Disclaimer: My name is King, Emily Carr Art Institute people are assholes and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
I: The Problem of Evil
CH2
Raison d'Etre
Sheets... bloody sheets... no wait, sheets, clean, freshly-bleached sheets. Bed sheets. Crappy cheap nylon bed sheets, not the silk ones he had. Not his sheets. Not his bed.
Light sat up.
Shit.
Shouldn't have done that apparently, because his head exploded with so much pain that for a second there he actually thought the ceiling collapsed or something. He fell back into the starched sheets only to be attacked by sun, so he cowered away from it into a thick blanket.
So he was in a hotel, well a motel by the looks of it, and by the smell of these sheets, no he didn't get laid with no strings attached according to the original plan of the night. What the fuck was he thinking yesterday? Blissful oblivion during a heavily intoxicated daze, okay good plan so far, followed by happily waking up hell knows where with an absolutely killer hangover... What?
Light made a mental note to never drink again until the next time he got drunk.
Well now that being established, how the hell did he get here in the first place?
Somebody dragged him... that guy with black hair... what... my God!
Light sat up again with the identical result of splitting headache and extreme photophobia but this time did not dare to lie back down. Instead he jumped out, looking himself over, feeling at his wrists. His ankle hurt, and he knew exactly why it did, for God's sake he tried to kill himself!
His wrists were safe which meant he hadn't attempted re-suicide after the first attempt via drowning failed. This was good. Again, what the fuck was he thinking yesterday?
At a bloody Koi Pond near the library, too! Wasn't that thing like... two feet deep?
Light felt absolutely miserable. He glanced at the soaking bed and his own damp clothes and realized that no, this part wasn't a part of his dream: he was really stupid enough to try to kill himself in a puddle.
In Light's general opinion, suicide itself was a pathetic last resort for weak fools and in the manner he apparently preceded with it made it just that much more shameful.
Light swayed a little and sat back down on the bed having already classified the room vacant besides him.
Not that anybody would really be there; no psychopath in his motel room, no sir!
Oh yes, he hadn't forgotten that part of his dream, but as disturbed as he was by it, he preferred thinking of his own misery rather then recalling the vivid fragments of his cruel imagination. It was much easier that way; and it was a dream no matter how real it seemed than and how freshly embedded in his memory it was now. A dream, no more. Had to be: and Light himself was the living proof that it was just a nightmare; had there really be a murdering freak on the loose in his local neighborhood library park, Light would most certainly not be living.
A loud bang on the door made the boy's heart nearly jump out of his ribcage.
Oh for fuck's sake.
Get a hold of yourself Raito, there is no psychopath with an axe behind the door either.
But the knocking only grew that much more obnoxious so Light straightened his half-dump shirt and hair as much as possible and went to get it.
"Yes?"
His line of sight was spoiled by an obese, bolding man in his mid-forties, the kind you expect to heavily reek of cheap beer, cigarettes and semen whilst they masturbate over porn PayPerView everyday. His oily mousy hair was flipped to one side in a comb-over and gave an overall pathetic yet tolerable impression; though he obviously tried shaving with scissors that day. Despite this, he wore a suit and a tie. Hnn, thought Light. Your typical love-motel manager.
"Ah there y'are kid, din't think y'd walk but 'guess seasoned ones get used t'it after 'while... Anyway, see kid, we got a problem y'see. Y'see..."
It was obvious the man was trying to sound professional under both clear discomfort for both homosexuality he somehow linked to Light and the angry glare delivered by the later; he continued.
"Y'see, yer creepy bumper buddy ain't here no more and t'check he gave ma' clerk, well, bounced. Sorry kid, y'gonna hafta take care of t'bill yerself. Shame too, ya know how they are, get ya drunk, bang ya and then run, those cheep fuckers. Pick'em better next time kiddo..."
They day barely started and it was all going to hell.
Focusing on being pissed at being left with the bill rather than horrifying implication of the 'bumper buddy' who'd taken him to a motel (as soon as he paid with some wet bills, his wallet thankfully in its proper place, Light checked himself over and concluded that none of the implied sodomy upon his body had occurred, thank god), Light left.
His head still hurt like hell, but he at least dried the best he could and found some wet Aspirin. He knew he still considerably reeked of booze, his hair was imperfect and his shirt was crumpled but it would do until he got 'home'.
But perhaps worse than public humiliation of being imperfect, Light could simply not get over that unsettling feeling in his gut that something, something bad had happened. Something Light knew, something that happened at the Koi Pond, something really had happened despite its improbability. Light had a dream of what he thought was a gruesome butchery taking place by the Koi Pond.
For defense of the fact, he was wet, meaning he really was at the pond. He was taken to a motel by a creepy man, and the psycho he thought he saw would most likely be creepy because, well he was a psycho. Light couldn't remember his face at all... but he knew for a fact – in his dream – the man was a man. So it was plausible he was taken to a motel by the killer himself... and that was it for defense.
For Crown however, there was much more to be said. If he saw a murder, the murderer would defiantly not dump him in a nearby motel. He'd kill him. Light was alive. Was there a murder to occur at all, one might think a perfect site for crucification would be somewhere either hidden or much more public. Library yard fit neither. Light was drunk, and that pretty much spoke for itself. Light was also troubled – something he grudgingly admitted to, and his disturbed state of mind would more likely throw something like this at him then not. Imagination Light had plenty of. In addition, had the 'psycho' really been crazy enough to dump him at a motel, he'd definitely, definitely not show his face to the motel clerk. Clerk was given a check, which means she got a good look at his face.
Thus, through the hard facts Light was absolutely sure nothing at all happened at the Koi Pond other then his own idiotic suicide attempt. In other words, something nobody will ever know.
And this was why Light went straight home.
And by 'straight home', he of course meant he rather felt like taking a twelve-block roundabout that conveniently passed the Library. Because Light absolutely always enjoyed walking around in blinding sun and cold weather without a jacket, carrying an ego-sized migraine with less then perfect hair, horrible smell and crumpled shirt.
He also always did this when he had a very important mid-term paper he haven't even started due in two days.
And he was absolutely not checking just to cease that unsettling feeling in his gut. He would find nothing there, he knew. Hell, he wasn't even expecting to find his missing library card and cellphone.
Not that he was checking.
8888888888888888888888888888888888888
"And that's why I need to speak to my father now, Suzuki-san. I know this technically isn't allowed but as you know, we are having very rocky times right now. Im not sure if talking to him would help our situation at all, you know how stubborn dad is, but I really don't get to see him at all which leaves him available only when he is at work" despite his pounding heart and intense disturbance that was racing though his head, Light knew how to charm any girl and a thirty-something female officer stood no chance against him.
All it took was a pity card and a few compliments about her (very average) hair that she apparently dyed but Light didn't see any difference since the last time he had seen her at all but played the 'oh how lovely it looks' card anyway.
Surprisingly it had taken a lot more then he expected and he was sure it was not because of how scared out of his wits he was, though it contributed.
After a few more minutes, Officer Suzuki, a street cop, finally let Light go though the yellow Crime Scene tape surrounding the oh to dreaded Kanto Public Library.
A crime scene tape surrounding the entire library property including the park with the Koi Pond.
Yes, fucking yellow crime tape around the library. A crime scene, and a very important one at that because Officer Suzuki was unaware of just what was behind it, yet given strict instructions not to let anyone through.
An old acquaintance Raito-kun, a polite, modest model student going though rough times with his father (who was currently at the scene behind the yellow tape) and desperately wanting to repent could be given excusive rights of exception.
"Just don't tell anyone" She winked. "If someone asks, say it was Matsuda. He'll agree and think he let you though and than forgot."
Nodding politely at every officer that pleasantly greeted him without a second thought, Light made his way towards the Sakura tree alley and the pond; he could almost see it behind the library building now. That was where most of the commotion was as well.
A wave of sickening feeling in his lungs and his stomach threatening to turn inside out any time only grew, and oh did it grow faster then Light could fight it.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
No fucking way...
"Raito-kun!"
Matsuda, not now... The man had a nasty habit of popping up when for a culprit, it was the worst timing ever. This of course making it the best possible timing for police: simply put, Matsuda had incredible sixth sense and instincts and in the long run, this is what kept him with a job so far and won't leave him without one in the far future. This of course assuming the overgrown goofball took the hint the first four times and won't cause any major disasters ever again.
Light doubted this but still couldn't see Matsuda fired, ever; out of the entire Japanese Taskforce his father was currently heading, Matsuda was one with most enthusiasm; he sucked but worked himself so hard he was even with the rest of the taskforce still. Some of his idiotic ideas were actually the best possible solutions. Light admired creativity.
Matsuda also was the best shot in the whole department and held the record in firearms test. Light absolutely hated guns: they made him feel uneasy as perhaps spiders, vermin and snakes made feel some women. Not women then held up their skirts and jumped on high chairs should they spot a mouse; rather the women that fainted at the sight of a poisonous snake.
Guns also were something Light was absolutely horrible at: not only had he failed every shooting course he tried, he failed it so pathetically his father actually gave him a little applause after he first managed to hit anything other then the wall behind the target.
And the target was human-height, pasted on a large sheet of paper. It was also only ten feet away from him. Twenty shots later, Light finally hit the paper, not even the actual target. His father clapped.
After the incident, Light concluded that shooting was definitely not his thing, far from it even despite his undeniable genius at literally everything else, and anybody who could shoot decently received both his jealousy and uttermost respect.
Thus the secret respect he harbored for Matsuda was jacked up a few notches.
At the moment however, Light wished the ground would split and swallow Matsuda whole. He pretended he didn't hear the man and continued to speed-walk towards his target area. He could almost see it now...
"Raito-kun!" The man actually ran behind him now! Light increased his pace, but Matsuda circled around him and stopped right ahead in plain view so that Light could not miss his presence the third time he called. A genuine smile stretched the man's otherwise unsettled face.
"Raito-kun! Hello, what are you doing here?"
To tell or not to tell? To avoid making a fool of himself he actually had to see that tree with the body, but at the rate the day was unfolding, so far the chances that there wasn't one were extremely slim. Too many coincidences. Light felt like throwing up but held himself together.
"Matsuda-san, hello. Where is my father? I'd like to speak with him, it's urgent."
"Well, you can tell me and I'll make sure to give him a message; see he's very busy with er... the crime..." but catching Light's expressive look, he seemed to have come to a realization.
"Is about...? Oh. Oh. ...oh. Umm, see the thing is, I know it's important, the stuff between your father and you, but this is a very... er... high profile case, I mean crime. I'm not supposed to talk about it. Anyway, your father is over there" Matsuda pointed to the ominous Sakura tree alley with the pond "... and you can't go there. I don't think you'd want to either. And your father is real busy and I don't think I should go get him or at least..."
The man trailed off.
Light's glare made Matsuda shut up take a few steps back.
Light looked frustrated.
"Fine. I have something to tell you then, about your... case. I'd prefer to speak to my father about it though if that could be avoided, I would rather to not speak to him at all."
"The case? What about the case..."
"Raito."
And there he was as if right on the queue: his father, coming around the building with Aizawa right behind him. Not surprising, seeing as Matsuda was practically yelling his name at the top of his lungs earlier.
What he saw however, made him feel edgy in a completely different way. Unshaved for days face and deep wrinkles on his forehead, bags under eyes and same unsettled expression he saw on Matsuda's face minutes before aged his father ten years. Deep inside Light knew he was partly to blame for this but pushed idea aside: there were much important matters to be taken care of.
"Father."
The father and son stared at each other for a full minute. A lot was to be said, but neither spoke, both bearing grudges against each other, both too stubborn. Like father like son after all. Though Light knew Soichiro had no idea what this was about, the older man sure as hell knew Light wasn't about to apologize.
"You look like hell." His father stated.
"So do you."
"I was working for two nights straight, Raito. Not out drinking by the looks of you. Though I'm sure you know what both are like by now."
Thanks dad.
"I hope you're not thinking I am here to make peace with you, father."
"Then what the hell are you here for?"
"Raito-kun is here because he has something to say about the case." Matsuda blurted out helpfully.
"Oh?" His father's eyes narrowed in rising anger. "And what I beg you can you possibly know about the case? Are you trying to do us all a big favor and offer your help? Im sorry Raito but if you want respect and reputation perhaps you should first earn it, starting by not coming here looking like that!"
His father was boiling.
So was Light. The bastard... how dare he...
By this time, Matsuda cautiously retreated to where Aizawa stood safe ten feet away.
"Look" Light suppressed yelling and instead his voice came out as low, even though somewhat shaky tone. "Is there, or is there not, a dead body on the second Sakura tree behind the pond?"
It then became deathly silent; the only noise for miles around them seemed to be Matsuda choking on something, probably air.
"Leak..." his father roared "who told you?"
"Nobody. I've seen it"
"Seen it? You're not close enough to seen it! Who the hell told you?"
"I've seen it happen." Light's knees went a little weak as he admitted it to himself for the first time. He'd actually seen it happen.
"What! Nonsense! Who told you boy, and stop lying this instant!"
"I'm telling you –"
"Yagami-san!"
It was Mogi this time. Running towards them. Running, and that was saying something; Mogi was a very calm, impulse-free man.
He looked very uneasy down to the core definition of the word and when he spotted Light he stopped right in his tracks, the unease in his bulky features increasing still.
"What is it, Mogi?" His father's attention shifted as well; clearly Mogi running was quite a reason.
Mogi never did break eye-contact with Light.
"The sidewalks and bridge get swept and cleaned every Friday night. The caretaker says he'd done it. This..." Mogi hesitantly handed an evidence bag to Soichiro, "... must have gotten there sometime after the midnight of today."
Unwillingly, Light stepped closer, Matsuda and Aizawa right behind him.
And then from the plastic evidence bag, Light saw himself, brightly smiling from a library card, right next to his cellphone, the tiny machine dead and the front screen frozen at when it must have hit the water: Three forty- four AM.
Nobody said a word.
The Japanese Taskforce headquarters were just as Light remembered it, but only as far as the actual structure of the space went. Otherwise it was in total chaos, one far beyond regular disorderly detective life. Desks, usually invisible under the piles of paperwork each member sponsored on regular basis were double or even triple of what it used to be, creating moderately-sized mountains of offensive documents. Some were moved together, totally distorting proper geometry of the large studio-like room. Floor wasn't much better off, usually maintained by the genitor, and now gave an impression that no one cleaned for months though in reality Light realized it must have been less then a week. Rubbish and little balls of discarded paper, crumpled in frustration and tossed as far as a little ball of paper would fly, countless paper cups with brownish coffee residue slowly mellowing on their sides and stacks of important documents that couldn't fit on the decks. The usual tasteless artwork purpose of which was never really determined was gone and instead replaced with papers, maps, carts long fax scrolls and alike, all pinned down or badly taped up – some were written on with markers and when the space on the page ran out, writing freely trailed off the paper onto the actual wall with no restraint.
And somehow in the middle of the mess were people, swiftly maneuvering between the misplaced furniture and skillfully avoiding tripping on any rubbish on the floor, all carrying either another stack of documents to pile on top of those already on the ground or a laptop to wire to the over-wired mass of technology in the far corner of the room; apparently their makeshift power computer.
The room buzzing; everything seemed to either beep, ring, yell or make a defeated mechanical noise announcing that it died of overload.
Even Light, exhausted from sitting in a police car for seven hours until the select members of the taskforce were done with the crime scene and taken him in for questioning, could fail to gawk at the pandemonium. Aizawa, Mogi, Matsuda and his father seemed completely unaffected as if this was normal – this bedlam was perfectly fine and when they walked in thought the steel double-doors they expected nothing less.
Clearly all the rapid work that was happening in the middle of the mayhem was focused on one thing and not ten cases as it usually was. One case. All nineteen members were trying to solve one case, as quickly as possible and all the documents, trash and printouts were all about the same thing.
What in the world could possibly gather that much files?
This of course meant that all four detectives that were escorting Light were directly a part of it also. So was the dead man on the Sakura blossom by the Koi pond. Whatever it was, it required the taskforce's four best members (including their chief) on out in the field and on a crime scene. Under any other circumstances this was unheard of.
Whatever the hell it was, Light had a feeling he would find out, either it came from blabbering Matsuda of evening news: something like that couldn't be kept under a rug for more then few days, especially with an area of seven hundred-foot radius of yellow tape and nearly a hundred police officers at the scene right in the middle of the city. Oh, and it had to do with a very expressive slaughter.
A murder case? On this scale?
This was what aged his father so much; this was what made him so restless and old. Light knew it wasn't entirely true – he was to blame for his father's stress just as much as this the chaos. The strain of their relationship weighted down on Soichiro and Light felt bad.
...He was handed to an officer who took him into a questioning room with a large one-way screen mirror. Light was sure everyone was too busy to watch him from the other side anyway and didn't let it bother him.
It all went by like a daze anyway. He couldn't react to much, the weight of wha the saw finally settling in.
The woman that came in two minutes later, record time for a questioning officer had a pleasant and reassuring face.
A shrink, Light judged.
Nevertheless, she was nice.
He told her everything he could remember.
How he was drunk and somehow fell in the pond by accident.
How he woke up.
How he saw the man getting chained to a tree and butchered.
How he fainted.
How he woke up at the motel.
Because of course there were things nobody needed to know and had no relevance at all; his suicide attempt for one. He knew the shame would haunt him forever and he did not need anybody who could possibly find out haunting him along with it.
Overall after he assessed his story, he really wasn't much help at all; this made him feel like shit – went though that all and for nothing.
Got drunk, uselessly covered in a pond and hid while something of high importance was happening.
Officer Shrink didn't comment however, all she offered were comforting looks and gentle nudges to go on.
He was unable to answer whether the man took the bag with him, if there were any cars parked nearby, nor could he remember which direction the man left.
He could not give a decent description of a man at all. He simply did not remember.
Jeans. Black hair, dark eyes.
Heh.
He was in Japan for fuck's sake, everybody was fucking Asian, and everybody had 'black hair, dark eyes'.
He didn't come even close when it came to trying to work with a sketch artist.
It was nearly midnight when he was cleared (that much was a given anyway) and allowed to leave (on his father's accord).
"You're gonna know tomorrow night on the evening news anyway, we were pressured by media to finally release the situation... well, mostly by Sakura TV but yeah" said Matsuda who was escorting Light down the corridor, into the headquarters then out and into his car to drive him 'home'.
Figures.
"Well Matsuda-san, there won't be any harm in telling me just what I've gotten myself into. Better from you then news, huh."
Matsuda cringed as if speaking of the matter alone would bring disaster.
Well, Matsuda himself was a walking disaster so you can't exactly make it any worse.
"Well... you know L?"
L? Of course he knew L, Everybody knew L. L, the single most dangerous assassin without a cause. L had killed people, a lot of people and then made a show of it... L liked to kill rich people at no profit to himself. Most of the fat, selfish bastards he killed were either involved into a high-scale bribery scheme or were corrupt politicians and if that seemed somewhat noble, L didn't limit himself to just those, which in itself was horrifying.
He was wanted in over fifty countries with death penalty at stake wherever execution was practiced. Some believed L was an organization but evidence all pointed into a single-manned operation. L was invisible, elusive and there weren't a single record that could identify him for fingerprints or overall appearance. Simply put, there were fatalities but no killer. All that would link L to his victims would be a white, blank business card left at each scene with nothing but a large gothic-font letter 'L' on one side. It would be printed with silver ink on acid paper, exact compounds only known to police and used exactly in each card, thus it was quite simple to distinguish countless copy-cat attempts.
L was a genius. The letter itself was frowned upon, and in case of Japan, the name brought 'bad luck' because everyone was either too fucking superstitious, paranoid, or both.
Fortunately, nobody in Japan could pronounce the letter L anyway.
"Yeah, what about L?"
Light had a very bad feeling about this, the kind of feeling that screamed 'don't go into that dark alley' but curiosity to follow the adorable kitten pushed you forward.
"Well..." Matsuda was nervous. "Well... um, Light don't tell anyone until tomorrow night, okay? L is... believed to be in Japan."
...and as soon as you stepped into the dark alley, both you and your kitten get thrown into an unmarked black van. Now what was that feeling that told you 'don't fucking go into the alley'?
Light felt even sicker and his entire form swayed slightly.
"Hey, you okay Raito?"
Matsuda panicked. And when he panicked, he said a lot more then was necessary. A lot.
" ...don't worry about it! Okay, this is the second murder by him in Japan so we know it's him for sure now , but what you probably don't know that L lets witnesses go if they haven't really seen anything! You'll be fine, he never perused the people he let go! Aw dang I shouldn't've said any of that, please don't tell anyone! But it's all okay! Raito-kun, are you okay? Raito-kun?"
Matsuda kept of rambling for another few minutes while Light processed the information.
"So that's why you guys are letting me go?"
"W-well..."
"Matsuda."
"...L... well, he goes kill witnesses he let go... only if they are placed in witness protection or under surveillance... because that makes it look like they've actually seen more stuff then they should have... That's why it's really, really important to put you back home. Trust me it's the safest thing we can do for you. Please please please dont tell anyone, your father will maim me..."
"So I'm safe because I hid in a pond like a coward, and now when it matters, I can do nothing to help."
"Hey! Don't be too hard on yourself, I wasn't able to help out much either, I feel so bad so you're not alone...!"
Light said nothing.
"C-come on cheer up..! Oh sorry that's probably the worst thing I can say... eh. So, um... this is awkward... how do you like our new office arrangement?" Matsuda sucked at making comfort jokes.
"It's lovely, Matsuda-san."
"Yeah, I know we really messed it up, haven't we? But you know with the situation and all... all the big shots that are aware L's in town are freaking out, not that I blame them... we're in a bit of trouble with the office too."
"How's so?" Light asked absently.
"Well this whole nice investigation headquarters are not government-sponsored, but you probably know that already. It's privately-funded, and let me tell you boy is it expansive!" the detective was trying too hard to be cheerful for Light's sake, not that the boy noticed.
"Is it now?"
"Yeah, it's a real candy, too! But here's why we're screwed – and don't tell anybody – it's privately sponsored by Ryuzaki Rue, you know that crazy paranoid millionaire that no one gets to see because he thinks he'll get assassinated just by people looking at him? I bet he's real creepy too... but anyway. He likes to be in town when he has to upgrade something for us, he's got a few mansions in Kanto too I think... but yeah. We're upgrading the computers in the whole building next month, and we're getting that 3-D building map machine thing... and a helicopter. So Ryuzaki Rue, he's coming... well, his private jet landed an hour ago. If he finds out about L, we're so screwed... he accused us of being incompetent already and – not that I think we can catch L, but we are the best investigation team in the whole Japan..."
Though Matsuda was babbling, Light did not know this, so he listened patiently sorting out useful information from the rest of the garbage Matsuda spoke.
"...so he kinda expects something. He's real paranoid too, I think I said that already, so he'll be creeped out by L; there's a chance he can... cut funding."
A dramatic pause.
-
Out of the corridor they went back into the main investigation room, the one that earlier was swarming with papers and buzzing with various mechanized noises. Now however, it was silent, misleadingly so.
Everyone was crowded around a far desk in the corner, one where all phones were dumped. In the middle of the circle was Light's father, his knuckles white from his tight grip on the receiver. His brows were furrowed and he spoke in a calm, hushed tone as if trying to pacify the person at the other end of the line. The wrinkles on the old man's forehead told Light that the conversation was going unsuccessfully though he couldn't hear a word of it.
Light turned to look at Matsuda but the man seemed to be equally confused.
Mogi spotted them right away and made his way towards them, breaking the perfect circle around Soichiro.
"No hard feelings Raito, alright?" The bulky man meant it.
Light nodded and chose to stay out of the conversation.
"What's going on?" said Matsuda.
"Rue's on the line."
"So fast? Dang that guy got some serious ninja skills..."
"He... he knows he have a whiteness. Somebody leaked it."
"Aw, a leak just great... wait, what does he want?"
"Raito, you remember nothing, correct?"
Light nodded again.
"Alright. Do you know who we are talking about?"
The boy shook his head no, but before he could catch himself it came out in such manner that told the world he was lying.
Mogi rolled his eyes.
"So Raito knows. Matsuda."
"Dont tell the chief, okay?" Matsuda whined guiltily.
Mogi gave an inward sigh, giving up on the pathetic excuse of a police officer.
"Well, it's not too bad that you know, Raito. He wants to speak to you."
"Ryuzaki Rue wants to speak to me?"
"Rue's a bastard and he thinks he's capable of anything. Anything that we aren't capable of. He's very angry... Raito, don't let it bother you, but he's angry we couldn't get a description of L – as Matsuda probably rattled out as well – out of you, and he's absolutely convinced he can do it himself. Over the phone, apparently."
Matsuda looked ready to kill himself and Light was once again reminded of his own incompetence. A known trait of Mogi – kill two birds with one stone. Light could almost always stand against it but right now his senses and mind weren't working in his favor.
Light sighed, because it was all he could do.
"I'll talk to him then."
After much deliberation, Light was hesitantly handed the phone and put on speaker.
"Hello, my name is Yagami Raito."
The voice of Ryuzaki Rue was low, deprived of any emotion and so frighteningly even and solid Light had to take his time to process what was being said because he never quite heard a voice that could tell him so little of the speaker. But of what was being demanded of him... and oh what demands those were...
The voice sounded distantly familiar, and the fact that Light couldn't place where he'd heard that voice made state of mind collapse even further.
--
No member of the taskforce had ever seen Light so angry after the conversation. It was on speaker, and he was nothing short of being verbally butchered. After slamming the receiver, he slammed his knuckles into the office desk and screamed. Nobody ever held this against him: the boy went though a lot. Nobody ever blamed him for knocking a mountain of papers over, kicking garbage out of his way and ordering Matsuda to just take him home already.
His father looked like he wanted nothing more then just to hug his son, though the old man did or said nothing of the sort.
After that day, Light always wondered had Ryuzaki ever realized just what he had done to Light over that short phone call. A feeling of worthlessness – something Light, someone who never failed at anything and was praised for breathing more perfectly then the next guy never felt in his life.
But what this son of a bitch Ryuzaki did was nothing short of stabbing a soaring, hemorrhaging wound then twisting the knife repeatedly, digging in deeper. Light knew he was at fault: he also knew he harbored enough self-pity and self-love that would help him cope, forgive himself for witnessing something horrific and being unable to provide any useful information on the matter.
To Light, death by a hand of a psychopath on a Sakura tree near a Koi pond was much preferred then being stripped of his pride and self-justification.
He, under any normal circumstances excluding Ryuzaki, would have given himself lenience even though nearly half of the taskforce unintentionally rubbed the shame in. He honestly could deal with that.
But this Ryuzaki... god, has he ever hated anyone with such passion. Perhaps unintentionally so, perhaps even the man thought he was addressing a simple-minded college kid to whom it won't make any difference, but Ryuzaki Rue absolutely destroyed any composure and resolve Light had left. A normal college kid would have none left in the first place.
And the bastard had managed to do so over the phone. To a degree, Light was relieved that he would never have to see Ryuzaki Rue in person.
That man was capable of taking anything and anybody apart into little, hollow pieces.
With these thoughts and pale, blank expression Light made his way out of Matsuda's car and into his apartment building. He didn't remember climbing the stairs or unlocking the door or passing his tiny livingroom.
He looked around absently as if he hadn't been here for years. No cobwebs or dust, no evidence of this sort was present. His computer sat on top of his small desk, right next to his bed with silk sheets, the boxers and the shirt he slept in folded neatly on top of the plush pillows, his Quartz watch sitting on top of the bedside table, his dresser and ten pairs of perfect shoes, all patiently waiting for their owner to return for over thirty hours now, ever since he left for that bar at seven at night two days ago.
Light swayed. The nausea that stalked him was finally set to roam free and he barely made it to the bathroom before grabbing the edges of the toilet and heaving violently. He ate nothing but police-intended donuts and coffee in the past 24 hours, so his vomit felt like acid, blazing up his throat, into his mouth and out. It physically hurt more then it should have.
Hollow just as empty, Light sank on his knees next to the toilet for a minute, then got up, flushed the mess, brushed his teeth and without as much as undressing or at least a shower, collapsed into his sheets on his bed, and cried.