Bullet with Butterfly Wings- 'For All My Pain?'
Death Note's 'what if' situation. Character development ahead! And lots of Misa.
--
"Ly–Raito, Misa can tell you're feeling down. Talk to Misa, please?" The blond woman dragged her reluctant boyfriend to a couch.
Here in her gothic apartment, no secret was safer. During one of her frightening lucid moments, she had installed the best security that money could buy–-regular bug checks, sound proofed padding in the walls, and the best alarm system in all of Nerd-dom. She knew very well that if Detective Light decided to talk, he'd be safe.
The teen sighed. "You know I don't talk about the case outside of HQ."
"Pretty please?" She begged, pouting beautifully. "I love you, and love is all about trust."
"Nnn..." He felt guilty every time she said that, though not for the reason she intended. It worked either way, though.
"Fine."
As he chose he words carefully, (yeah, like he was just going to burst out into a heartfelt ramble at the drop of a dime. No, no, Raito always thought things through), he spared a second in awe of the way his 'girlfriend's' lacy black outfit exactly matched her morbid, neo-Victorian room. Honestly, what did she do? Color coordinate her closet and couch?
The woman is insane, he thought to himself, exasperated.
"If you have to know, things are disappointing lately," He went on aloud, "We have a suspect I'm sure of, and still not a hint of his location. And on top of that, my public is actually sympathizing with a murderer."
"But sweetie," she took no notice of his flinch at the nickname, "You sympathize with him too."
"Misa, it's not that simple!" the investigator rubbed his temples, "I know murder is wrong, even if it's for a good reason. I have my priorities straight. They don't."
The two celebrities sat side-by-side in silence for a moment, thoughts spinning like pennies in a museum 'tornado tube'.
"The worst part," Raito mused bitterly, "is that it only takes one really loud lunatic to turn the tide. Take that Mikami guy, for example. If he hadn't started spouting J's 'righteousness' over a fog horn in that smooth lawyer's voice of his, at least half the pro-J fanatics would have stayed quietly out of my way. But no, he babbles on and suddenly every zealot and his gran'ma thinks, 'Oh, someone agrees! Time to go global!'."
The sun was setting outside the wall-length window, pinkish light staining the dim room, throwing shadows against the wide walls. Raito sighed, it was getting late and he had a busy day ahead.
"Well," Misa brightened, pulling off her lacy gloves, "You'll win this anyways, and then everyone will know that you were right!"
"History is written by the winners..." conceded the detective, feeling a little better.
"And you always win!" she squealed, throwing her arms around him. "So now, the night is young." The model giggled, gesturing to the rose and lavender sky outside.
"Misa, I know what you're implying and I've told you where I stand." a lesser man would have fidgeted with the awkwardness-–then again, a lesser man would have literally jumped at the chance.
Not this one.
"Misa remembers," she pouted again, this time aiming for blatant sex-appeal. "Her Raito is such a gentleman, but really, it's fine. Misa is asking, and all dressed up too!"
The teen noted that she was indeed dressed up in an outfit so skimpy, so lacy, it could put a prostitute to shame.
"Regardless, it doesn't feel right."
Lord almighty, was that the truth? It was! And from Raito Yagami, no less. Incredible.
"And it's improper–we've only been dating for a year, and long distance at that," the brunette pointed out, prying her away from his shoulders.
There was something you had to understand about this particular young man before you could even hope to understand his motives:
To begin with, he was raised in an orphanage. And while not a Christian ruler-whacking establishment, per say, he had never really learned much about 'S-E-X' beyond tab A into slot B. You can see where he'd be uncomfortable.
Even beyond that point, a hedonistic lifestyle had never been high on his list of thing to try. It just wasn't worth dealing with the women, in his opinion. Oh, a bit of wooing the lady folk here and there? Not a problem. But when it came down to the crunch, this man took three steps out the door.
In an admittedly romantic (Oh how he winced at the word) ideal, Raito simply was not willing to lead someone on like that. If there was no one he was emotionally and mentally attached to, there was no one he was going home with. Period.
And he had never been interested in Misa, not even physically, the way he knew every other man was.
So that was how he found himself rushing through a cliche excuse and barely containing his urge to barrel down the stairs before things got any more uncomfortable.
He only hoped that Misa wouldn't take it personally. The girl was hard to get down, but she had an alcoholic streak...
"No," the fleeing genius reminded himself, "It's not my fault I care about more than sex. I'm not one of those idiots with his sorry excuse for a brain stuck in his zipper. If she wants one of them, she should just GET ONE."
As he strode down the street, loafers scraping concrete, he wondered if now might be a good time to call the limo.
"Oh Misa," he sighed, allowing his mild depression to seep through, relatively safe on the empty sidewalk. "If only you were a little more... something else."
--
The morning after, Raito awoke with a sinking sense of deja vu. He flipped open his laptop to check for updates, a feeling of detachment fizzing the edges of his mind.
Resting within the lines of harmless, buzzing memos lay a great spider in waiting, biding its time before the kill. The subject line: Urgent.
Click. The beast opened its jaws and revealed its secrets, lines of dates and names and worried preamble. The text blurred together under the detective's tired gaze, swirling around a line at the very center. Unassuming words.
Nox est nigerimus ante primam Lucem
"The night is darkest before the dawn."
--0--
J slid out the door with an alien grace, his terrible posture in no way a hindrance. Cash, a high sum, dangled precariously from a two-fingered grip.
The man was unhurried and seemingly careless, with clothes more ruffled even than usual. They were not only untucked and wrinkled but also almost twisted in places. His hair appeared mussed even by his typical unkempt standard.
A glance at his face, however, or maybe the subtle shift of his weight as a shadow flitted past an open corridor, warned potential onlookers that this look of disorganized chaos was only a front. Any villain preying on the raven-haired shadow would meet an unhappy end, this night.
Papers now tucked loosely into his pocket, the blank expression shifted into one of guarded amusement.
Outside the apartment complex, the sky was unusually clear, a score of silver stars battling valiantly with the dull orange glow of civilization.
"So much taint," he mused flatly. "So much that only the tainted can see it. Irony is indeed a cruel mistress."
Beyond the chain link gate, the city awaited him, ready to wrap its cold arms around him like a demanding lover.
"I would know about those, wouldn't I?" J blanketed himself in monotone amusement.
Glass in tiny fragments coated his path, bare feet paying no head to the wicked onslaught. Why bother? It was just one more detail, on more drop of blood lining those streets.
"On the bright side," he knew better than to believe the streets around him were truly empty, "There is Light, at the end of this tunnel."
--
Three weeks. Three weeks, two days and ten hours, but still not a clue.
And all that was about to change—or so Raito hoped.
"So… Renemoto-san… You say you have information that may interest us?" the detective began, biting back revulsion for the bum in front of him.
Their contact had shown up at head quarters with a newspaper clipping and dirty, faded clothes. With strained politeness, the figure of slovenly poverty had been led to an interviewing room that was properly sparse.
"Man, this is a cold welcome. I come here with the info you been sniffing after for weeks, and this is what I get? You got no hospitality, man." The sloth who had introduced himself as Renemoto lamented.
"Oh, how terribly rude of me," Raito bit out, "Shall I fetch you a white Russian?" If there was one thing that could kill his geniality in a heartbeat, it was men who leached off of society. The mere thought of them launched him into a rampaging tirade at the nearest pitiable by-stander.
"Uh… What?"
"Never mind, classic reference. The point, sir, is that you have to either put up or shut up. So what have you got for us?" the tired detective demanded.
"Just a tip. The description you posted? I've seen a match. Shaggy black hair? Pale skin? Foreign sort of look?" The informant listed off, looking incredibly smug.
"That was the description…" acknowledged Detective Light, leaning back in his rigid chair.
"Yeah, I've seen him. So have some other people—but they aren't what you'd call 'police friendly types'. Not to mention, there's the reason they've seen him at all."
Something about his tone wormed its way under Light's skin and crawled into his brain. The teen could feel it: they were getting close.
"And what is that reason?" he asked aloud, betraying no emotion.
"The sneaky prick is running a one man business, and he knows his clients aren't going to rat him out—if they did, the police would be on them both before you can say 'deep black'. You see what I mean?" the man finished, his face screaming 'I know something that you don't'.
"And how do you know about it?" inquired Raito with a raised brow.
"I've seen him on the corner a couple nights, and I know enough to put two and two together. I can give you the address about where he shows up… some nights. It's weird, y'know. I get the feeling he's waiting on something, and it's not a customer."
"I see. Alright Mogi." he glanced over to the one-way mirror, "If you would record the address and details? Even the small ones."
The investigator let his eyes wander over the empty cerulean room, allowing his subconscious to absorb the information as his informant rattled it off. He'd go over it later.
Raito was too self-controlled to display his emotions in front of the team—and this revolting stranger—but regardless; he felt a swell of wild laughter rising within him. This was just too perfect… J was going to get a run for his money.
"Alright," the ne'er-do-well voice snapped him back into reality. "So now that this is all taken care of, where's my cash?"
"What cash?"
"…You gotta be kiddin' me. Information costs, man! Even you oughta know that!" Renemoto was clearly not expecting this turn of events. "You know I can always tip off your suspect."
"There was never any agreement of money," Raito pointed out doggedly, looking rather amused, "But if you insist, I guess I can cover it myself."
The detective pulled out a wad of bills and tossed it at the sloth across from him. His informant snatched up the money and beat a hasty retreat, leaving surprised policemen and one increasingly self-satisfied investigator in his wake.
In the second after his departure, the brunette pulled out a cell phone and pressed one.
"Hello? James?" He glanced up at the ceiling, breaking into a smile, "I need to arrange a robbery. No, nothing serious, just a little pick-pocketing."
--0--
"Romeo, Romeo, deny your father and refuse your name! Oh, be no more a Montague, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."
It was a free afternoon, no photo shoots, no signings, no interviews… pretty boring. Or at least, Misa thought so. In fact, she was reduced to lying on her bed and reciting Shakespeare in Japanese.
"What's in a name?" wondered Misa, rolling onto her back. "A rose would be as sweet by any other name."
She'd been doing this for years and years now. Most of her friends complained about having the latest pop song stuck in their heads, but she'd never had that problem. No, the model found herself playing line on line of her favorite novels and poems…
Particularly this one.
"…Hmm…" She'd forgotten this next line. With a groan, the blond sat up and pulled a worn copy of Romeo and Juliet from her shelf.
Misa Amane had a soft spot for tragic romances and forbidden love, a fondness for those passions that bind the world together. She'd even learned some Middle English in the hopes of reading the original Shakespearian masterpiece. It was a shame that hadn't been enough.
"Ah! 'Romeo, abandon your name, and for that name which is no part of you, take all of me'." she read happily, smiling to herself.
As she read on, the woman thought fondly of her own life. Honestly, she'd always dreamed of a forbidden romance, always believed in love at first sight—in fact, she doubted there was any other kind. True love was something that was just… there. You didn't need to know anything about the person to know that you were meant for them.
It was only sad that her Raito wasn't a bit more like Romeo… oh, she loved him with all her heart, but sometimes she felt like they really weren't on the same page.
"If you do love me, say it faithfully—or if you think me too quickly won, I'll frown and lie, if you'll love me then, but never for anything else." Oh, she understood that.
With a sigh, Misa sat the book down and went on from memory. Her Raito... Sometimes she felt like he was a million miles away. It was lonely. God, she was so lonely sometimes. There was a part of her that felt cheated--her one true love, she found him... and he was so far away. At least Romeo and Juliet had been in the same city, she and Raito were living universes apart.
"In truth, my Montague, I am too fond, and you may think me shallow—But trust me, love, and I'll prove truer than those who have the cunning to be coy."
She glanced down and realized, with a start, that her book was covered in wet splotches. Hesitantly, the model reached upwards and found that her face was wet as well.
Was she crying?
"… Cease our suit and leave me to my grief…"