallow horse pills each day, then he'd do it.
Soichiro sat tensely in the driver's seat. He gripped the steering wheel rigidly between arthritic fingers and sat square to the back of the seat. Throughout the trip, he had an electrified air of expression around him, but never spoke. He swallowed his words, but wanted to spit them out.
"Raito," he broke the steady hum of the engine, "I'm very proud of you."
The brunette stared blankly into his own eyes.
"If there's… if there's something you want, I'll get it for you. Is there anything you want tonight?"
The car slowed for a stoplight and Raito peered into the tinted windows of a limousine. "I want to go to Mikami's."
His father went silent. The only sound interrupting the hum of traffic was the steady swearing of "Kirin, Krishna, and Joseph," which was moaned by an angered Ryuzaki.
Seconds later, to Raito's distasteful surprise, Soichiro asked for directions.
Directions to Mikami's.
As if he honestly expected to be led there.
Raito allowed none of his surprise to muddle his words. He simply told his father to take a left at this street, a right at the next… It occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn't have given his father the address of his forbidden love. Then again, what was Soichiro going to do about it? Teru was the person to worry about. Were he to set eyes on the raging countenance of Soichiro, he'd lapse into a babbling fit.
'Oh my stars…'
Raito smirked into the window.
Not long after, Raito sighted the familiar masonry of his not-boyfriend's castle.
As the car pulled toward the crowded curb, Raito cast a bland glance into Ryuzaki's equally blank eyes. The mini-death chewed bemusedly upon his thumbnail and flexed his toes.
"I'll pick you up at nine," Soichiro grumbled, leaning toward the building and glaring upward at it. "Which floor does Mikami-san live on?"
Raito replied that the matter was unimportant and he would watch for his father's car from the balcony (provided it had no intention of killing him this time).
Smartly, Soichiro noticed that Raito wouldn't stand for arguing. The brunette was truly frustrated at the world and had no intention of staying in the car were an inquisitorial argument to take place. The older Yagami consented and Raito made his way out the door.
"Call me by five," Soichiro demanded. Raito inclined his head in an affirmative and soon his father drove out of sight.
Ryuzaki slouched in his usual Malnourished Neanderthal sort of way and gnawed on his nails. As he watched the car's turn signals blink into oblivion, he remarked, "I half wanted him to refuse, but the human world never seems to turn the way I want it to."
"That makes two of us," muttered Raito as he slipped through the door.
Halfway up the stairs, he decided that calling Mikami and informing him of the imminent invasion of his property was in order. His cell phone rang unanswered for a second or two, and then a polite "Hello" curled through the speaker.
"Hey," began Raito, "I'm coming up to your apartment."
"Well," Teru beamed, "When should I expect you?"
"Right about now," said Raito.
"…Now?"
"I'm on your floor."
"Kudos for the warning," Teru not-thanked. "Excuse me as I put a few things away."
Raito could tell that Ryuzaki was two steps behind him with a witty remark. "See you in a second," the brunette hummed.
"Yes," affirmed Teru amongst busy background noises. "I'll see you then."
Teru and Raito both hung up the phone.
"To think," Ryuzaki hummed quiescently as they neared the door, "you made such a fuss about wanting to talk to me. Rubbish."
"Keep your shirt on," Raito warned with a half-backward glance.
"As you say, as you say," the mini-death pacified.
Raito knocked on the door with the subtlety of a battering ram. Teru scrambled across the carpeted floor inside and soon, the chains and bolts were rattling in his front door. The wooden thing swayed into the distance and Teru's primly preened hairdo greeted the hall. "I'm surprised," the man remarked as he searched Raito from head to foot. "No beer this time?"
"No," Raito shrugged.
"Have we moved beyond our issues?" Teru inquired.
"No," Raito shrugged again.
"Hm," Teru sighed as he leaned on his doorframe. "In any case, welcome and make yourself at home."
"Thank you," Raito bowed slightly since he was feeling odd that day. He plodded into the apartment, peeling his shoes from his feet and meandering toward the couch. As he fiddled with the buttons on the remote control, Raito mentioned, "My father's going to pick me up at nine."
"Should I be worried?" Teru asked while he took a spot on the couch.
"No," the brunette sighed. "He's not coming in."
"I see. Though I suppose we will have to meet each other sometime," the dark-haired man remarked gravely.
"Perhaps in twenty-twelve," Raito hushed in an equally cryptic tone. "Armageddon."
"Scared," mocked Teru.
During this exchange, Ryuzaki had seated himself out of the way. He lurked in the corner by the recliner, amusing himself by sticking his fingers on a light bulb within a nearby lamp. He held them there and boredly rested his chin in the palm of the other hand. "So hot," he sighed sensationally, "and yet so cold. How cruel is the world…"
Raito rolled his eyes.
"I'm hungry," complained the brunette over the babble of the television's rugby commentators.
"Alas, I am but a law-school student," Teru's polo shirt stretched in a sigh. "I have but ramen, doughnuts, and tea."
"Ramen," said Raito.
And Teru skipped off like the good puppy he was.
Meanwhile, Raito addressed Ryuzaki. "May I ask why you're being such an emotional prick suddenly?"
"Dear," scorned Ryuzaki with his fingers still glued to the glowing light bulb, "Am I not permitted a second's philosophical refuge?"
"Not if you whine about it."
"I wasn't whining," Ryuzaki denied. "Only pondering."
"You're trying to get my attention," Raito crossed his arms and remarked dryly.
"Of course not," deadpanned the mini-death. "Any desire for attention is wasted on you when you're mooning about with tall, dark, silent mortals."
"If you want something to do, then prowl, or something," Raito groused.
"Vengeful boy," remarked Ryuzaki with a sardonic flop of the wrist.
"Seriously," Raito gritted. If the mini-death wanted to feel important, the brunette would make use of his enthusiasm. He glared at the archway dividing the living room from the rest of the world. If Ryuzaki wanted something to do, he could go spying on whatever dirty laundry may have been hiding in Teru's closet. "Tell me what's behind those walls," Raito suggested softly. "I want to know why I haven't been introduced to that side of the house yet."
Ryuzaki perked up somewhat. "Would that please you, mighty Kira?"
"Perhaps."
"Enough to appeal to my romantic side, emaciated and neglected though it may be?"
"Depends."
"In my next attempt at romance, feel free to participate."
"No."
"In that case, I suppose I'll sit here and bother you."
Raito rolled his eyes furiously. Incidentally, he really wanted to see what was on that side of the house. He didn't know what had come over him, but he wished he could see the dangers lurking behind Teru's walls. Damn that Ryuzaki, using his own curiosity against him…
"Fine," he consented, "but I won't like it."
"You don't know that," the mini-death blinked his panda eyes happily and gnawed on his pinky-nail.
Raito sighed flatly. "Get to work."
----
Raito reclined elegantly on his white leather divan. He fanned himself with the feathered plumes of Pride. Power's cascading frills flowed to the floor like a waterfall of black silk. Detached from the world as a fault of his stature, Raito rested far above any groveling mortal. Life was unworthy of the dirt beneath his sparkling stilettos.
Death was indeed a cruel mistress.
As one of Death's vassals, L was the first to know.
Still, he was being rewarded for his efforts with a treat, a pat on the head and an overzealous 'who's a good doggie-woggie? Ryuzaki's a good doggy-woggy! Yes he is!'
Oddly enough, L couldn't bring himself to care.
Raito was agreeing, willingly or otherwise, to allow L his romantic freedom. He'd have to study up on his Karma Sutra, which was the only book L had never read. He never thought he'd have to. Until he met Raito, he felt its lessons were useless.
Oh, but what golden, glorious value its words held now!
In life, L had made it a goal of his to think only on the dark side of matters, since life was so much less disappointing that way. However, as he slunk past the forbidden doors of Mikami's mansion, he couldn't dispel the blinding light of his quixotic future.
He sincerely hoped he'd be able to move Raito beyond a yawn and a snore.
Brilliance aside, L swam across the dark, musty, carpeted floor. There was nothing extraordinary to note. The room was Mikami's bedroom, obvious by the unkempt four-poster at the middle of one wall. His wardrobe towered quietly near a full-length mirror, which had been draped in khaki pants, jeans, and formalwear. L raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the gloom. Behind the scenes, Mikami's apartment was a bit of a pigsty.
A desk sat near the window. L decided to investigate, since it seemed much more important than the messy bed or the mirror. It was a sturdy, cherry-stained thing which gave the impression of a pool table when observed in the wrong light. Its top was peculiarly lined in green fuzz. Papers lay strewn about, pens in a likewise state of disarray. A few nondescript picture frames containing images of Mikami's friends and family lay in varying states of UV-damage.
L examined the papers. He searched for alarming keywords in the text and found that most of the papers were either business-related or school-related. As he was playing with the papers, he accidentally knocked a pen to the floor. Cursing his carelessness, L peered over the edge of the desk to find that the pen had landed in the garbage can.
In the… garbage… can…
L's eyes widened and he stared in disbelief at the single most important area he'd overlooked. At least ten pencil stubs littered the wastebasket along with countless pens. Crumpled newspapers burst from the gaps in the basket's wiring.
But this was not the most shocking thing that L saw. He glared, fully shocked and mildly mortified by what the trash can held.
The garbage can was full of apples.
L's eyes roved the landscape and located a bowl of apples sitting unassumingly on the bedside table. L reveled in his discovery, and at the same time he felt profoundly disgruntled by his findings. Raito would love him for this, and he would hate him.
L surged through the window and located a dumpster in the alley outside. He flew down to it, soared through its lid, and ripped the black trash bags open one by one.
Apple cores.
Hundreds of apple cores.
"Shoulda' known," a gravelly voice sounded from above.
L withdrew immediately from the dumpster and eyed the sky. He spotted a familiar sight perched comfortably on the railing of a distant fire escape.
There Ryuk was, grinning in all his jester-like glory, looking for all the world like the brainchild of Frankenstein, and seeming completely relaxed.
"Perhaps it is I who should have known," L announced flatly, stretching his spine and squaring his shoulders.
"You're not surprised?" the shinigami belched with a dull gleam of his fishy eyes.
"It would be a lie to say that I am not surprised," L remarked calmly, "but the situation is favorably ironic. How have you been?"
"Pretty good," Ryuk replied with a scratch of the head. "Nice apples around here."
"I can tell," L gestured to the dumpster. On another note, he inquired as to the state of Raito's safety. "Since I have discovered you, have you any elaborate schemes of vengeance against your enemy?"
"Not really," belched Ryuk. "I won't do anything to your precious little Kira. Too much work."
"You will not inform Mikami that he is Kira?"
"If I wanted to, I woulda' done it already. But like I said, too much work. Besides, I like watching humans figure stuff out. Especially the one with the glasses. He's a riot."
"I'm glad you're entertained," L remarked earnestly. As long as Ryuk had his fun, he could be discounted as dangerous.
"You wouldn't be interested in telling me where Mikami hides his death note, would you?" L asked politely.
"No," Ryuk refused. "I may not be on his side, but I'm not on yours, either. You want it? Go look for it."
"I see," sighed L. "Thank you for your time." Honestly, he felt quite silly for being so polite. However, he understood that goodwill was essential when meddling in the affairs of dragons.
L scaled the wall and reentered the house through Mikami's bedroom window. He debated on whether or not to search for the mortal's death note, but prophesied the search to be tedious and useless. The mini-death had the information he needed. Mikami would not write Raito's name in his death note. He was too smitten with the brunette to do so. Even if he knew Raito was Kira, Mikami would have a rough night deciding with what to do with his name.
As he wafted back into the living room, another debate smacked into him like a brick wall.
Would he tell Raito?
The brunette would be infinitely wrathful if L came back empty-handed, and equally wrathful upon learning that he was visiting the house of an Anti-Kira. If he withheld the information, he would have to tell Raito sooner or later. Raito would discover that L had been hiding facts from him in order to accomplish his romantic wiles uninterrupted. This would not go over well. If he told Raito that he knew something, but held the information back until he got what he wanted, their outing would turn into a stalemate with Raito left in eager suspense. If he told Raito straight out, he risked losing the brunette's attention.
So many choices…
So many mistakes…
Each led to separate hells of various natures, but L liked to think of himself as a deep thinker. The last of his choices would cause him the least pain over time. Whereas telling Raito immediately was like crashing into a tree on a snowboard, withholding the information was a slowly creeping infection of gangrene. He would regret the latter more than the former. Raito would recover quickly if L announced it soon.
The mortal in question gave L a critical eye once he blew into the room. Raito was currently involved in a heated conversation with Mikami about something or another, so L waited patiently on the arm of the reclining chair.
Raito cut his conversation off and announced that he was going to the balcony for some fresh air. L flew to the sliding doors and surveyed the deck. No slippery, jagged, or conveniently combustible materials lay strewn across the balcony, and therefore, L deemed it safe for Raito's use. Once they were both outside, Raito hung his head over the railing and sighed, "So?"
"You won't like it," L warned blandly, knowing that caution was in vain.
Raito glared at him. "I don't care."
"You will," L nodded, not quite solemnly and not quite enthusiastically. He kept his voice singsong purely for the lack of dramatic effect and watched for yet another urge from Raito.
"Just tell me," Raito demanded.
So L did.
"Well," he described in a roundabout way, "I discovered that his room is terribly unkempt in nature, quite different from the neat and clean surfaces you've become accustomed to. But this is not the point."
"And what is the point?" Raito growled.
"While I was searching his desk, I stumbled upon a garbage bin full of apple cores."
It did not take the brunette's eyes long to narrow in resentment.
"Ryuk," he spat.
"No other," confirmed L. "Though he did explain to me that he had no intention of revealing your identity. If he desired, he would have done so already."
Raito eyed the blaring cars and babbling pedestrians below. "I suppose you're right. Even if Mikami learns, I'll be safe. He loves me too much."
Confident.
"I do hope you're right," shrugged L.
"Well, we've found one," Raito sighed as he heaved himself off of the railing. "And now, for the other two."
L could have been frank and hummed 'Perhaps more' in a lackadaisical sort of manner, but he deemed the remark to be counterproductive to his cause. L wanted Raito in a good mood when he ambushed him.
Just as L and Raito were about to make their way back into the building, Mikami threw open the door and hollered, "Raito! You have to see this!"
----
No way.
No way, no way, no way.
If Raito thought he was shocked a minute ago, he was totally unprepared for A and W's second public service announcement. Perhaps the devious duo was behind it all, even though the man at Sakura TV's news desk was old, fat, and loud.
"Citizens of Japan," the man began with a sweep of his broom-like mustache. "I address those of you who fear Kira and those who endorse him."
Raito saw no ground to be gained since the first and most climactic of A and W's announcements had long ago been said. Were his nemeses so desperate as to tempt him with an accusation of the same kind? What were they planning to profile this time?
"Through careful examination of these brutal, unforgivable murders, the FBI-" The FBI? of course the FBI, but not if A and W were involved. The two of them had no problem putting Japan's law enforcement in jeopardy, but the average Japanese citizen wouldn't endanger the NPA. The man probably had nothing to do with America's investigative bureau anyhow. An FBI agent would never reveal his face to Kira- "has concluded one shocking thing: Kira is using innocent men and women to commit dastardly crimes!"
What?
WHAT?
How could-
How could he?
Raito clawed secretively at the sides of his jeans. He allowed his surprise only to show insomuch that Mikami would notice. Ryuzaki observed the television with a thumb in his teeth and murmured, "What is he getting at, I wonder?"
Yes, what was he getting at? Didn't A and W's hand-puppet know that detailing Kira's powers would send the community into a frenzied panic? Didn't he understand that explaining Kira's control over the future was a horrible mistake? If this was A and W's doing, they were practically ditching their earlier strategy of 'he is a mortal human being' and replacing it with 'he is a god with supernatural powers!' The jump almost made Raito doubt that this was truly his nemeses' handiwork. How could the world's premier detectives, who were so reserved and quiet, publicly announce that every man and woman, regardless of spiritual good, was in danger?
Whoever this man was, he was obviously trying to shock someone into giving Kira away. This hysteria would undoubtedly encourage neighbor to accuse neighbor should the slightest wrongdoing happen. The greater Tokyo area would dissolve into chaos, since it was widely regarded as the headquarters of the greatest God of Death in the universe.
He watched in morbid interest, however, as the unknown, balding man contorted Kira's power to his liking.
"In punishing evil, one would imagine the crime rate to fall, when in fact, it has risen!"
Risen slightly in the past two weeks maybe. How the hell did he see this, anyway? Raito didn't massacre enough people for anyone to notice. However, perhaps this person or his organization had observed the spotless criminal records of his victims and assumed that something was driving them to commit crimes, despite the threat of being struck down by Kira.
Dammit!
"Innocent men and women with dreams and families have begun to destroy themselves. Kira is forcing these people to do his bidding! Friends rob friends! Neighbors attack neighbors! Families war amongst themselves! Some may see Kira as the God of Salvation, but he a Demon of Discord!"
Hm. So he wasn't mentioning Kira's control of the future, just that he could force people to 'do his bidding.' That lessened the shock value somewhat.
The man continued raving, but Raito didn't want to hear it.
Whatever organization the man belonged to, this is what it was up to. Decrease Kira's following. Encourage the public to seek him out with their pitchforks and torches, but with a twist.
This man did not turn Japan on itself. He hoped to unite it against a common foe: one the citizens could blame for all of their hardships. Also, if Kira had a close group who knew him by name, this group would blaze into action and rebel against their god. It was an incredibly risky move and one Raito adamantly disapproved of, but he could not see from this organization's lofty eyes.
It was at this point in time that he deemed the announcement to be of no relation whatsoever to A and W. As Raito said before, his nemeses wouldn't take such an obvious and dangerous approach. The fact that the broadcast was not halted, however, raised Raito's suspicion that though A and W hadn't written the speech, they were not opposed to it. Perhaps the reason lay in the fact that Sakura TV was an ill-reputed gossip channel. The news would circulate, though. Maybe A and W assured themselves that the outburst would fade into the flood of ever-darkening Kira-Cult superstition.
But Raito knew that, at the very moment he was worrying, A and W were plotting. They were devouring every word so they could reinforce it and send it flying to Kira's disfavor.
"I assume by the look on your face that you've realized what's happening," Ryuzaki hummed with that damn thumb in his mouth.
So condescending. As if he already knew what was going on and was lying in wait for the sparkle in Raito's eyes.
The mini-death blinked, understanding Raito's attitude, and quickly reconciled himself. "Oh no. I'm not saying that I knew. I merely wish to hear your thoughts on the matter."
Yeah?
Well when he got home, he was going to explain his thoughts on the matter. Violently.
"Quite the show," remarked Teru with his arm around Raito's shoulder.
"I can't believe you actually watch this stuff," muttered Raito, sulking.
"You don't like it?" the spectacled man asked with a rise of the eyebrows.
"I think it's crap," the brunette grumbled. "Honestly, why do they talk about this? It's only going to scare Japan out of its wits."
"Maybe you're right," Teru admitted strangely, "but I love it."
Raito blew a raspberry at him and moved on with his life. Now then, how to deal with the current situation. Ryuk he could handle, but the recent television report…
…He could handle as well.
Raito had one of two choices. Either he changed his ways and reverted to killing true criminals, which he planned on doing anyway, or he met Sakura TV's challenge with one of his own. For example, he could easily turn the news program's producer into a maniac and force him to kill all of his coworkers before proclaiming that Kira was King and those who thought otherwise could shove it.
But, then again…
Since Raito himself was in a crazy mood, the NPA could observe the trends in sane people becoming lunatics, turn its eyes in his direction, say 'Oh dear God no,' and lock him up in a mental institution just to keep him away from harm.
Hmm…
And therefore, that plan was a failure.
Thus, he was left with his original strategy. He would kill just as many criminals, but they would all have committed dastardly deeds of their own volition. Raito also would make no attempt to kill people with more extensive criminal records. Doing so was an act of defense and Kira clearly didn't want A and W to perceive his security as desperation.
There.
Crisis averted.
----
Poor, poor Death.
Lying there, laboring and groaning amongst the plush pillows and fluffy quilts. Black veils streamed over the bed like mosquito nets woven from the threads of nightmares…
Frankly, watching Raito in the throes of medication side-effects at midnight brought out the poet in L.
"Why…" lamented Raito sadly as he tossed the pinwheeled blankets on his bed. "Why, why, why."
"Why, why, why," echoed L since he had nothing better to do.
"Don't… make fun of me…"
"Oh, but I will. You see, you're so easily made fun of. It brings joy to my tiny, abused heart."
"Nhhnnnnng," Raito complained.
"Mmm… music, I suppose. But I personally believe that a 'hmmmmmmmmm' is more fitting to a young man such as yourself. Darker. More intelligent."
"Hmmmmmmm," grumbled Raito in a snobbish sort of way.
"Now you've got it," L clapped. "Keep it up."
"You're not helping…" groaned the agonized teen.
"Don't get me wrong," L defended blandly, "But if there were something I could do for you, I would. However, your pain is beyond my control."
Raito whined.
"What do you expect me to do?" deadpanned L. "As far as I know, you don't have an on-off switch to your pain. On second thought, yes you do, and I've heard that it is quite effective. But physically and socially, I am quite a distance away, so there is nothing I can do."
"Seriously, Ryuzaki. That needs to stop."
"Forgive my libido," mumbled a frustrated L, "It does not know its own strength."
Raito crowned himself in the forehead with a pillow.
This alarmed L. "Physical abuse is unhealthy," he warned. "I advise against it."
Raito released the pillow on his face and it sat there, deflating sadly. L crawled across the mountains and ravines of tossed blankets to gingerly lift the pillow by its case. Raito slammed an arm across it and held it down.
"You'll get nowhere that way," L advised. Raito's hand did not budge. "I see," the mini-death remarked as he crouched and gnawed on his thumb. "Perhaps it would help if you were not so vengefully focused on your agony. Would you like me to tell you a story?"
"Yes," muttered a pillow-muffled Raito sarcastically, "Because I'm still three years old."
This sarcasm was voluntarily lost in L.
"Okay. Once, there was an angry prince named Kira."
"Jesus Christ," Raito groaned violently.
"What? You dislike my story?" the mini-death slumped in mock disappointment.
"Yes," confirmed Raito.
"I see," L gnawed sadly on his thumb. "In that case, how would it please you to pass the time?"
"Sleep…" muttered the brunette.
"I suppose I'll just sit here, then."
"That would be grand."
"Indeed it would, though I'd much rather sleep alongside a certain angry brunette…"
"Stop. Really."
"Oh? You thought I was talking about you? Oh, heavens no. You see, the man I'm thinking of was brought forth purely from my imagination. He is kind, polite, has a sense of humor, and smiles occasionally. I know no angry brunettes fitting that description."
Raito grabbed his sleeve and tugged him down.
Which, as L recalled, was in the direction of both the mattress and Raito.
Hmm.
To be exact, 'Hmm' was the very thing L was thinking as he hit the pillows and Raito's arm wrapped around his shoulders.
"Will you shut up now?" Raito growled from below his pillow. Since the fluffy piece of furniture was where it was, L had no way of determining the color of Raito's face. He assumed, however, that it was red.
Red with humiliation or red with exasperation?
Having won their little game anyhow, L simply smiled and poked fun at the angry brunette by prying his way beneath the pillow. He found Raito's face (Kira bit his sleeve), and moved on. He pulled the edge of his sleeve over one thumb and circled behind Raito's ear in the most natural way he could manage.
Raito was about as pliable as a two-by-four. His stiffness, though, wasn't that of embarrassment. The brunette was clearly annoyed and inconvenienced by his current position.
L was nearly bothered by Raito's holier-than-thou attitude, but he withstood it and reminded himself that this was Kira he was attempting to warm up to. He was about as cuddly as an iron maiden and determined to stay that way.
L grabbed a few pillows with his free hand and placed them in his general area, just in case either of them fell asleep and someone walked into the room to find Raito's arm resting on a hill of air.
To humor Raito's stiffness, he remarked, "Relax. I'm not going to break your arm off."
"I know this has happened before," the brunette muttered irately beneath his pillow, "but it's still terrifically unnatural."
"And here I was thinking you adapted well," sighed L as he peeled the pillow away from the side of Raito's face. As he did so, he mentioned offhandedly, "It would do you well to lose yourself once in a while, you know."
Raito's bored and frustrated eyes glared at him. "What do you mean?"
"Stop acting as if you've been petrified for thousands of years. You did agree, after all, not to be so rigid as payment for my escapades into Mikami's private rooms. Besides, midnight has passed. You must be exhausted."
"I am," admitted Raito with drooping eyes, "but you keep bothering me. I can't sleep."
Rude.
"Then I will lie still so you can close your eyes and sleep. I suppose that's all I can ask of you."
The brunette scowled for a second before his eyelashes drooped. Raito closed his eyes and breathed deeply, flexing his wrist around L's back.
Minutes later, it became apparent to L that despite Raito's apparent bliss, he was not asleep. Raito's periodical twitches told that much. L knew Raito would never accept an advance of any kind. Sardonically, the mini-death puffed his cheek out and sighed, "This isn't like us, is it?"
Raito made a grunt as if to say, 'Here we go again…'
"Perhaps the reason I cannot be romantic is that I haven't a romantic bone in my body, and neither do you," mused L.
"…You wonder about this?"
"I do. Now I do, anyhow." L pointed out factually, "Me, the literally inhuman icebox who has never once experienced attraction to anything, and you, who have been desensitized to love. It's quite tragic, really."
"Maybe tragic," yawned Raito, "but not hopeless I guess. I don't feel horrible anymore, if that makes you feel any better."
This coming from Kira, who could often be equally as cold as L was? Strange.
"I suppose I've served my purpose. Shall I leave, then?" the mini-death sighed.
"No," murmured Raito with another flex of his wrist. "I just got comfortable. Stay there. You're a useful armrest."
L disregarded the haughty attitude, but was surprised nonetheless. "If you want."
Raito said nothing else and sure enough, before one-o-clock in the morning, he fell asleep.
Now, as yet another side effect of Raito's drugs, aside from the aches and pains, overwhelming lethargy tended to manifest itself. The aforementioned mortal did not want to get up the next morning. His sister skipped into the room and yelled at him once, upon which the brunette tightened his hold around L's shoulders (delightfully) and refused to wake up. This was terribly inconvenient, since Raito's first class was early. Sayu returned ten minutes later with a frying pan and a ladle. "Get up, sleepyhead!" she banged the ladle against the pan.
Raito glared at her and told her to go away.
Then, she jumped on him.
L made a hasty retreat as Raito flailed and raged to get his sister off of his back. "Let me sleep!" Kira groaned. "Nope!" giggled Sayu. "You have school today!"
"So do you…" growled Kira.
"After you," Sayu grinned and stuck her tongue out.
Sayu was quite possibly the most adorable thing L had ever seen, besides Raito in one of his odd moods. She always put her hair in the cutest pigtails, which bobbed in the sweetest way whenever she walked, and she walked in a bubbly, bouncy fashion. She lit up the room and unfortunately Raito wanted nothing more than to be left in the dark.
"I'm tired," the brunette continued to complain.
"Come ooonnnnnnn… You're never this tired in the morning." Sayu bounced on the mattress and crossed her arms disapprovingly. "How late were you up last night?"
"No later than usual," grumbled the brunette.
"So… pills? Having fun with those?"
"God damn," Raito swore.
"You said a wordy dird." Sayu crooned childishly.
"Just go away. I'll be up in a minute…"
Sayu grinned with a mouthful of sparkly teeth. "Okie-dokie! But if you don't get up, I'm gonna' sic' mom on you." And then she hopped off of the bed, grabbed her kitchenware, and skipped back out the door.
"She's very cute," L remarked.
"Pedo," chanted Raito.
L rolled his eyes.
Raito stretched both arms until they bent against the headboard. Despite how tired he was, the brunette did not simply roll out of bed. Heavens, no. Kira regally flicked his hair and strode onto the floor with his head thrown back like an irritated Aphrodite. He picked his clothes from his dresser and folded them across one arm before purposefully marching out the door.
…He was going to take a shower without berating L beforehand?
Very, very abnormal. As a matter of fact, L became confused. If the mini-death recalled correctly, Raito hadn't shoved him off last night. Usually, L was not to be set aside so lightly.
He was to be thrown.
With great force.
Which may or may not have been a strange rendering of someone else's words, someone far more famous than L, but the mini-death's confusion prevented him from discovering that fact.
L suspected that Raito wanted something out of this. Even on a promise, Raito wouldn't have been acting the way he was. Hmm… The little bastard was bribing him. L knew it. But what for? Raito wanted him to do something.
Or perhaps he was simply too tired to argue.
L was very confused.
Raito emerged twenty minutes later, dressed to impress, and leered oddly at L from beyond the doorframe. The mini-death arched invisible eyebrows at him. "Something wrong?"
Raito stared strangely at him and crossed his arms across his chest. When L asked what he'd done wrong, the brunette chewed on his bottom lip and said something that would further baffle L, who was tragically unaccustomed to that sort of thing.
"Last night wasn't my night," he grumbled almost crossly. "Maybe some other time."
L chose to disguise his growing confusion beneath a veil of indifference and scorn. "Is that a promise? You seem to be breaking more and more of those lately."
Raito glared blandly. He offered no defensive excuse as to his vexed-to-vacant behavior, yet L inferred through logic that his medicine was playing pong with the chemicals in his brain. Either that, or this was a teen thing, but L knew nothing about teenagers and generally stayed as far away from them as he could.
Oddly, Raito huffed to the ceiling and muttered something along the lines of "I have to go to school," before he stomped off in no particular direction for no particular reason. L watched him as he went, noting the peculiar way in which he thundered down the stairs.
----
Once Raito's college courses were finished for the day, the Yagami boy zombied off in no direction in particular and got himself lost. He walked past one of the larger public broadcasting televisions and found its news program terribly interesting. The station was replaying Sakura TV's Kira attack.
"-spoke with the ever-popular Sakura TV. His identity remains unknown…" The anchorwoman recited the man's claims that Kira was a murderer, not a savior. Nevertheless, she said, Japan was not to fear. The situation 'was under control' and the speaker 'was under investigation.'
Surprisingly enough, she sounded like she was on Kira's side.
The blue bar at the bottom of the screen did not read 'Kira: a murderer?' or anything of that nature. Instead, it said 'Suspicious newscast from Sakura TV.'
Hah!
The public recognized that Kira was on their side after all!
"You look awfully happy," droned Ryuzaki.
"She's on my side," Raito beamed proudly.
"She's afraid of you," corrected the mini-death. "She is an anchorwoman, and as such, she is widely recognized. Kira could easily kill her for disagreeing with him."
Raito glared. Ryuzaki was such an ignorant prick sometimes. Raito refused to hold such a pointless argument with the mini-death. If Ryuzaki wanted to disagree with him, then so be it. Raito wasn't about to be dragged down by his pessimism.
Instead, Raito decided to lecture Ryuzaki. He whirled on his heel and whipped out his cellular phone. "Ryuzaki, you've been many places and seen many things, am I correct?"
"Yes," stated the mini-death.
"Then you must be aware of what and what not to do in a romantic relationship."
"No," said Ryuzaki.
"In that case," hummed Raito, "Allow me to teach you something. When two human beings love each other very much-"
"I am not a human being."
"For the purposes of this explanation, you are."
"But I am not. Therefore, this lecture of yours is obsolete," stated the mini-death.
"Allow me to rephrase then. When a human and an idiot love each other very much-"
"Raito, you could not possibly love an idiot."
"When a human and an interrupting mini-death love each other very much-"
"Ah, you mean me?"
Now he was just playing stupid.
If only to preserve his own fuse, Raito ignored him and continued, "The mini-death will do anything to make the human happy."
"So this affection is not reciprocated then?"
"Not right now, it's not," Raito warned.
"Ah, I see," muttered Ryuzaki with a thumbnail between his teeth. "Do go on, then."
"Now suppose this mini-death is you and this human is me. You want to do whatever you can to ensure that your feelings are returned. In order to accomplish this, you must agree with everything I say."
"Narcissist," hummed Ryuzaki.
"What?" sighed Raito.
"You plan to transform me into a copy of yourself. You will hear nothing but your own ideas and that satisfies you. You are a narcissist."
"Yes, Ryuzaki. If it will make you shut up and listen, I am a narcissist."
"I knew it," growled Ryuzaki.
"Furthermore," Raito interjected in a raised voice, "if you suspect that I wouldn't like to hear something, then by all means, if it won't kill me not to know, keep it to yourself."
"But your ego might kill you," Ryuzaki countered smartly. "I must keep it in check."
"Go to hell," suggested Raito.
"Only if you come with me," demanded Ryuzaki.
Raito, inferring from experience that the argument would go absolutely nowhere, focused his attention back to the television. An old man with the severest of expressions on his face was currently discussing Sakura TV's accusations.
Was he debunking them?
Raito's stamina was leaving him, and therefore he decided that he'd discover the news sometime or other from his sister or his father. He tucked his cell phone back into his pocket and meandered home.
He wondered what Sakura TV thought of all of this. Perhaps they'd hold an interesting retaliation later.
When Raito lumbered into the house, he found his mother cooking in the kitchen. She waved a hello to him with her tired, creased fingers. Out of the kindness of his heart, Raito set Ryuzaki aside for a moment to small-talk with his mom about how good dinner smelled. Sachiko was naturally flattered and the crows' feet at the corners of her eyes deepened with joy. Having done his good deed for the day, Kira slithered up to his room, slunk into bed, and sat there.
He had a habit of doing that lately.
Ryuzaki crawled about the room like a spider and Raito fiddled with the remote in order to research a new victim or two via the media. On a whim, he punched Sakura TV's channel into the remote and the screen blipped to a commercial of something akin to "Girls Gone Wild." Raito rolled his eyes. How typical.
Raito didn't particularly care for the seedy underbelly of the female scene, but Ryuzaki appeared quite taken aback by it. He crawled across the ceiling and dropped to the desk, where he smothered the television and refused to allow the smallest ray of light to bleed through. All the while he gave Raito a bored glare and repeated, "No," with the least enthusiasm he could muster.
Raito rolled his eyes and turned his attention elsewhere. Once the commercial's annoying drone changed, Ryuzaki released the television from his death-grip and left for an undistinguished corner of the room where he amused himself with the ridges in the wall. Nothing important ever showed itself, so Raito lost interest in a matter of minutes.
Luck would have it that Soichiro had come home, Sayu was running around on the first floor, and dinner was ready all at the same time. Raito was summoned from his lair and the dopey Kira lurched down the stairs just to prove how positively annoyed he was with his medication.
Soichiro took note of his son's exaggerated movements and told him to suck it up. Raito sat at the table and despised his father quietly. The brunette was in the middle of a gulp of iced tea when Soichiro's cellular phone resounded throughout the room. Sayu, Raito, and Ryuzaki (having suddenly popped out of the ceiling) tilted their heads and cast him the queerest of looks.
Soichiro checked his caller ID, stood up, made for the hall, and answered the phone with a grave "Yes?"
He stopped in his tracks.
With the phone still to his ear, Raito's father dashed across the room, snatched up the remote on his couch, and quickly turned the television on. Sayu cooed and bounced over to the couch. Sachiko groused about Soichiro ruining dinner. Raito and Ryuzaki both leaned sideways to blink at the glowing television screen.
Soichiro had changed the channel to Sakura TV.
And Raito was very, very glad.
"…are being held hostage by Kira and under Kira's direct orders, we must show these terrifying videos…" The anchorman stated methodically, smoothing his gelled, black hair. He asked his audience to understand that these videos were not being shown exclusively in order to promote sensationalism (though Raito knew sensationalism was half the reason Sakura TV broadcast the announcement in the first place).
"Just this afternoon, a box containing four videotapes was sent to one of our directors. The instructions placed with the tapes demanded that we watch the first video ourselves…" The announcer went on to mention that the tape set a time for a recently convicted criminal's death. This tape was proven true when at said time, said criminal died of a mysterious heart attack. Another person and time were described on the tape. The second person died in much the same way. All in all, the television station was certain that these tapes were a personal response from Kira, attempting to debunk Sakura's earlier Kira-killer announcements.
Personally, Raito wondered how this non-Kira could respond so quickly to an announcement made only a day ago.
…wait.
The television stated briskly that the man who desecrated Kira's name earlier had died immediately after via sudden cardiac arrest.
So this X-Kira, in the interest of provoking the true Kira in the quickest way possible, forced the unknown man to make his speech before dying of a heart attack… So X-Kira made his videotape beforehand, knowing his victim's actions beforehand. Then, he sent it to Sakura TV.
Interesting theory…
"Kira also demanded that we show this tape at exactly five-fifty-eight this afternoon. The staff here at Sakura TV has not personally viewed this tape, but the instructions clearly foretell another killing."
Hm. So they hadn't viewed it yet, had they? Convenient. Whoever was in charge of keeping the tapes was going to die sooner or later. X-Kira probably had him scheduled to keep all but the first tape away from the rest of the staff before being run over by a car. Since the tapes were addressed to one of the channel's directors, this director became the most likely candidate.
A smart Anti-Kira?
Raito didn't particularly enjoy the idea.
"The time is now five-fifty eight."
Without any ado whatsoever, the screen fuzzed out to a scratchy, wobbly image of the letters K, I, R, and A written in amateur gothic font in black pen on a college-ruled piece of paper. Kira nearly lost his dinner. The tape was clearly an imitation of A and W's work, and a shoddy imitation at that! Raito was positively disgusted. Whatever respect he may have had for X-Kira's devious planning flew straight into the ocean while attached to a cinderblock.
"I am Kira," a mechanized voice scratched. "This video was aired on Sakura TV at exactly five-fifty-eight pm. I assure you that I am the one true Kira, but I understand that there are some of you who still do not have faith in my divine power."
Faith in his divine power.
How interesting…
Perhaps this X-Kira wasn't an Anti-Kira after all…
Still, Raito wasn't at all proud with the way X-Kira had gone about his business. A and W in all their splendor would undoubtedly connect the timings of the old man's Kira-killer speech and the subsequent defense. They would conclude that Kira could indeed control the actions of the judged. What was more, this X-Kira had his puppet broadcast Kira's deepest of powers. If he were Raito's ally, he never would have disclosed such harmful information.
Raito was unsure of what to think of his new discovery.
In any case, the voice prattled on.
"I, Kira, do exist. I am Providence itself. Those who oppose me will be crushed by the hand of justice. Behold, as I demonstrate to the infidels that the voice you hear is the voice of God. It is now five-fifty-nine. The man you are about to see has repeatedly desecrated my name. He has referred to me as 'evil,' and must therefore be punished for his heresy."
'Kira' then instructed his audience to switch their channels. "Switch it, switch it!" shrilled Sayu, balanced precariously on the couch's forward edge. Soichiro wasted no time in changing the channel. The Yagami household witnessed a talk show host laughing heartily before his visage suddenly popped and twisted in pain. A mere second later, he collapsed over the surface of his desk and the cameras began to shake as the crew rushed up to the soundstage.
Raito oozed covertly into the shadows cast behind the couch by the light of the television. Ryuzaki accompanied him, swimming across the ceiling and shooting a thoughtful glower about the room.
Soichiro changed the channel back.
"Now you have witnessed a small taste of my divine power. However, one demonstration is not enough to convince the truly skeptical. The second man, an actor who repeatedly defaces my authority with obscene jokes and gestures, will die at precisely six-o-clock and twenty four seconds."
The voice instructed his audience to switch the channel again. The television instantly winked at another scene where said actor, in the middle of an interview, doubled over and ceased to breathe.
Raito considered a moment the sheer amount of conscious genius this X-Kira must have possessed. Granted, his moves were awkward with ill long-term effects, but this Kira obviously had a plan. There was a lag tacked onto television programs, live or not. This meant that Kira calculated the exact delay in broadcasting to make it appear as if his victims all died directly at his command.
In order to have such readily available information about broadcasting lag, this X-Kira must've known much about the television business…
Genius.
And Raito was afraid of it.
"I have graciously provided the infidels with proof of my might. I trust that all of those watching now believe that I am who I say I am," buzzed the voice once a sweating Soichiro flipped back to Sakura TV. The old man chattered urgently into his phone while his son glared transfixed on the screen.
"Please understand that I love innocent people and regret the loss of so many innocent lives. That is why I work to free the oppressed from the claws of evil. I consider the law as my ally against darkness. I do not wish to fight the police. With the aid of many strong, kind people, my goal of peace shall be attained at last. The innocent shall live in an honorable society, free from fear. The meek shall indeed inherit the earth!"
Now Raito was baffled. He was killing Kira and empowering Kira with the same breath of air. He crippled Raito's stealth with the old man's announcement and now he was raising Kira to the status of 'God of Justice.' Why?
X-Kira was appealing to the people, not A and W. That was why.
A strange strategy.
Raito was unsure whether X-Kira was extremely smart, extremely stupid, extremely lucky, or a mixture of the three. His underlying goals contradicted themselves so drastically, Raito didn't know what to think about them anymore.
"If you good people rise with my right hand, this land of promise will be yours! Those who condemn me and refuse my light, however, shall be punished. Those of you who outwardly deny my righteousness shall be extinguished for preventing the spread of peace. If you disagree with me, you may refrain from publicizing your views and you shall be spared."
Sayu stared in awe at the glowing screen, Sachiko joining her on the couch. As Raito watched this perplexing monologue, his father suddenly appeared alongside him and pulled his son against him with his free arm in a reassuring gesture. Raito must've let more emotion seep into his eyes than was necessary…
In any case, Soichiro kept jabbering and the X-Kira continued preaching.
"Soon, the world will be inhabited by the pure of heart," assured X-Kira, "Evil will be vanquished…" yadda yadda. Raito lost his interest and instead opted to eavesdrop on his father's call.
"Ukita?" Soichiro stammered, "He's… which channel?" He suddenly changed the channel again to a slightly better-reputed news show. The reporter ranted from across the street, pointing at a dark lump lying just outside of Sakura TV's front doors. "Someone has… someone has collapsed in front of Sakura TV!"
"Dammit!" swore Soichiro, "Kira got him! We have to do something about this… Wait! The armored van! The armored van!"
And with that, Soichiro released the pressure on his son's side and stormed out of earshot.
"Oh dear," deadpanned Ryuzaki from his vantage point on the ceiling.
Oh dear indeed.
This Anti-Kira could kill with no strings attached. Worriedly, he excused himself from the room and fled for his bed. Raito locked the door behind him and summoned Ryuzaki. The mini-death materialized near the foot of Raito's desk and alighted on his footboard.
"Ryuzaki, tell me about death notes again," demanded Raito.
"In order to kill someone with a death note," began Ryuzaki, "one must imagine the name and face of his victim before writing his name in the notebook. Details of this death must be written a short time after-"
"Wait. A name and a face, right?"
"Yes."
"Then how on earth could this Anti-Kira kill Ukita?" ranted Raito.
"Perhaps he knew Ukita?" suggested Ryuzaki weakly.
"No," muttered Raito. "Even if he did, it would have taken him a while to recognize Ukita's face from a distance. Do you think… this Anti-Kira can see peoples' names as well?"
"That is a possibility," mused Ryuzaki.
Perfect.
Just abso-fucking-lutely perfect.
Of course, the revelation held no relevance to Kira. If the shinigami didn't tip its Anti-Kira off, he couldn't possibly tell who Kira was simply by examining his name. Raito was 'Raito Yagami.' Not 'Kira.'
Raito wondered how this Anti-Kira came across the ability to see names, though. He asked Ryuzaki about it, but the mini-death was just as clueless as he was. He ventured a hypothesis about shinigami eyes, since they could see peoples' names, faces, and lifespans. The brunette filed this information in the back of his mind.
----
L and Raito were in the midst of walking back home after a short visit to Mikami's. L could only stand the stagnant atmosphere for so long and he secretly hated being anywhere in Ryuk's vicinity. The shinigami had yet to openly show himself, yet L deeply disliked occupying a space where Ryuk had been floating about mere minutes before.
Raito hadn't changed his habits, however. He insisted that anyplace was better than college, and likewise anyplace was better than home. L could do virtually nothing to stop him, so he went along for the ride.
While Mikami worked his way up Raito's khaki pants (that bastard), he made small talk about Kira's actions a few days ago. Apparently, the NPA had taken Soichiro's 'armored van' comment to heart and sent one careening through Sakura TV's glass doors to halt the progression of tapes. The riot police were called in to assist in the evacuation of the building.
Raito listened to Mikami's ramblings with more interest than he obviously felt. L was bored to tears. He was glad to be out of that stuffy apartment.
L bemusedly hung from a wire and glared straight into a red traffic light while Raito groaned over the phone to his father. Raito was late for dinner (an unforgivable offense) and now his ears were paying the price.
No sooner had Raito snapped his phone shut, cursed the world, and stepped onto the pavement than a familiar sound hummed into the atmosphere. L glared queerly down the street.
It was that Mustang again.
The hulking, candy-red apparition rocketed uphill, shooting several feet into the air and sending frenzied bystanders scurrying for the walls. It skidded back onto the pavement like a skipping stone and spun out directly over the dotted center line. Once it regained its tremendous momentum, it roared closer and L's wire began to shake.
Raito had already ducked behind a traffic light pole, but L wasn't about to assume he was safe. He slithered down the wire and alighted at Raito's side in case he had to stop the car with his fists.
A very Patrick Swayze thing to do.
The car swerved and lurched. It locked its front tires and its back end went skidding into the intersection.
The car stopped.
Shimmering beneath the red traffic lights, the Mustang revved its engine and spun its tires. Both L and Raito squinted tensely through the reflections in the windshield. A shadow smirked in the illumination of its cigarette.
It waved politely.
And honked.
Really, really loud.
Raito adamantly refused to bring his hands an inch in the direction of his ears. Instead, he grimaced and narrowed his eyes as the blast hit him like a brick wall.
After it had scared all civilians within a two mile radius, the car slid into a fantastic doughnut and sped off to the hellhole from whence it had come.
The invisible man.
Raito muttered something behind him. "That has to be the idiot that called me. It has to be."
L shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps, but if he keeps doing stupid things like this, I assure you neither of you will meet face to face. Ever."
"Your possessiveness is annoying. Go away," suggested Raito.
"No," L refused.
Raito rolled his eyes and shook his head. L followed him home, keeping a close lookout on every darkening street. Raito was almost home free when that strange, roaring drone seeped through the darkness. L hurriedly searched the narrow street for cover, but found only streetlights and weak, wrought-iron fences.
Raito had a better sense of confidence than L. He simply steeled himself to the growing roar of the engine, turned abruptly, and waited with his fists at his sides. L slouched at his side and advised him against turning himself into an easy target. Raito raised an eyebrow in response as if L's frustration was wasted on him.
And it was.
Raito adamantly refused to budge.
The bright, bluish, halogen headlights of a speeding car swerved around the corner Raito and L had crossed a while back. The car rumbled closer and L soon raised an arm to his eyes in order to block the blinding light.
When he glanced back at Raito, the brunette was glaring about him with squinted eyes. Probably looking for unwanted stalkers.
Suddenly, the Mustang's incessant roar guttered into more of a choked purr. Its headlights dimmed and L could tell it had no intention of making a scene of itself. Quietly, politely, and smelling distinctly less of burnt rubber, the candy-shined Mustang trotted into the shadow between streetlamps and stopped.
"Odd," remarked L to his steadily glaring companion. Raito took a nonverbal approach to the situation and marched over to the muscle car with his shoulders thrown back. Puffing himself up and stiffening like a perturbed waterfowl, Raito glared into the windshield.
The glorified sound of a pop-top cracking a can open burst into the air. The driver's side door had been popped open. A silhouette ducked out from under the hood of the vehicle and jauntily strode away from the door. The cigarette it held in its hand glowed brightly and spread wisps of smoke spiraling into the lamplight.
Not waiting for the opportune moment, Raito grumbled, "You know, you could have just floated through the door."
"That's old-fashioned," droned a slightly smoky voice as a pair of dark brown, suede boots waltzed into the penumbra of the streetlight. A face about the same shape as Raito's haloed by a similar fashion of airy, dust-brown hair and masked with a peculiar pair of orange-lensed sunglasses grinned lazily at both of them. "Nowadays," he drawled, spinning his cigarette in his gloved fingers, "we death gods act more like people. Stylish, don't you think?"
Old-fashioned… shmold-fashioned.
Anyone crazy enough to wear an ensemble like that in public knew absolutely nothing about fashion. To top off the large, goggle-like glasses and black leather gloves, he wore the most fantastically horrifying red-and-black-striped, long-sleeved sweater imaginable. Over that, he wore a high-collared suede vest with white fleece lining. His generic baggy jeans were stuffed securely into his boots. Definitely overdressed for an urban area such as Tokyo. All he needed was a fur hat and he would have looked like he'd just stepped off of a jet from Russia.
A very clothing-confused Russia.
Kids these days…
"And who might you be?" L deadpanned.
The kid grinned and shifted his weight to one foot. He raised his cigarette in the air between his index and middle fingers. "Bond," he growled gruffly, "James Bond."
Raito laughed.
L seethed. "Fantastic."
"I know, right?" asked the black-and-red-striped lunatic. "And you must be L. My friend told me so much about you."
"Indeed," muttered L curtly.
Raito cut in then like the businessman he fancied himself to be. With a short bow, he introduced haughtily, "Raito Yagami. Pleased to meet you."
The dusty brunette humorously considered Raito for a moment. In true disregard of tradition, he took a long drag of his cigarette and puffed a smoke circle in Raito's face. Kira waved his hand around irately and coughed.
"Matt's the name," announced the strangely dressed mini-death. "Nice to meet you too, Kira."
----
Chibi Raito: Aaaand you're done.
Me: I know, right?
Chibi Matt: -appeared, liek, two seconds ago- You need to stop procrastinating, Swirly.
Me: Yes. Though it will never happen…
Chibi L: Any bets as to whether she'll survive college?
Chibi Raito: Five hundred U.S. dollars against.
Chibi Matt: Five hundred EUROS against.
Chibi Raito: Damn. Foiled again.
Me: Stupid American economic recessions. Makes me want to burn all of the Wal-Marts in Montana.
Chibi Misa: Muahahahaha!
Chibi Raito: You're evil, by the way.
Chibi Misa: But I'm so, like, good at it!
Me: Well, you've read, now review. I myself may be a horrible reviewer, but none of you want to be like me, right?
Chibi Raito: -cough- WHORE –cough-
Chibi Misa: For cookies, for candy, and for continuation! Review, review, review!