Disclaimer: My name is King, GO CANADA IN OLYMPICS YAYYAA, and I do not own Blood Brothers, and I do not own Death Note.
Devil's Trill
IV: Tartini
CH27
Asunder
The cracked and trice-relined concrete of the road hastily repaired with miscolored patches that was long overdue for a highway expansion was losing its curvy turns and blocked pullouts. The concrete was fresher and cleaner the closer they got to the main city.
Before L realized there was no more roadkill and the last of dark concrete patches were behind the stolen BMW, the comfort bubble of an overpopulated metropolitan absorbed the car and its passengers, and silently, L breathed a sigh of relief and heard a similarly inaudible sigh of relief from his side.
But the highway continued, and before long the BMW joined a long and slow queue of early bird risers to pass a police roadblock right in the middle of the highway.
With windows rolled down but no more speed-generated wind blowing into them, the car became too hot and too stuffy in not too long, and before too long, Light complained.
L looked to his side where Light rested his face on his fist with the elbow of his arm balanced on the open window in with scandalously bored scowl on his face. The kind of scowl L had only seen in angsty pregnant women in Korean soap operas on TV.
L considered starting a conversation, or even a debate of sorts, that Light would probably not be interested in because Light insisted on maintaining his position in which anything said or done by L could never in a million years interest Light; it was even preposterous L dared to consider himself entertaining.
L could see how Light saw L in himself; the idea of this... this childish silent treatment Light was giving him for no apparent reason was something L would do should he feel particularly unhappy with a long drive.
Pretending to be disinterested in Light's disinterest, L carefully and slowly slid his hand down the leather interior of the car door. His fingertips brushed over the cool metal buttons and delicate nubs and slid along the smooth curve of the sleek elbow rest until he found four dimples and their edges of the master window control.
Then he closed the window right on Light's resting elbow.
"Whoops," he declared after turning and bulging his eyes out in complete surprise and remorse that Light's elbow was so unfortunately positioned in the window.
Injured and unhappy, Light still rewarded L with a look that accepted L's unspoken apology and switched the up-beat classical rock station on the radio to this most atrocious gloomy and out of beat country music.
L agreed with Light's music choice and acknowledged this by tapping the gas pedal and letting the engine roar to the beat of the nonexistent rhythm of the melody as it went along while holding down the brake pedal.
They went at it for a while.
The car queue moved up slowly.
With tinted windows finally closed and the air-conditioning on, the cool, crisp air smelling faintly of melting silicone made L realize his spirits were higher than they had been in days. Feeling generous, L tossed Light a red blackberry cellphone.
"My technological ban has been lifted?" Light raised an eyebrow.
L told him he was on probation that depended on how Light handles checking L's e-mail.
"You have three unread e-mails. Want me to read them out for you?"
"I would like a Shakespearian reading of them, Raito-kun, please."
"Alright. You... you are a lucky beneficiary of a Nigerian inheritance in the sum of twenty-four million British Pounds, but you need to contact them with your social security and credit card information pretty soon or else someone else will claim it. Huh... L, you never told me you were Nigerian."
"I am pure-blooded Nigerian five generations down; I have a very pale complexion Raito-kun. Next message please?"
L swore a snicker passed Light's face for a moment, and L felt one creep up his face as well.
"The second e-mail. 'crime stoppers doesnt air in london i checked internet so im going 2 the states so i can c u on tv and laugh at u. enjoy prison food.'
"Heartfelt," L proclaimed.
" 'ps: ur an asshole.' "Light continued.
"Thank you for that."
" 'pps: i hate u.' "
"Of course."
" 'ppps: ok i didnt mean any of that, ill c u in london. -m.' a winking emoticon at the end of that," Light finished.
L didn't justify that with a reply.
"Next please."
Light opened the next e-mail and huffed.
"Seriously people, haven't you heard of basic grammar!"
"What is it?"
"It's titled 'freebottle get a blgger penls' for God's sake!"
"Ah. That is from-"
"From Matt, yes I know, I got one myself."
"Oh?" L raised an eyebrow, "how terrible was it?"
"Terrible," Light looked like he swallowed his own vomit and grimaced once he opened the e-mail. "Oh God. Okay, it basically says that our car is now registered in the name of Ryuzaki Rue."
"That is not my Shakespearian reading, Raito-kun!"
"Oh hell no, I am not reading that."
"Raito-kun, please read."
"No! Why would he register our car to someone who's diseased?"
"Matt works in mysterious ways, Raito-kun."
"Whatever. That's your last message. Does your phone have Tetris?"
The car queue ahead of them was shortening at an incredibly slow phase.
"No, it does not have Tetirs. And Raito-kun?"
"What is it, Ryuzaki-san?"
L turned and looked at him.
"I am sorry."
Light rolled his eyes and looked for the Tetris application and probably found it.
"For what? And by that, I don't mean you didn't do anything. I mean, what atrocity you decided to apologize for this time around. Just so that I know you already apologized for it when you do it again."
"I am sorry about last morning."
"You swore you won't talk about that."
"For something else."
"For what?"
"For – and Raito-kun will not start chortling like a gargoyle again as I say this – not kissing you at all when we had sex. Twice in a row, now."
Light though about it for a moment, recalled the sex and grinned.
"I don't care," said Light smugly, and L supposed he was silently glorifying himself.
Somehow letting Light win this one wasn't repulsive to L, considering L hated to lose even something as trivial as a half-argument argued for argument's sake. He didn't mind Light firing hurtful things because L didn't feel as affected by the things that were said as he was before.
And before, whenever Light did something outside of the box L had built around him, it bothered L and made him furious that the enormous box of morals and complicated personality and a brilliant mind could not contain everything Light was capable of.
Ever since last morning, the morning Light had shown L something so private that it was indecent, L realized what Light wanted – what he really wanted, and it ventured so far outside of the box that it circled around the world and came right back, and firmly clicked into its proper place.
And the fact that L finally understood made L content enough to do things he did when he wasn't stressed to the extreme.
For example, L returned to perching on every sittable surface, and even now as he was forced to have one foot down on the car pedals, he had his other leg brought up and rested against the driver's door.
He was also popping skittles all day.
In fact, the first thing he did when he got into the car was toss that nasty black liquorish out of the window.
It was too bad that Light understood this before L, but to be fair Light had four extra months of mulling over it while strapped to a hospital bed.
And so, L triumphed over Light's needs.
"Raito-kun cares that not kissing him properly bothers me. Allow for an explanation: I did not care for kissing Raito-kun, however now I realize how childish it was to purposely not kiss you."
When Light gave L a lustful, love-filled doe-eyed affectionate look of absolute adoration he probably used on women all the time, L threw a purple skittle at him, because L didn't mind wasting a purple skittle; L didn't like purple skittles.
Still, he appreciated the acted sarcasm.
"If a further explanation is an order, I did not want to kiss Raito-kun because I felt he was purposely hateful towards me. However now I realize that is how it has always been; it is just that lately Raito-kun is overly... expressive of this hatred."
"So I hate you?
"Yes," said L. "Raito-kun hates me plenty, enough to torment himself just to torment me as well. How such a selfless sacrifice," L paused, allowing the ping of monotone sarcasm to sink in, "is possible, I do not understand. What I do understand is this: I may love Raito-kun all I want, but his hatred for me will not disappear, not even lessen, ever, Raito-kun will hate me forever. I knew this all along, somehow my expectations of him became clouded when Raito-kun murdered people. "
"Oh, well," Light threw his arms in the air theatrically and huffed, "so you're not completely delusional. Well. Than stop trying to fix it. It's annoying," his upper lip twitched in involuntary disgust. "It's like you actually believe you can fix this and make everything better. Only people of average intelligence may think this is fixable; we toasted to genii once, as in, two of us. Including you. You know that what he got is beyond repair. I will always hate you. The end."
"Does the fact that you will always hate me make you happy?"
"What?"
"Does this make you happy, Raito-kun?"
Light considered it for a moment.
"Yeah, actually," he said in half-wonder. "It does."
"Well than, I have a feeling Raito-kun is completely unaware of a deal he and I made. I think knowing about this deal will make things much more simple for him. The deal was-"
"Seriously? Right. I believe you."
"Raito-kun will not interrupt me when I say important things! Raito-kun agreed to give up his life for my happiness. I have Raito-kun's life and I am not happy. Raito-kun is not in charge of his life anymore, yet he is happy that he makes me so unhappy."
Light's brows drew together as he tried remembering such a perfect deal, but it didn't look like anything came up.
"If Raito-kun does not remember, we can make the same deal again. His life for my happiness."
"So… you want to be unhappy with me," Light finally managed a few minutes after staring blankly into the space, still trying to recall the deal "and you will stay with me, and when you get bored again, you can kill me, and I wouldn't really... mind. As long as you are unhappy and I am with you, I have all that… all that I have left to want, really. No," he concluded, "I don't want your deal."
But L knew he had him.
L also had a handful of yellow skittles.
"Hating me and making me unhappy does not have to hurt you more than necessary. Physically, at least, and mentally also. Yesterday, Raito-kun mentioned Tartini and Raito-kun was interested in what happened to Tartini before he died and went to hell. I am offering to show you."
"You're right. I want the deal. But I won't take it." Light didn't look away from the traffic ahead of them; he stared straight ahead as he always did when what he said was the truth, and L very recently realized Light hated the truth almost as much as he hated L.
"Why won't you?"
"...so you can fool yourself into blissful fantasy that you're growing onto me? Ha. Never."
"I am not delusional, Raito-kun."
"I got to shoot you because you were delusional, remember?"
"Blind love came and went."
"Oh? So that love was tangible? Show me this love, than."
"They cut it out of my chest and took it away in an organ bag."
"It's still mine, I want it," Light insisted.
"I never thought about what happened to it," L realized, "I suppose Mello stole it, and he most likely keeps it in a jar at his bedside table."
Caramel eyes glanced at L briefly and L swore he saw a tiny spark in them. Then L saw Light go for L's bag of skittles and it took effort to share, but instead Light pinched a red candy between his fingers and pressed it against L's lips.
Mystified, L allowed Light to feed him.
"That was funny," Light said and allowed his fingertips to linger on L's lips. For a moment, L considered spitting out the half-chewed skittle and putting it into a trophy cabinet.
"Fine. I'll take your stupid deal."
"I promise to be very unhappy," L assured him.
Light then stole another skittle and much to L's dismay put it into his own mouth, and when he realized L was pouting, Light rolled his eyes.
"What? You aren't going to take it from me?" He mouthed around the candy, never actually chewing it.
L wasn't sure, partially because the skittle Light took was purple.
The brunette leaned over the handrest and lightly brushed their noses together. There was no smile or playfulness dancing across his melancholy features, just longing for whatever it was that L promised him in-between meeting the devil and dying.
"Come on," he said quietly when their lips were hairs apart, and L leaned in. Light's mouth tasted like the bitterest coffee, toothpaste and the stolen purple skittle L didn't really want. He just wanted Lights' warm and damp mouth over his own, kissing L instead of saying awful things for once.
The progress was tiny.
But as small as it was and despite everything that was just said, despite the deal that was just made, L felt quite happy to sit quietly next to Light for the next half-hour until the checkpost cleared them through the highway.
Perhaps it was this tiny burst of happiness that he agreed to give up was what he ended up paying for with everything that followed.
The BMW passed the roadcheck without even having to stop; the officer waved L in and L finally passed the last checkpost he had to pass in Japan. He and Light were free.
It was over.
And then, through the rolled-down window, L locked eyes with Touta Matsuda.
Momentum passed.
The BMW swayed and curved and weightlessly weaseled between the light traffic of the highway. It sliced the heat and gave a pleasant splash of cool air to the passengers of the cars L sped past, taking out their side-mirrors as he drove.
The two police cruisers, heavy in their driving and doing much more damage with their sloppy racing talent, multiplied and slowed and then caught up again. Their sirens must have been defining, to Light at least, because the brunette held onto the seat under him and squinted in fear abandoning his fearless and righteous façade in favor of being scared. Something he should be.
L couldn't hear the sirens, all he could hear was the speed, and the adrenaline that made his own heartbeat pulsate against his eardrums. In the rearview mirror, he could see one of the persuading cars slam into a civilian Honda, or some other car, L didn't catch what the car was, and it swirled out of control and another police cruiser slammed into it.
The swift moment L paid attention to what was already behind cost him a barely avoided collision with a red covetable; L just barely managed to graze the covetable with Light's side of the car, and Light cried out and shielded his face with his hands all too-late because by the time he lifted his arms in protection, the red convertible was already far behind them.
The speedometer of the BMW was deep in the red and was reading 120 miles. The police were falling behind them, but this was something they did purposely to let unmarked police cars ahead to shoot.
There was a helicopter above L, informing L over megaphone they would open fire shortly, much to the probable dismay of the civilian drivers who at their regulated 80mph could do little but get out of L's way and crash into highway separators on either side of them.
They wouldn't shoot unless they had a shot, and the helicopter could not get low enough to snipe because of the telephone pools that stretched endless wires like a protective cage around the BMW, and L made sure to scrape by the civilian traffic just to make his point clear: they shouldn't even dare trying to shoot.
The speedometer needle dipped deeper into the red at 125mph. The top speed he could get out of it was 148, and with all the turning and snaking L considered going up to as high as 135 would be unlikely.
L could see ahead where two men were rushing across the highway to lay out road spikes, alas the traffic in the area they picked was heavier than they could stop or get by in ten seconds, and when L squeezed into the small gap still remaining between the highway separator and the spikes, he hit the man on the end of the strip. With the ridiculous speed the BMW could muster, the man must have been killed instantly, but it didn't stop his limp and bloody body for from smashing into the windshield, where his head cracked open like an egg and spilled onto the corner before falling away.
A snowflake-shaped crack the size of half of the windshield with blood and chunks and hairs caught right in the middle of it remained that way: cracked but still intact.
Unable to see for just a moment when the body was directly between L and L's view of the highway ahead made him lose the sense of where he was and with an improperly tuned violin screech amplified by thousands, L scraped the metal exterior against a concrete block heavily.
The friction slowed them down, if only by a little, and the speed dropped by 13 miles before he could regain control, but the silver unmarked police car that was responsible for this whole chase tore ahead of the hoard, it's passenger window opened and Matsuda leaned out with a gun and shot.
Matsuda wasn't aiming for the tires as per standard procedure, L realized because according to the file L read on Matsuda, the man had the best aim on force.
Matsuda was aiming for L's head.
L didn't hear the gunshot, at their speed nobody could, but he heard the puncture of the back window and saw a perfect hole half-way above the center of the snowflake crack. Three cars ahead of him, side by side and occupying all three lanes of the highway didn't get out of L's way fast enough, or L just didn't have enough control over the BMW, because Light's side suffered serious damage and Light hit his head against the glove compartment and fiddled with the seatbelt to finally buckle up long enough for L to realize Light was disoriented.
L's condition was not good either. Another few shots or a collision with another person, and the windshield would go, and the glass would be sharp and blinding and L would see nothing and imminently crash into something – L checked – at 135 miles per hour, head-on.
"Light," he shouted once, twice, trice, before Light realized L was talking to him, and speaking in English at that, and turned to look at L too confused to be too scared. "Get into the passenger seat behind me, buckle up and duck. Now."
Light obeyed without any hesitation, and the fact that he forgot he was strapped into his seat probably saved his life as another perfect bullet hole appeared dead in the center of the bloody snowflake.
"Wait!" L shouted again when Light was about to try for the back seat again. Light hadn't even noticed he was shot at. But he halted.
L saw a brake, a man – or a woman, on a neon green motorcycle ahead of them, and L pulled the lever to Neutral and used a handbrake to drift across the three highway lanes, leaving most of his tire rubber behind. Just when he was about it crash into the concrete separator, he turned and kicked his door open. It caused the rattled BMW to zig-zag across the empty road ahead, and the friction of the wind shut the door immediately, but the man, or the woman on the green bike was already splattered on the concrete road behind them, and her bike bounced like nothing but a small animal chucked harshly to the ground to its death.
It just barely missed Matsuda's pursuit car, but it went zig-zaging just when L regained control. Until his car was aligned, there would be no more shooting.
"Go now!" shouted L again and this time Light was successfully buckled up behind L's driver seat.
In truth, L would have tried harder if Light wasn't with him, if he was free to be shot at or to smash sides of the car into obstacle, he would have likely made it.
Even if the chopper was pulling up in the air, which meant they were clear to aim at L.
Even if there were no more cars ahead, which meant undamaged police cars with so-so racing abilities would have the advantage.
Risks.
And if L was to die again, for real this time, and Light was to survive, Light would not make it on his own.
So this meant that Light was-
"Light," L said hoping Light could hear him or even understand him at all, seeing as the blur of colors and lights and speed were all too soon too much for him, "Light-"
But faintly from somewhere behind him, L heard the most absurd thing.
Humming.
Not humming, but words. Lyrics even.
Light, singing at all, singing now, was absurd, singing, as the bare tires scared the pavement of the highway with rubber so hot and shredded the tires were melting right down to the rims, was absurd.
"…say it's just a show, on the radio,
That we can turn over, and start again."
"That we can turn over, it's just a game," L finished for him in a prose reading instead of a croon.
It was absurd that both of them knew the lines.
Then L remembered.
Did you ever hear the story of the Johnstone twins?
As like each other as two new pins.
'Well, I am just like you now.'
As like each other as two new pins.
If someone could tell L why, instead of turning into a patch of construction road and speeding into the city he did something else entirely, or why he knew he would do this when the first bullet pierced his broken windshield, L would pay a great amount of money to know.
Instead, he missed the turn to the likely surprise of the persuading police who were almost expecting him to take the turn.
He knew what he was doing, and he knew what he was doing was ultimately safer.
And so with the road ahead clear, L crossed the three lanes to the right, made sure the back passenger seatbelt sign was on, haphazardly buckled in his own and...
...at 139 miles per hour, L slammed the brake pedal and pulled the handbrake as well.
The BMW screeched and skid and protested, it bucked and drifted left performing a perfect 180 U-turn on its own, flipping over twice in a perfect grand allegro, then the aluminum shreds and the broken metal skeleton surfed over the highway separator for fifteen feet before coming to a rattling arrest.
When it did, there was virtually nothing remaining of the right side of the car but a faint structural remainder of what should have been there.
Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.
To people, L and Light were gods in their own ways.
L was the angel of death, the devil, to anyone including Light, and in his own time the Devil had brought glorious legions together to fight the War in Heaven, and so the Devil fell from heaven.
Light climbed all the way to the top of the tower of Babel as Kira, and had fallen from it quickly, much like Tartini fell from heaven.
And still, both of them were closer to being gods than most men had ever.
What L once said to Light, when their hatred for each other still felt alien unnatural, now became true for both of them.
Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.
"But as God, you have fallen. Who have you to turn to if you are the fallen God?"
The separation of the two boys was immediate.
With tinted windows of the BMW, Touta Matsuda never saw Light in the vehicle at all; as far as he was concerned only the man cleared of being a murderer only because of his alleged death was present in that car.
He shot with no hesitation.
When the vehicle crashed and L, barely conscious and severely injured was dragged out of the car, he was immediately accused of being L because Matsuda radioed the entire police force all about it.
The arresting officers never waited for the ambulance; they shoved L into the barred back of a police cruiser and drove around for hours, with L slowly bleeding to his death, hoping L would just die while they took the longest route to the hospital.
L did not die, instead he remained at the bridge of consciousness and comprehension until the officers had no choice but to take him into a medical care facility or risk their badges.
It took a few minutes for the police to realize that L wasn't the only person in the obliterated BMW, and it was also Matsuda who noticed blood slowly dripping from the crushed passenger door.
Light was given aid immediately, first by police, then by one of the many ambulances that already had their hands full with a long strip of highway full of dead and injured people.
Light was bleeding heavily because of a torn vein, and by the time he was given a blood transfusion, he had lost a critical amount of blood.
But he made it, and woke up six days later with lots of broken bones in the same hospital L was brought to and kept at under heavy guard.
Despite remaining conscious, it turned out L was in a much worse condition than Light.
Other than one broken leg, L had a grade 3 concussion, the most severe possible.
He had an inoperable blood pocket in his brain that was eventually thinned out and taken care of.
He had extensive hippocampal damage.
On the first day of admission, L remained conscious and could not hold onto a memory for more than a few minutes; every few minutes he realized he did not know where he was or how he got there, and so he asked the four police guards stationed around him, thousands of times, where he was, and how he got there.
Two days after admission his memory span began to increase until it became continuous.
He had at least half-a dozen concussive seizures.
His head injury was so severe that for the first few days the doctors feared, or rather hoped, L would go into a vegetative state. As the chances of him becoming brain-dead shrunk, so did the hopes of his memories ever returning to him.
When five days after ending up in a hospital and nowhere near the mark at which he could be legally discharged and taken to prison, L was deemed fit to have his bail hearing in his hospital room.
A temporary lawyer managed get L no bail, but that didn't seem to matter to L, or to anyone in that room at all for that matter.
There was something else much more notable about L's make-shift bail hearing.
When L was asked if he had committed a certain number of homicides that was so high even the judge raised her eyebrows as she read it out loud, L couldn't answer.
He did not believe such a thing was even possible.
When he was left alone with a pair of handcuffs attached to his wrist and the bed, and four guards, L asked the man who was most civil to him something he wished he could answer himself.
"Did I really do that?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, somebody has to know," L quietly wondered out-loud. "They are charging me with something they have reasons to believe they know, otherwise they wouldn't be charging me with it."
The guard, who was already having trouble remaining unbiased because he did not for a second believe that this kid was L, the great L, was about to say something about L being a smart-ass, when the door burst open and in came a tall man with black hair and thick glasses.
His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, and his face had a permanent frown that made him appear to be either serous to the bone, or constipated.
After him trailed the judge who left the room just minutes ago, and behind the judge came the prosecuting lawyer who was more than slightly intimidated by L's presence.
"-my client was already denied his rights to medical attention, he will not be denied a proper bail hearing."
Then, he turned to L.
"My name is Teru Mikami and I'm your new lawyer Rue-san, it's an honor to represent you."
L and the Judge and prosecuting lawyer and all four officers looked at Teru Mikami as if what he said classified him as delusional.
"Now-now, Mikami-san, we all know this man had fooled a major police operation formed against himself into thinking he was Ryuzaki Rue, surely you don't mean to try recycling that notion."
"On the contrary your honor, here is a registration of the car Rue-san was driving. The vehicle is registered to Ryuzaki Rue. Here is a serial number run of Rue-san's artificial heart transplant: it is registered to Ryuzaki Rue."
"You forget, Mikami-san, Ryuzaki Rue is dead," said the prosecuting lawyer coyly while hiding behind one of the large guards.
"And here is a transcript of a deposit made into Ryuzaki Rue's autopsy technician's bank account from one of Rue-san's offshore bank accounts. Your honor, this man here is a coward. He dug a hole and hid in it to prevent the real L from getting to him. Coward he may be, but a serial murderer?"
In the end, Teru Mikami managed to get L a bail, which was thirty-five million dollars. To L, it felt about the same as having no bail at all.
When everyone but Teru Mikami and the four guards left for good, L finally dared to speak.
"So I am not L?"
"No sir, you are not," said Mikami and L was more than happy to accept this answer.
At this point of his stay in the hospital, it didn't really matter to L just who the hell he really was as long as he wasn't that man who killed all those people. So he didn't bother asking who he really was.
"What happened to me?" he asked instead, hoping Mikami had even more answers for him.
"In short, you were funding a police investigation of L, and got a too involved, both with the case and the son of the police chief who was the only witness. With assistance of some unauthorized FBI agents, he was led to believe you were L, and he shot you. You paid off a lot of people to fake your own death so you could hide from the real L, who was a part of the investigation. When you realized chief's son was released from the hospital and was kidnapped by L, you set off to find him. I don't know what happened next, but you found him and you were on your way to a police station when you were suddenly chased by an off-duty officer. There were many accidents. Two man-slaughter charges."
"I saved somebody?"
Suddenly, not only did L not kill people in bulk, he actually saved somebody.
"Yes. He is recovering at this very hospital."
"That's a nice story Mikami," said the prosecuting lawyer from L's doorway and L realized he was becoming annoyed with people going away only to come back moment later, "but this man is L, he kidnapped that poor kid himself and he was running away with him."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really," L also realized he did not like his prosecuting lawyer's non-formal tone. "Because guess what. Yagami just woke up; he'll tell you just who kidnapped him, huh?"
"Who is Yagami?"
"The chief's son, Rue-san. Your boyfriend."
"My- what?" L looked himself over to make sure he was not a woman.
He wasn't.
"I suppose we just have to see what he says," said Teru without losing his perfect constipated poker face.
And so, L's last beckon of hope was Light's account of the events.
But unlike L who really didn't know what has true and what wasn't, and unlike Teru Mikami who had much to gain from defending a huge case like L's, Light had absolutely no reason to lie.
It didn't matter with which version of the events he went, in either one he was a helpless victim, and L, whoever L was, was a vicious killer and a rapist.
The only difference in the decisions were their consequences: if Light told the truth, he was going to do the fair and just world a favor and cleanse the Earth of an atrocious man he hated with his whole existence once and for all, for good this time.
So it was obvious just what Light was going to tell the police.
L: if I had a cookie for every time Miss King references Blood Brothers…!
Light: If I had enough ink to write one name for every time you asked for a cookie every time someone did something!
THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO:
ArtistOfLight, whose birthday it is today, and Leesoca who really wanted me to use the word Asunder. And considering I was eyeing the marriage thing anyway, it was a perfect place to use it. xD
THANK YOUSSSS AND I LOVE YOUSSS: Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog, Midori Heiwa, Vulpes velox, Anemone Kurosaki, ghost, Huehuetechim IsobelAnis, Jetta, Keyinei, fan-fan31, eluivum, terracannon876, eine Dichte von Seelen, Axel138, merichuel, Ophelia's rosemary, eihei, unheardcries , Altair718, ellan54, Cakeat, ArtistOfLight, s3v3n-d34d1135, irotelveonurarms, iRoteLveOnUrArms, and My Favorite Crooked Smile!!!
THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING (and reading lol)
Want the next chapter next week? Yeah. Review.
CH28: The Last Supper
Will L be handed over to Texas so he is eligible for death penalty?
What of that happy ending?
Also, I'm curious. When and how did you find this story? D;
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