We went along with the ten demons
Ah, the fell company!
But in the church with saints, and in the tavern with gluttons.
Ever on the pitch was I intent,
To see every aspect of the pit,
and of the people that were burning in it.
39 days later
"I'll ask again, are you Kira?"
Raito's head fell forward and Tailor tipped it back for him.
"C'mon, none of that; you can sleep after you answer my question."
"I'm not Kira. How many times do I have to say it?" Raito snapped.
"Until you get it right," Tailor answered and grabbed him roughly by the chin when his eyes began to flutter close. "And if you do that again," he warned, indicating Raito's problem of staying awake, "I'm going to get angry."
They had started depriving him of sleep three weeks ago, and combined with the periods of starvation and beatings, it was no surprise he was more unconscious than awake most times.
"I'm not Kira," Raito weakly responded, head again sagging forward despite the multiple threats warning him against that very thing. He then went onto fall fast asleep, leaving Tailor to stare at the top of his brunette head.
With the tip of his boot Tailor kicked the chair that Raito was seated in. "Wake up, princess," he groused, but to no avail Raito kept on sleeping. "Man, you sure can sleep through anything." Nudging the chair again and scratching his dirty blond hair when he was not even met with a flinch, Tailor circled around to Raito's other side. He brusquely grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, and hauling him out of the chair by that hold, he tossed him to the floor.
Raito did not immediately move, but after a few seconds passed he began to rise.
"Are you Kira yet?"
Tailor rested a polished black boot on Raito's shoulder and pressed down.
"Not the last time I checked," Raito answered sarcastically, and for all his trouble, Tailor shoved him back down to the floor with his foot.
Raito tried to get up again, but a hand planted on his skull stopped him.
"Last chance, Princess."
"Like I know what you're talking about. I told you already, I'm not Kira. Are you deaf?!"
"Kind of. In my right ear," Tailor said, grabbing him by the hair as if it was nothing and suddenly dragging him towards the door by that hold.
Raito went wide-eyed and again tried to stand, but Tailor wrenched him back down to the floor by the hair. The door to the cell opened, and out came the ex-soldier, dragging a struggling Raito by the hair to meet his puzzled partner.
"What are you doing?" the doctor asked, and glanced down at the boy who was now panicking and trying with all his might to extricate the hand twisted in his hair.
"Taking him for a swim," Tailor said conversationally, his face completely unaffected as Raito dug his fingernails into his hand.
"He's going to get mad at you for taking him out of the cell without asking permission."
"Won't be the first time," Tailor retorted. "And anyway, he's been falling asleep all through my interrogation, so this should wake him right up." The ex-soldier grinned down at Raito. "Our hime-sama is like a cat: he hates getting wet."
"Let go of me, you psycho!" Raito shouted and fought even harder to get free.
"Do you need some help?" Hunde asked, noting how unusually energetic the boy was today.
"Nope, but you can go get me something to eat. I think I'll have my lunch in front of him today," and with that exchange finished, Tailor resumed dragging Raito by his hair down the hallway, one-handed and leisurely, like he had all the time in the world.
Raito was dragged to a place that he clearly remembered, the cold feel of the tiles and the staggering smell of bleach hitting him hard as he was pulled from the gray corridor and into an almost burning whiteness.
Practically two months of moth-colored rooms and Raito was hardly touched by the monotony, but the shower-room, no matter how many times he was forced into this place, it was always a fresh terror for him.
And the worse part of it all was what awaited him at the other end of the stark room. Raito stared at the bathtub filled to the brim, and what was normally such an innocuous sight at home, here, was transformed into a watery marble casket.
"Damn, you really hate this," Tailor quipped as Raito's struggling only intensified with each step closer.
"That's good to know."
Raito only had a split second to hold his breath before his head was shoved under water, the sound of his eardrums filling up so loud that it felt like his head was caving in. He was yanked up by the collar almost as quickly, but he knew his time under water was only going to gradually increase.
"From the last time you were here, I can understand why you wouldn't be too thrilled to come back."
Tailor shoved his head right back under and that awful noiseless throb assailed his ears again.
Close to a minute passed and he was finally brought back up.
"People can get used to the beatings, but they never seem to get used to the sensation of drowning," the ex-soldier carried on, "especially when a good percentage of the water they're drowning in is mixed with iodine."
Raito blinked; with the air hitting his skin, he could only now feel the sting in his eyes and nose.
"Those cuts on your face must smart right now, especially that one on your lip. Well, at least you can't say it'll get infected or anything like that, huh?" Tailor casually pushed his head into the water and held it down until Raito thought he was at his limit.
However, the interrogator was extraordinarily precise when it came to human boundaries and how much a person could handle. Coughing, Raito tried to get away as he was yanked up again, but Tailor held him down by the nape, pressing the side of his cheek against the cold rim of the bathtub.
"Let…let me go," Raito gasped, throat feeling like it was on fire.
"No way," Tailor said, and tightened the other grip he had on Raito's hair. "You should see the money that guy is paying us just to work you over. I mean, I would do it for half or even a quarter of that, but I guess when you're loaded monies nothing. Surprising too, seeing how he's just a kid like you. Man, what happened to this generation? Too much violent television programs, I suppose," Tailor said and shoved Raito's head under water again, bringing him up only after the expiration of two minutes.
"No more…" Raito implored, trying to breathe and not choke at the same time.
"But wow, what a curve ball," Tailor continued, as if Raito had never said anything, "I wasn't expecting Kira to be so frail-looking, you know? I expected someone…like me or my partner, not some guy who looks like he just got off a boy-band tour bus."
Raito felt like giving up. He really did, the words were right on the tip of his tongue…
"Though, I bet the girls are crazy for you, and eh, apparently so are the guys," Tailor goaded. "I don't really got nothing against you people, and I'm trying really hard not to look too deep into what's going on between you and my current boss, but a word of advice," Tailor hung his head directly over the water so a pair of russet-colored eyes were staring right back at him, "don't go after a guy who knows how to get in contact with people like me in the first place. Should be a general rule, you know, when you find convicts on his speed-dial," Tailor said.
He grinned. "Or can Kira not tell that he's being cross-examined by two convicts with government connections?"
Raito closed his eyes and felt like throwing up.
"That must really piss you off to know that, but then again that's half of my job, sweet-heart."
Bringing him to his feet by the hold on his nape, Tailor unceremoniously ushered him into the tub, forcefully submerging his body and then his head under water, like some kind of perverse baptism.
Raito felt that overwhelming terror that only crept up on you when directly faced with death; he felt it, yet, he had no way of fighting against it.
"Raito-kun…"
He swept a hand over his bare back and there was a moment of silence before, "mmh?"
"Can we talk?"
"Huh?" Raito asked, sounding more awake as he rolled over on his side. "I thought you'd be way too tired to start anything?" He smirked and ran a hand casually through his hair. "Even though I was the one who did all the work."
L sat up and rubbed his back. "As I give you the chance to relax, I think I'm entitled to the same benefits."
"Is that what you're calling it now? And here I thought I had you right where I wanted you." He stretched and drew the covers back. "Or are you misleading me?"
"I've been called a liar on many occasions."
"By who?"
Leaning forward Raito gently closed the drawer on his side of the bed, and as he did so, the full expanse of his back came into plain view.
"I suppose myself, but do not take the word of a liar," L answered with a smile.
Raito chuckled. "If you're a Cretan then I'll never figure you out." He turned his head in profile; something appeared to catch his attention among the white sheets, and with an easy motion of the hand, Raito brushed a condom wrapper to the floor.
He got up from his side of the bed and began pulling on a pair of boxers.
He then glanced back at L.
"You look like you want to tell me something?"
"Ah, I was wondering... there should be a patisserie somewhere around here. We should go look for one after you dress."
"And then what happens when you start casually walking out the door and everyone suddenly wants to know where you're going? You can't just decide to walk off like that when everyone has work to do."
"They will understand."
Taking a seat next to him, Raito reached out and swept some hair from his face. "I guess when you're L you can practically do anything and get away with it. It must be nice getting everything you want."
"Not everything, there's one thing that I want but how hard I try, I don't think I can ever get it."
"Are you talking about Kira? You shouldn't be so quick to get depressed over an incorrect inference or two -- and you know how much that insults me when you talk like that. At least pretend you're happy that I'm innocent."
L brushed Raito's hand aside. "For some reason, we aren't on the same wave-length today. I thought Raito-kun would understand, but it might be that my intentions are not as pure or developed to a point where things can be clear. Maybe I should try to explain this again when I have matured a bit."
Raito blinked. "Where'd that come from?"
"It's nothing. I'm simply overanalyzing myself. This is naturally a confusing time for me, so I tend to feel backed into a corner. If over the next few days I say something that upsets you, please do not be angry with me."
"Then don't say it," Raito immediately answered. "I can't get mad at you if you don't make me that way. But if we do fight we'll just make back up again, right? There's no harm in having spats once in a while. You don't expect things to always be peaceful between us. If anything," Raito smirked, "I think you deliberately start fights with me just so we can have make-up sex afterwards."
"Ah…you have caught me," L said with a blatantly guilty look. "When we are intimate after an argument takes place, I have astutely noticed that Raito-kun is especially frisky."
"I'm going in the next room now," Raito dryly responded, pulling on jeans that he found on L's side of the bed and buttoning up his shirt. "Everyone might be fine with it, but my dad will still want to know where I'm going, so while I'm talking to him, how about you take your skinny butt to the shower and get dressed."
"I enjoy the pet names Raito-kun has for me. They are endearing."
"Skinny-ass is endearing to you? No wonder you're so in the dark when we're having arguments."
Bending over him Raito lightly kissed L on the mouth and gave the detective a few mollifying pats on the shoulder. "Meet me in front of my father's room when you're done," he told him and walked over to the door.
"Oh, and L," Raito called back with a disapproving tone.
"Yes, my non-judgmental and moderately volatile cactus-flower?"
"This time don't just change into clothes and pretend you showered."
"I have been found out," L stated.
"Yeah, and I don't care how lazy you are, take an actual shower and not an imaginary one," Raito criticized
"Also standing under the shower-head for three seconds doesn't count," he continued as he shut the door behind him. "I have no idea who told you that was okay, but it's not. Three-seconds might work for dropped food, but not hygiene,"and even through the door, his voice could still be heard. "I thought going out with an older man was supposed to broaden your horizons. Someone needs to inform that reader's poll in 'Eighteen' that its subscribers are misleading."
……………………...
L raised his head from his desk and rubbed his eyes, and his elbow in passing contacted with the handle of a nearby tea cup, the white dishware wobbling, but coming to a stop when he rested his palm gently over the rim.
He had dozed for about four hours if the red-stick letters on the digital clock across from him were accurate. L rubbed his eyes again and hit a key on his laptop to remove the screen-saver.
He'd been looking in on Raito's interrogation when he had fallen asleep, so it wasn't far-fetched to think that his dream had been a result of that.
But could he really call that a dream? It had happened; they had talked like that once after sleeping together. Looking back on it now, it was hard to believe that not even three months had passed since that time.
Yes, not quite three months ago Raito had been so different...
Of course, his existing flaws had always been there for anyone looking hard enough.
He was a bit spoiled and way too dramatic when things didn't go his way. He was also bossy, and controlling, and took himself too seriously sometimes; and he was careful about it at the time, but he still came off as the most egotistical person L had ever met.
Raito was so flawed; and yet, L knew there was never going to be a person he liked more or thought more of than Raito Yagami. He knew that for a fact, because despite his patience, he would never sit through the marathon of lectures he could get from Raito if he weren't absolutely mesmerized by the person giving them.
Regardless of his warped personality (and that would have to be a pretty big regardless in order to look the other way), there were things about him that made his flaws almost bearable. Like the fact that he was very considerate: he noticed small things that no one else would, picked up things about people that he would use to make them comfortable in his presence. He might have used that charisma for the wrong purposes, but L had more fun playing House with Raito than he really should have allowed himself to.
There was a list of phantom good traits that Raito possessed, like kindness and friendliness. But did he only have these qualities when he needed them, was the question. Naturally left to himself, was he a kind and friendly person? Maybe not to the degree he portrayed himself out to be, but somewhere down the line he must have felt something for people, however warped he was in showing that compassion.
Then there were the definite things L knew, like how intelligent or sincere Raito was about certain things. He was confident and sensible and competitive, and that might be a bad thing for all the trouble it caused, but if that were the case then L would also have to censure some things about himself.
Raito was also so eloquent; he got things that L didn't about other people, and with a few sensible phrases he was able to bridge the gap between them.
L had never been very good at talking to people outside of an explanation, so when he found that certain trait in a person, he was very impressed by it.
People trusted Raito; they liked him because he always knew what and what not to say. He didn't unintentionally hurt their feelings, or make them feel isolated, or mistrusted.
And it all might have been a terrible lie used to mask his selfishness, and it all might utterly break your heart in the end, but at least it was something to hang onto, L thought.
There below we found a painted people…
Weeping
And in their semblance weary and vanquished.
They had cloaks,
With hoods lowered before their eyes
Outwardly they are gilded,
So that it dazzles,
But within all lead…
……………………..
He was lying in the corner farthest from the door when L came in, swathed in a white strait-jacket, pallor making him appear more dead than alive, and causing L to hesitate instead of instantly moving forward in his wheelchair.
It had been a month since he had stopped limping in here and had gotten over relying on something other than his legs. But that did not mean he enjoyed having Raito see him this way, and that he, in turn, enjoyed to see how broken Raito had become.
Turning the handrims on the wheelchair, L stiffly resumed forward and halted a few inches from Raito.
There were a few scratches under his jaw, a large bruise on his cheek, and a cut on his bottom-lip that looked like he'd been worrying it between his teeth.
L supposed the real damage lay not on his face, but under the strait-jacket and the layer of flimsy clothing he wore; and by the way Raito was lying on his side, rigidly, with a hand subconsciously guarding his stomach, it was obvious where the majority of his injuries lay.
Watching him sleep for another minute or two, L found himself particularly staring at the cut on Raito's bottom lip, red from probably a punch that had caught him wrong and ended up re-opening it.
Running his thumb absently over his own bottom lip, L continued to stare at it with no particular reason in mind, until his hand, appearing to have a will of its own, reached out impulsively towards Raito's face.
"Don't touch me."
At the clipped measure of his voice, L's hand immediately halted. He noticed that Raito was icily watching him through the dense locks shadowing his eyes, and withdrawing the hand that had offended the brunette, L rested it innocently on his knee.
"I'm only checking your injuries; you have no need to get so defensive with me."
Raito did not say anything, but as L sat there, he could feel his eyes calmly roaming over his face.
Unlike him, whenever Raito watched people he did not have a tendency to openly stare at them. But when he did choose to, L could not help but always think how intimidating it was. His eyes were so subtle; they moved as L would have described a snake observing its prey: almost frigidly motionless so as to seem harmless, but in reality aware of everything that flitted past them.
This was the stare of someone that had dreamed of becoming a god and had been closer to obtaining his ideal than any other human being in existence. If L wasn't so intensely fascinated with Raito, he would have thought twice about sitting so close to him.
He wasn't necessarily frightened of Raito, but he was the only person who had ever posed a threat to him. Of course, he had more enemies than even he could flush out, but Raito had actually gone after him, toyed with him a bit, watched him flounder for evidence, and then using his own knowledge against him, was able to manipulate him right into a scenario that would permanently take him out of the picture.
If Watari had arrived a second later, L had no doubt he would have died that day, shot point-blank by a gun and by a person that would in turn be used as he was and then discarded.
No, L wasn't scared of Raito, but it was only natural to feel unease in front of someone who had come so close to killing you.
"You wanted to see me?" L asked, getting to the point of his visit. He was no longer prone to daily basis visits, as their arguments were usually so bad that a few days were necessary for things to calm back down betweem them. L could admit that he was taking out his frustrations on Raito, but he only thought it was fair, as Raito appeared to have no problem returning the verbal abuse, and with interest.
And being as mentally sensitive as a cement block come most days, L could handle himself against the insults; although, it did not stop him from thinking that there was a high likelihood that Raito could make a grown man cry with that mouth of his.
"You wouldn't demand an audience with a person you despised, unless it was important."
Raito began to sit up. "Then it's pretty obvious what I'm about to say."
"No, I'll only consider it obvious when you actually say it," he clarified, staring at him with an unflinching focus, one that Raito had no problem mimicking as he calmly studied him in return.
"Then I'll agree with you that it's obvious that I'm Kira."
L flinched despite this already being an established fact with him; from the corner of his eye he could clearly make out the camera to his right, fully functioning and in no way obstructed.
"I do not enjoy how you approached me with this," L admitted, meanwhile gazing around the room openly and stopping on each camera that he had yet to visually check. "You're going to get the death penalty and your decision to talk now will not change that."
"Obviously," Raito snapped. "I'm not doing this because I think you'll grow a heart all of sudden, Mr. Scarecrow."
"Raito," L said in a warning tone before he could stop himself, "If you are unwisely planning something behind my back, I will send you to the electric chair without another word. My priority is always neutralizing the threat that your continued existence poses to me and everyone around you, not in attaining the location of that notebook. Do not give me a reason to send you to your grave earlier than intended."
"And you're always calling me the scary one," Raito pointed out and rested his head back against the wall. "I'm getting really sick of this place and you, and the only reason why I'm being so accommodating right now is because I can't take this crap anymore, so if you're going to be paranoid listen to my side and then do whatever the hell you want."
"You would have instantly told me the location of the notebook if you really felt that way," L said.
Raito narrowed his eyes at him. "I never said anything about that so stop getting ahead of yourself. I'm merely sick of being starved to death, so in exchange for a little honesty, bring me something to eat."
It was understandable that Raito was at his limit and that he wanted something to eat. It was also understandable that to assure he would not be turned down from his demands, Raito was willing to talk to him and give him something in return. But that was as far as any honesty between them would go, because Raito would never willingly reveal the location of the murder-notebook to him. That was the only string of information keeping him alive at this point and he would hang onto it like a lifeline.
"I specifically remember explaining to you that we do not have a bartering system set up between us," L pronounced.
"Then make one up," Raito concluded. "I've said I'm Kira, but I haven't given you the lengthy, sobbing confession that I know you want; neither have I given you any convincing dialogue on my part that I am, in fact, Kira. Any person, under the right circumstances, can confess to a crime. There's the obvious fallacy that comes with torture as a method of information-extraction.
"You know that, I know that, every single policing agent throughout the world knows it. So unless you want me to give you a proper confession, you'll go get me something to eat now."
L felt irritated despite this being the scenario he wanted.
He knew that he would eventually drag a confession out of Raito, but despite being at his limit as he was plainly suggesting, Raito would find some way to continue being stubborn if L denied him food.
L did not like to be kept waiting, but it was obvious that he would be met with resistance when he refused to use more aggressive tactics on Raito. If he had really wanted to get information at any cost, he would have allowed Tailor to start slicing off fingers and other body-parts like the other man had suggested.
Raito would have talked then, but something about that did not sit too well with him. L might have grown bitter towards Raito, but he still had his own humanity to consider and protect. He would break Raito on his own terms.
But right now, he was not in the mood to wait any longer for his answers. Raito, despite the attitude he was copping with him at the moment, would be much more agreeable when given what he wanted.
L glanced over at the two-way mirror.
If he did this, he would be throwing weeks' worth of work back in the faces of the two men he had hired. They would surely be pissed at him if he said yes to Raito. Trust in business matters was a hard thing to come by despite money's influence, and he had already given them enough to question when he had let them overhear his private matters with Raito.
But then again, L had never made it a habit to deny himself of anything he particularly wanted, especially when it came to Raito.
"Do as he says," L said to the camera across from him. He waited to hear the tap against the two-way mirror, a sign of agreement that the men on the other side of the room acknowledged what he was about to do.
It came after a minute.
L did not say anything and kept his eyes on Raito, who had begun to shift away from the wall, attempting to get the buckles on the straitjacket to give a little by putting most of his weight forward.
"Take this thing off of me," he suddenly insisted, struggling to get free.
"And why would I do that?"
"Because I can't properly eat like this." Raito struggled some more, but stopped when L continued to passively stare at him. "Do you need another invitation?"
It was amazing how months could pass under unlivable conditions and Raito could still retain his snobbish attitude.
"I can always feed you," L answered, smiling as Raito gave him a displeased look. "You ask me to let you go, yet how I am guaranteed that you will not do anything ungentlemanly towards me?"
"You're just going to have to trust me," Raito plainly voiced.
L looked at him very closely. He stood up from his wheelchair and carefully lowered himself to the floor, surprisingly taking a seat in front of Raito.
"I do not trust you, I will never trust you, and using that kind of rhetoric with me will get you nowhere." Leaning forward L hooked a finger in the top-most buckle located at the back of the strait-jacket,"But listening to you does not necessarily mean that I have to trust you."
L fingered the strap open and moved onto the next buckle, all the while keeping eye contact with Raito and continuing to brusquely unfasten each bind. It had been a long time since they had been this close to one another and L tried to limit the contact between them by keeping a brisk pace.
In no time at all he had reached the fifth buckle, the one pinning down Raito's left arm to his chest. He undid the strap and watched Raito pull his arm back to its corresponding side, resting it down and wincing when blood began to flow through it again.
L gazed down at the now free arm, and in response to this attention, Raito raised his hand and gently rested it on L's shoulder. "You can't complain if it's within plain view."
"No, I can't," L agreed, and intently focused on undoing the next strap that would release Raito's other arm. But for some reason, despite being no different from the rest, the sixth strap turned out to be more hassle than the Gordian knot. The metal catch inserted into the leather strip would not budge, and bringing his other hand around, L insistently pulled at it.
"If you weren't so tense you would have finished by now," Raito helpfully pointed out, and L felt himself involuntarily clam up at those words and the very unwanted memory that it recalled within him, or more appropriately with a certain part of his anatomy.
Raito hissed and L could practically feel the nasty look thrown his way when he accidentally dug his fingernail into the brunette's lower back. Glancing up, despite his gut telling him to avoid eye contact at all cost, L found Raito staring down at him with a rather severely blank look instead of the open aggression that he had been expecting.
Raito suddenly narrowed his eyes at him.
"You smell like cake."
L did not really know what to say to that. "It's Peach Glazed Savarin."
Even through the restrictions of the straitjacket's stitched-sleeves, L could still feel Raito's hand tighten on his shoulder.
"I had two slices," L found himself saying for no reason at all, as he noticed Raito moving his face unnervingly closer to his before completely disregarding his personal space and nonchalantly kissing him.
Raito smoothly placed the hand on his shoulder behind his neck to keep from getting away, not that L had any sudden overwhelming urges to escape mind you, especially not when Raito slipped his tongue past his lips and did something with it that made him feel like he was about to explode.
An intense minute later and Raito released him without a word, indifferently leaning against the wall and one-handedly undoing the last two buckles with remarkable finesse.
He pulled the straitjacket over his head heedlessly, mussing up hair that was still so much tidier than his own, and with a disdainful flick of the wrist Raito tossed the jacket to the side.
"Don't hold that against me," he said and rubbed the arm that was finally released.
"I won't," L mechanically responded, scooting a few paces away so his body could naturally calm down.
There was a long silence before the opening of the door interrupted it and Tailor walked in with a tray. He didn't necessarily look as mad as he should be noting what L had just let Raito do, so it was pretty safe to say that he had not been here to see them shamelessly making-out with each other. On the other hand, it was too much to ask that the doctor had missed it as well.
At least his misconduct, L thought, was completely worth the talking to he would have to sit through later.
………………………….
After watching Raito take his time with a full-course meal, and hearing Tailor snidely comment on abstaining from giving the mass-murderer chop-sticks or utensil-ware of any kind, not to mention a few more well-aimed barbs, the ex-soldier then gave him a lax salute and headed towards the door.
And as L watched him go, he could not help but think how annoying an interrogator Tailor was.
He had obviously chosen well.
"Are we happy now?" he asked Raito.
Raito did not answer and stretched.
"You're not thinking of making any more requests, are you?"
"I don't see why I shouldn't," Raito responded and rubbed the bruise on his cheek. "But if I were to do that or go back on my word, you'd call that prick in here again. I'm not in the mood to be roughed up so soon after a meal."
"Yes, I figured that much," L said and settled himself more comfortably on the floor.
"Plus we have some things to settle with each other," Raito said and L couldn't agree more.
"I haven't been fairly given a chance to explain my side of things and I think you, at least, owe me that much."
L gave Raito a "try-again" look and the teen ignored it. "I don't think I did anything wrong," he suddenly stated, and L chose to keep his mouth shut until Raito was better able to establish his opinion.
"I don't see what's so wrong with wanting a world that punishes criminals, or that makes examples out of them for that matter. What I've done isn't so different from what you've been doing all your life.
"The only thing that separates us," Raito said with a smile, "is that I'm just more effective at it than you."
Well, it did not take very long for them to already hit a road-bump.
"Effectiveness in dealing with criminals is not how many you can kill in one night," L defended. "It's how many you can rehabilitate and bring back into society as normal, working-class individuals that will better the economy."
"And I'm not discrediting attempts to rehabilitate offenders," Raito defended back. "If anything, I was improving upon it. I've only mainly gone after serious criminals -- those that show no signs of wanting to change, and by making examples out of them, I give the lesser criminals incentive not to act. It's not so different from what the court systems employ, but they simply hand out more passive life-sentences while I've actually been getting things done. It should be obvious why the public is on my side, more than it is on yours or the police.
L shook his head. "You might have won over the majority by appealing to a simplistic sense of right and wrong, and they might not see you as a tyrant, but you are still using fear-tactics to control a certain group of the population. I do not care how many people believe you are a savior, it is still wrong."
"Don't give me that bullshit, L," Raito snapped. "That certain group of the population is criminals! To keep laws in place, you have to use fear of the consequences. That's what the entire judicial system is based on."
"Yes, but are you the entire judicial system?" L asked. "Are you qualified to make these decisions for humanity? What exactly makes you think that you are the right one to judge a person's sins, and cursorily at that, before killing them without reviewing their entire history. Irresponsible, Raito, you are an irresponsible child that needs to learn the value of human life."
"And what the hell do you know about human life?" Raito laughed. "Sitting up on your goddamn throne and only coming down to investigate people through a magnifying glass. Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one that wanted some felon to test out your theories? Oh, and lets not forget Yotsuba, and how you were so willing to let them kill a few CEOs for evidence."
"I do not have to justify myself to you. You were the one that set all these things in motion; I was simply trying to clean up your mess," he asserted. "You killed people, innocent people who were only doing their jobs. No, I do not have to justify my actions to you at all."
"And you think I wanted to kill them?" Raito asked incredulously. "I had no choice. If I had made even one wrong move, if I'd hesitated for even one second…" he looked away and pursed his lips. "I had no other choice. You've made sacrifices for this case, so you should understand that I had to make some tough decisions. They were for the betterment of mankind," he moralized, "so who cares what I had to do along the way, in the end, I was right." Raito paused and stared at him so intensely that if L were a mentally weaker person, he would have instantly succumbed to that look.
"I am right," he repeated and the emotion in his voice was staggering in comparison to his usual calm and collected demeanor. "Didn't you see it? How everything was coming together so perfectly. Crime was at an all time low, people who had some injustice done to them were able to get the retributions they craved, even as far as politeness went, you could see how different everyone was treating each other. I don't understand how you couldn't see it. You're so intelligent, how could you not see the same thing I saw?" he rationalized and actually looked distressed over it.
L felt a cold shiver run through his blood at those words and the blind determination behind them.
"The only thing I see here is a murderer trying to validate his actions by passing them off as a 'duty' to his society. You're the same as those criminals you despise so much, but what's worse is how you are unable to see what you've become. I have a word for people like you, Raito, it's called hypocrite."
"Go look in a mirror before you start name-calling," Raito fired back. "The only hypocrite I see in this room is you. At least I attempted to make the world a better place -- what have you done? You only go after cases that interest you. Is that anyway to deal out punishment? They have to get your attention before you do anything? You're nothing more than a selfish bastard, L, and then you turn around and try to lecture me on what's right and what's wrong. I really hate people like you."
"The feeling is very mutual," L returned. "It greatly annoys me how you can say these things, and yet, while people were dying you were taunting me with cute little prison notes and generally having a fun time demonstrating how you could kill whenever you felt like it. Do not try to fool me into thinking you were doing this for some great cause; you were doing it because you were bored. Maybe you had some sentiment towards justice at the beginning, but when I embarrassed you on national television it stopped being about your cause and it started being about your pride."
"So what! I was a little pissed. I know I wasn't the only one."
"And you weren't," L told him frankly, "but killing someone in cold blood because you are a little pissed makes me wonder what would happen when you are really angry."
L could see Raito's unmistakable temper flaring up under the surface. "You were the first and only one to provoke me, so it's your own fault that things got as out-of-hand as they did for you."
"It is my fault that you shot me in the leg?" L asked and he could not believe the audacity that was currently being flung in his face.
"Nothing personal," Raito said flippantly.
"Wrong, very personal. You do not go after someone the way you did if you do not hold a grudge and intend to thoroughly make a fool out of them, you malicious bit—"
"Finish that sentence and I don't care who's watching, I'll make you regret it," Raito threatened.
L immediately did not like the route this conversation was taking.
They hadn't even chipped the surface and all they could do was bicker back and forth with each other. He had wanted to calmly discuss this, but it seemed like too much for today.
"We will pick this up tomorrow," L said dismissively and climbed back into his wheelchair, turning towards the door.
It would be best to leave things alone for now and then attempt this again when both sides had composed themselves. And as it stood now, they were both as composed as two tomcats with their hackles raised. If L had been able to walk, he was pretty sure he would have already started a fight between them, because as frustrating as it was to listen to this person, it was even more frustrating not being able to physically do anything about it.
Raito looked as ready to start something with him as he was, so it was clear his frustrations were reciprocated by the brunette.
"L," Raito suddenly called, and the detective turned around to see him brushing his bangs away from his face in a tired motion. "I'm only talking to you about this, if those two idiots behind the door ask me questions, I'm not going to answer them."
There was a knock on the two-way mirror that sounded indignant.
L let his temper slide to the back of his mind and addressed Raito as normally as he could. "They will behave themselves in concerns to this, but you have not brought up anything about the missing notebook and nor do I think you ever will if unprompted, so they will continue to do as they please."
Raito did not immediately say anything, facing away from him and lying down on his side. "What day is it today?" he asked out of the blue, closing his eyes.
L hesitated in opening the door. "The 28th of February" he answered, knowing full well that Raito knew exactly what day it was today.
From the other side of the room, L heard a short bark of laughter. "And here I thought you would wish me a happy 19th birthday."
L stared back at Raito and there was just something so immensely tragic about how he faced the wall, laying on his side, that proud back the only thing he allowed anyone to see of him right now.
"There is nothing happy about today" L said before he closed the door softly behind him.
1. Whited Sepulcher – a person inwardly corrupt or wicked, but outwardly or professedly virtuous or holy: hypocrite. fr. the simile in Mt. 23:27
2. The excerpt "We went along with the ten demons…" is from the XXI Canto, describing the journey to the fifth Bolgia of the Eighth Circle, which punishes corrupt leaders or politicians. They are immersed in a lake of boiling pitch and guarded by devils, the Malebranche (Evil Claws) and their leader Malacoda (Evil Tail)
3."I suppose myself, but do not take the word of a liar" "If you're a Cretan then I'll never figure you out." What L and Raito are jointly alluding to is Epimenides paradox, which is named after the Cretan philosopher Epimenides, who says, "All Cretans are liars." It's a problem in logic because of the paradox that arises from that statement due to Epimenides calling himself a liar, yet if he's lying about this, then he's telling the truth according to his statement…? (This is the kind of thing that makes people want to slap other people...)
4. "There below we found a painted people…" This is from Canto XXIII, the sixth Bolgia, which punishes hypocrites by making them listlessly walk around wearing gold-gilded lead cloaks. The guardians of the fraudulent (the Malebranche) are hypocrites themselves.