Best Laid Plans
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata, and Viz Media. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities.
This story contains details and background stories I have given to individual characters. As a result, any character details that differ from canon are the result of my background stories and not a lack of knowledge about canon. Any comments correcting me or debating with me on this will be deleted without reply.
Chapter 10: Moment of partial truth
November 23, 2004
Tokyo
6:04 a.m.
A hot forehead usually felt a little better upon gently meeting a cold surface, though when that surface was the side of the toilet tank the sensation was a little less relaxing. Regardless, it was serving its purpose in a manner that was a bit more comfortable than its previous role.
Misa wanted to get up and swish with a whole bottle of mouthwash, but her throbbing skull kept her seated on the floor. Her flannel pajama bottoms were doing little to keep her legs warm against the linoleum, she would only be able to tolerate the cold for as long as she could stave off the dry heaves but it would only make matters worse. All she could smell was the nasty combination of wine and ramen that had been making a slow exodus from her stomach for the past half hour.
She was glad she remembered stumbling back to her apartment alone and passing out when she got in. The scrapes on her knees from tripping out of the cab confirmed her mental story and she did remember the circumstances behind her ending up this way even if her brain hurt. It involved a meet-and-greet with photographers, models, and ad reps, wining and dining, the usual bit. It wasn't exactly a mystery how she ended up a retching mess on the floor the next morning. The mere thought that she could have done something embarrassing to ruin her reputation made her curl tighter against the toilet.
This was her safe place; nice, quiet bathroom. Nothing existed beyond these walls, no one else cared about her. This was her world, her nice quiet place away from everything.
She had spent too many mornings like this after mom and dad died. A bottle of wine or a few shots of vodka or a few beers in whatever combination would make her forget anything for at least a few hours. The next morning the horror would return like a rain of glass shards; she could never drink anything away, it would come back with a raging vengeance.
She would always steel herself in a small corner in the bathroom of wherever she would wake up hoping she hadn't screwed up too badly though the nightmare would always find her. She was home, thankfully, and the only one in the apartment save for Ryuk; though she sent Ryuk out after she woke up. She just didn't want to be bothered at the time, a decision she sort of regretted.
Regardless, she was alone in a nice, safe place. This fortification was under siege if only by the plain manila envelope on the carpet by the front door.
Misa whimpered and curled her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. Light was wasting no time before delivering what would probably be his last message. Somehow, she would be able to look at the message and know exactly what she needed to do; what Light wanted done.
She saw the envelope when she ran to the bathroom and it was still lying in its original place. It was larger than a regular mailing envelope yet about half the size of a memo envelope. Misa had only now thought of it let alone tried to guess what was inside, a thought that produced a slight gag.
She scolded herself for being such a little kid about this. All she had to do was open the damn envelope and look at what her Light sent. It was probably so stupidly obvious she would know what she immediately needed to do the second she saw it.
But what if that wasn't the case? What if she didn't understand it? What if the message flew right past her head and she never had any hope of figuring this out? What would Light think if nothing ever happened? He would be disappointed in her, he would be angry, he would think she failed him as a partner. Kira would think she failed him and dishonored her parents…but then wasn't it dishonorable enough to shove such a tragedy in her face?
No! Kira is god! Light is god! Whatever Light is doing is justified…like shoving this crap down her throat and expecting her to swallow it like ice cream when it felt like boiling acid? Did this all have a purpose? Yes it did!
This all had a purpose and that was final. One did not question Kira, but what if Kira was only human. Stop that! Kira is god! That's it, end of discussion! Those that challenged Kira deserved death. Those that failed Kira…
Misa put her head in her hands and whimpered again. Light wouldn't have given her this job if he knew she wouldn't be able to do it. If he were testing her, she would not fail.
Misa slowly pulled her head up with the realization: Light told her not to take any sudden actions, he told her to wait days before doing everything. He was doing this to give her time to figure out the puzzle. That had to be the answer; Misa had all the time she needed to solve this. If she solved it immediately, she would wait a few days before acting so as not to look suspicious. If she needed time to figure this out, Light was giving it to her.
She felt horrible for even doubting him.
Misa pushed some of her resolve into her legs and strained them to stand, hands clutching the toilet to steady her and brace her against the pounding ache in her head. Bare feet finally met the cold linoleum, only for knees to buckle with a passing dry heave. She swallowed hard and made herself walk forward, practically slamming open the door and facing that damn envelope like a knight facing a dragon.
She walked over to the envelope and reached down, getting enough strength to snatch it from the floor without falling over with the pain in her head. The contents were thin and light, but she did not want to even think about what they were until finally facing them. Misa then sat on her bed, a fingernail going to the corner of one opening and starting to rip. The fold of the envelope met with some resistance, but she tore through anything that got in her way. The envelope was finally open with the fold practically torn off, though she tore the front of the envelope open for good measure.
Misa immediately saw small stack of glossy photos, the first one a man in nothing but ripped shorts laying in a lawn chair with a book over his stomach, a cigarette in one hand and the other giving a thumbs-up to the camera. A large pair of sunglasses concealed his eyes, but she immediately recognized the scruffy beard and long, black hair.
She tore the envelope off and threw it to the floor, keeping the stack of photos in hand. Emil was hardly appealing in this photo; she first noticed the tattoo sleeves down his arms with images of dragons, vines, and skulls. Physically he was really thin, the hair on his chest concealed some of his protruding ribs but not all of them. Her face twisted into a somewhat disgusted look and she moved the photo to the back.
The next was also of Emil, this time in a beat-up leather jacket standing in front of a bunch of motorcycles. There was another man in the photo, a black man with a baseball cap and a handlebar mustache with a beer in his hand. She couldn't see a name on him either; a friend of Emil's who also died. She wondered if he died after Emil or before; what if this man died before Emil did? What if Emil had to mourn his loss. No, criminals only cared about themselves, that was impossible.
She moved the other photo, seeing another one just of Emil on his back looking up from under a car; t-shirt covered in grease with smudges on his smiling face. She moved to the other one. Emil was sitting in a chair at a table, an elderly woman with huge glasses in a pink sweatshirt hugging him from behind. He was reaching up to hug her back and leaning a face against her arm. There was no name on her either. His mother maybe?
Misa shoved the photo to the back of the pile trying to drive away the heat behind her eyes. She probably beat him, that's why he probably became a criminal. Or he broke her heart and he was better off dead anyway. Did mothers mourn criminal children? But then what if she died before…
Emil was actually in a black suit for the next photo, hair pulled back in a ponytail and clean shaven. Beside him was a woman in a dark blue dress, no name visible either. They clutched hands and stood together side by side with beaming smiles. Her black hair hung around her shoulders and she wore a lacy white headband. She was kind of plain looking, but pretty. Misa soon noticed the shape of her eyes and nose and her slightly tanned skin tone; she saw many models with these features. She was half-Japanese?
Misa took a closer look at the photo, seeing the rings on both their fingers and feeling a little more dizzy. This was Emil's late wife, the one who died in an accident a year before him; the mother of their three kids. Was this their wedding photo? Maybe she was also a criminal.
Misa shoved the photo to the back of the pile, stubborn tears starting to pour from her eyes no matter how much she tried to force them away. She recognized his wife in the next photo, both were in jeans sitting on their own motorcycles next to each other smiling for the camera. That one went in back, Emil was now putting lights on a Christmas tree. Misa could see a small child in the corner, though only from the back. A girl it looked like from the bright purple shirt and the pink beads on her hair tie. Shelly maybe? Little hands fed up a string of lights. Misa threw the photo on the floor as the tears poured down.
Emil was then looking down at another child who had an adult-sized motorcycle helmet on, blue sports jersey and black shorts indicating it was probably a boy. Misa only saw black hair and the corner of the boy's mouth sticking out from the helmet, not enough to see a name; was it Allen…or maybe poor little Liam? Emil looked like he was laughing. Another photo flew across the floor. He then was sitting at a table with a checkered cloth and various plates of food. Cheryl was sitting next to him feeding him a potato chip. The photo flew across the room.
Emil was sitting down in the next photo, the last photo in the stack, arms wrapped around a small boy in his lap. The child's face was framed by wavy black hair that went down to his shoulders though she could see every cherubic feature. Wide, innocent eyes looked at the camera, bowed lips almost serious.
The words "L Lawliet" and a series of numbers floated above his head.
Misa paused and stared at the photo, her tears slowing as she gave a few extra exasperated sobs. She could see the name this time, maybe Light wanted her to know who this was.
L Lawliet, why did the name show only an initial? Did he not have a full name? No, he had a full name; the realization sunk in and made her skin crawl. She looked further down on the photo, seeing Emil and his son sitting at a table; a chocolate frosted cake in front of them covered in pumpkin and ghost candies.
"Happy Birthday Liam" it read with five candles lined up in a row.
She stared at the boy in the photo. This was Liam on his fifth birthday sitting in his dad's lap. A year later he would be found wandering around the yard covered in his dad's blood. He would probably wake up to look out back and see…
Misa's hand dropped to the bed, her other hand covering her mouth as she wailed. She was done crying, she was sick of crying. Her wail turned into a grunt as she forced her hand up made herself stare at the little boy's name. Light wanted her to know this name…the name of a little boy who saw his father and future stepmother's bodies.
Concentrate, Misa, concentrate. Why did it say "L" when his name was Liam? Maybe his parents didn't give him an actual first name, maybe they wanted to leave it up for determination when he got older. Maybe the name was somehow erased in official documents and that was all he was known by after he as orphaned, but that shouldn't have made any difference. Shinigami eyes saw a person's real name regardless of if it was written anywhere else; the name needed to kill.
Somehow she felt like she had seen that name before. Misa searched her memory banks but could not pinpoint it out of the thousands of names she must have seen on a daily basis. Was Light trying to jog her memory? Why did Light care about this guy?
Would she have to kill him? Was that what Light wanted? Did he tell her this little kid's tragic story only to tell her he was her next target?
Misa's hands started shaking, eyes fixed on those cherubic features and that long, soft hair. She had to kill him? This little kid who found his father's body, would someone have to find his body too; his son maybe?
There had to be an explanation for this, Light had to be showing her this photo for a good reason. Misa remembered he was six-years-old in 1986, making him 24 or even 25 now. He was a grown man now not a little kid. Maybe he became a criminal like his dad, or maybe he did worse things.
What if he was an agent? Was he one of the FBI agents…no he was Canadian. Maybe he joined the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to catch other criminals and was now working to find Kira.
Misa analyzed that black hair and those wide eyes, another realization making her shake even harder. This wasn't L was it? Was this a photo of L when he was a little kid?
That had to be it, it made perfect sense! Light wanted her to know this person's name and this guy's real name was L, who else would have that for a first name? He had thick black hair too, she just needed to imagine it shorter and messier. L had to have been somewhere in his 20s, the age matched.
His dad's death made him want to become a detective, maybe Watari took him in; a poor little baby who was orphaned by killers, who saw his dad and stepmother…
No, that didn't make any sense! L's real name was L? That was stupid! But why did he have a last name if L was his real name? Why the hell would he use his real name as his alias, L wasn't that stupid.
If Light had L's real name, he would have wanted to give it to her a lot sooner than this to have him out of the way. Why would he have put her through all this lead-up to just give her L's real name? Light seemed more practical than that and he was probably aching to finally be rid of L. Maybe it was because he wanted to make arrangements for something and was stalling. But why didn't he just tell her to wait a few days from the beginning instead of after all these riddles and messages?
Why tell her his story if he just wanted her to kill him? Why did he share so much about a father if his son was their arch nemesis?
Light knew what this was doing to her, what did he think she would do if she found out she had to kill him? Unless he wanted her to learn to toss aside her emotions to better serve Kira. This was the ultimate test; she needed to overcome her demons to kill L. But why test this with L? He knew she would kill him without a second thought, why put that at risk; make her so crazy she could barely lift a pen? Damn him!
No, don't say that! Light is doing this for a reason; Light's not an idiot, how dare you say he is! Calm down, calm down, please; use reason. That's what Light would want.
She looked at the boy's features; the same color hair but his eyes looked like a watery blue, or rather gray on second inspection. Ryuzaki's eyes were really dark, or at least they looked that way. Five-year-olds didn't have the same features as adults, it could have been anyone.
Maybe killing him would be the most obvious answer, too obvious and she should know that. No, there was no way this could be L, it didn't make any sense. What if Light didn't want this guy dead, what if he actually had plans for him.
That's it! This guy's family was killed, he must have wanted revenge. Kira could give him that revenge, whether or not he was a police officer or a criminal himself. That's why Light gave her all those details, he wanted her to look past minor criminals and go after the really heinous ones. If Liam was a criminal, he could still be useful if he was willing to help.
Another light bulb went off in her brain, she shuffled the photos back to the one of Liam's parents and stared at his mother. She was Hafu, what if she still had family in Japan? What if Liam ended up living with that family, and what if he lived in Japan today?
Light wanted her to find this guy, probably to help with Kira's cause. Her stomach turned with another sudden thought; did Light want her to give away the Death Note, was Liam a worthier candidate to wield Kira's power? No, that was stupid.
No, wait; Light knew she was writing names down all alone while he was throwing L off track. An extra set of hands could help, she could give him pages of the notebook or maybe have him find criminals. They could use him to throw off suspicion and all of them could work as a team to ensure Kira's reign.
That was it, that had to be it. She needed to find this guy and recruit him. Maybe he was already a Kira supporter, maybe he appeared a few times on that news show on Sakura TV that was becoming more of a rally for Kira. Maybe he was on a few message boards.
Misa put the photos down and leapt from the bed, running for the couch and scooping up her Choco-Cat notepad and a blue pen. Her eye wandered to the VCR clock; almost 6:30. She had to start getting ready for her 8 a.m. shoot, make-up would take some additional time. Ryuk agreed not to be back before 7, but she almost wanted him here now so she could share her discovery.
She sat back on the bed and looked at the photo again; scribbling down "L Lawliet," writing "Liam Lawliet" next to it with an equal sign connecting the two.
She thought to text Light saying she figured it out, but it was better to be careful and wait a few days before saying anything. Maybe by then this guy would by her side ready for an audience with Kira himself.
5:33 p.m.
"The killing pattern has stayed relatively the same for the past two days," Light said, fingers tapping away on his keyboard and opening a graph on the main monitors.
A line took a few steady peaks and valleys, but the massive drop was obvious.
"Look here, the numbers have fluctuated slightly, but the line is clearly flattening out," Light said, positioning his cursor over the slightly flat shape.
Light looked back to see the rest of the Taskforce looking up at the graph, most nodding. Ryuzaki, however, repeatedly dug his spoon into his blueberry compote and kept his eye on the bluish-white mess of fruit and whipped cream. He was like a two-year-old who didn't want to eat and shuffled around his food, occasionally taking sloppy bites before going back to digging.
Light resisted the urge to roll his eyes and went back to his presentation. He had the floor now.
"This trend indicates that the Fourth Kira has taken a holding pattern of careful killings," Light continued, pressing another button and showing another graph on the side. "If we look at the victims, all of them are criminals who have committed very serious crimes. The new victims are mostly murderers, rapists, and a few involved in organized crime. I think this gives credence to Matsuda's theory that the Fourth Kira has a limited schedule and is likely a professional. It is a possibility the Fourth Kira might have realized his killing could become too obvious and decided to scale back."
"What if our new Kira had a change of heart?" Soichiro said. "He has gone from killing any criminal to only killing the worst criminals. Could we expect him to stop killing criminals in general?"
A few eyes turned to L, who took a few more hesitant bites of his fruit.
"I doubt that," Light said. "If the Fourth Kira did have a change of heart, he has to know Kira will not tolerate that. If he stops killing, Kira will probably kill him and give the notebook to someone else. But Kira also knows this is creating an obvious pattern. Maybe Kira already warned the Fourth Kira to keep writing names and not change his pace."
"But Ryuzaki said before this might be a pattern to get us looking the other way," Matsuda said. "Do you still think that, Ryuzaki?"
Everyone looked at L, who took a few more bites; some juice dribbling down his chin. Light narrowed his eyes in annoyance.
"Well what theory does everyone prefer to follow today," L said, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and not looking up.
Aizawa threw his hands up and sat back, Soichiro adjusted his glasses and shifted uncomfortably.
"Tell me again how this is getting us anywhere," Aizawa said. "My three-year-old daughter could lead this investigation with more maturity."
"And running around in circles isn't getting us anywhere either," L spat. Light heard a significant strain in his voice.
L took a few deep breaths, Light saw one hand clutch the edge of the table.
"Perhaps my previous viewpoint was a bit misaimed," L said, his voice becoming a bit breathier. "It is obvious there are at least two different threads for us to follow, but we need to be careful in how we look at them or else we will get tangled."
His arm slowly moved to his side and wrapped around his waist. Beads of sweat were forming over his forehead and he was starting to shake.
The uncomfortable looks were turning more into looks of concern. Light adopted one of his own that obfuscated excitement.
Was L having a heart attack? Light snuck a look around the room to see Rem still standing and looking on the scene herself with curiosity. Rem didn't write his name down, or maybe she had and death came slower for Shinigami. Or maybe Misa finally remembered his name, maybe that was why she was writing so few names down; she was setting the scene for this moment.
"R-Ryuzaki? Are you okay?" Matsuda asked.
Ryuzaki's breaths were now audible and staggered. He deposited the spoon into the bowl and braced his midsection with both of his arms.
"Watari, something's wrong!" Soichiro yelled.
L opened his mouth and a greenish mess hailed over his keyboard and onto the desk, some splattering across his shirt. Light jumped up from his chair and grabbed L by the shoulders, feeling him slightly slump forward. Light gently turned L's chair around away from the desk and moved in time for another wave to hit the floor.
L gagged and put his hand over his mouth, breathing heavily to calm his shaking muscles and tame his gag reflex. Light put an arm around his shoulder and a hand on his forehead. His skin was ice cold and coated in sweat. Light felt footsteps rushing behind him and saw dark sleeve move over to L.
Light looked back and saw Watari move into place beside L, putting an arm around him. Light slowly drew back and let Watari take over. L moved his hand and closed his eyes with a sigh, trying to get on his own feet but his legs were still shaking with the sudden surge.
Watari supported his weight and slowly pulled him up until he was able to stand. L flashed him an annoyed look and slightly pulled away, though Watari kept an arm on his shoulder. L looked completely humiliated.
"I'm sorry," L managed to say. "I just…I guess I haven't been feeling as well as I thought."
"Nonsense, you're ill," Watari said. "You're going to be of no use in this condition, you need to lie down."
L gave a painful sigh and reluctantly nodded, looking defeated.
"Ryuzaki, you've been pushing yourself too hard," Soichiro said, standing up and taking a few steps closer. "Go upstairs and get some rest. Take as long as you need."
"Yeah, Ryuzaki, get some rest," Light said, following behind Ryuzaki as he and Watari walked to the other side of the room. "We'll come up with some fresh ideas you can look over when you're feeling better."
Light forced his friendly tone against his disappointment. L wasn't having a heart attack, he was simply ill…or at least appeared ill. Light continued on for a few steps, but soon the door slid open and L and Watari were walking out of the room.
"Ryuzaki if there's anything I can do to help," Light said almost desperately.
"Light-kun, take over from here," L said. "Keep an eye on everything, document any new killings or additional theories. I won't be more than a few hours."
"You will be as long as you need to be," Watari said rushing him down the hallway and letting the door close behind him.
Following him wasn't going to be an option. He could try to monitor his movements, though the cameras were under L and Watari's control. Light stood staring at the door for a few seconds, though he needed to turn back to the Taskforce and continue working.
Was L faking this, using it as a distraction so he could leave headquarters to pursue a plan? Somehow that didn't make too much sense. L could control everything from one room, showing his face could put him even more at risk especially with him knowing that Misa had the Eyes.
Was he planning to meet with Misa and try to catch her writing his name down? That sounded even more nonsensical. Any surveillance camera could catch her writing a name down and, again, he suspected a Shinigami would intervene if he got too close without backup.
If he was faking it, it was a convincing performance; he really seemed ill. Then again he had access to any medication that could induce illness, though this wasn't sudden. He had been seemingly ill for the past few days.
Maybe the stress was getting to him. Light acutely remembered L's change in demeanor after he and Misa were released from confinement, though this seemed much worse. It seemed much worse because L was truly cornered and he knew it. Perhaps L could only hold his poker face for so long or he wasn't as collected when losing for so long. It did make sense; L had Higuchi and the Death Note in his hands and suddenly the stakes changed in the course of a few hours.
Regardless, Light needed to stay where he was and try to produce some more phony yet plausible theories to keep the Taskforce spinning their wheels. L was out of sight, but accusing him of faking it now would be a really bad idea. He could gradually introduce the idea in the next few hours, but it was risky. It was best to slip this card under his sleeve and play it later.
Fuel for later; it seemed as though that's all he ever had. Even the tiniest amount of fuel, however, could start infernos.
7:41 p.m.
They cooked the shrimp perfectly in a lemon butter sauce and paired it with the perfect cheese. The crust was just to die for with the white sauce slathered on it. It was hardly health food and hardly the food a model should be eating after a shoot, but Misa didn't care.
She took a big, luscious bite into the sweet, salty piece of pizza happiness and smiled. The Purple Café made the best pizza, but she would have to have some cake after she was done this; she needed to have some cake after she was done this. Today had been all about her.
Misa then looked down at her newly done black nails; the nail beds were so soft and her nails were so shiny after the pedicure she got after the shoot. Her muscles were still relaxed after that hot stone massage too, hopefully she would actually sleep well tonight.
She looked out the side window to see Ryuk still standing on the sidewalk watching people and cars go by. He said he would meet her after she got out, Rem was the same way whenever Misa went into a restaurant too. Maybe Shinigami didn't like restaurants, though she could understand the awkwardness of standing in a small space with people moving through you and the inability to have a conversation. She would have to order an apple tart to go and give it to him as a reward for being so patient.
Misa practically inhaled her small slice, turning back to the individual pizza and reaching for another piece. She would have to take Light here when they were free to go out for dates again.
"Mind if I sit down?"
Misa froze at the sound of the deep voice right next to her.
She grabbed the piece and slowly looked up, seeing a pair of baggy jeans, a black t-shirt covered with an black button-down with white pinstripes. That scrawny physique was still obvious as was the black hair reaching to the base of his neck, though this time pulled back into a messy ponytail. Wide eyes lined with black circles were fixed right on her contrasted by a polite smile.
Ryuzaki…L…standing right in front of her.
Her gaze went to the letters floating above his head and her blood went cold:
L Lawliet
Look natural, Misa, look natural. He's going to notice how you're looking at him!
She took a calm breath, but she couldn't pull her eyes from him. She couldn't avoid the subsequent mental image of a cherubic face framed by long hair and a shirt covered in blood.