"L, do you know…Shinigamis…love apples?"
M examined the photos handed over by L in puzzlement, reading the messages written by prison inmates. The Japanese task force had recently informed L about reports of criminals exhibiting strange behaviors before dying from sudden heart attacks, and they had provided the photos for reference.
She sat at her desk, her gaze hidden behind round metal-frame glasses she rarely wore, except when she anticipated working overnight. Piles of case files surrounded her, creating walls that imprisoned her in a fortress of paper.
Despite M's exhaustion, she resisted the urge to drink coffee, aware that sleep deprivation could make her actions clumsy and result in accidental spills on the precious files. The room still carried the lingering aroma of coffee, a testament to L's relentless consumption of the beverage.
The Okada Yutaro case was on the verge of going to trial, and M was in the process of preparing the team for the courtroom. Despite not possessing a Japanese attorney license, which meant she couldn't actively participate in the trial and could only observe from the auditorium, she held the role of lead attorney for the Okada Yutaro case team, and had taken charge of instructing and revising most of the retrial complaint.
L knew she was occupied with legal preparations. He didn't intend to interrupt her work, but Kira's message made him feel mocked, and he needed someone to talk to.
M, noticing L's decision to share evidence related to the Kira case rather than just news, found it unusual. She decided to take a break from her workload and examine the photos.
"You've realized?" L wore a wry smile.
M handed the photos back to L, her expression filled with disdain.
"A message from Kira, able to control a person before sending them to their death? Kira truly is childish."
With such a complicated case, it was not unforeseeable for L to feel frustrated and want to talk with her. She felt distressed for L's situation, but she knew well that he could handle it, and it was best for her not to intervene initially, especially considering the wrongful conviction cases she also had on her plate.
Shinigami. Do they truly exist?
M wasn't sure. The Kira case was becoming increasingly bizarre. She found herself considering the idea that anything was possible, whether through human or supernatural means.
But, maybe they do exist. Maybe, on that day...
M swiftly dismissed that possibility, deeming it too irrational and not something she could entertain.
Perhaps the message mentioning the Death God was more of a metaphor, she reasoned, but then why leave behind this message?
"We know he needs a name and a face to kill. And to some extent, he can control the victims' time of death and their actions before dying," L said, walking over to the nearby sofa and hopped on, resuming to his crouched position.
Her gaze followed L's movement. "Well, the previous killings have only resulted in sudden heart attacks, so perhaps these actions were all Kira experimenting with his abilities, rather than directly causing the deaths of criminals."
"Yes, that's correct. The question I'm contemplating is why he chose to experiment with his powers on criminals." L picked up his cup of black tea left by Watari on the divan and took a sip.
M removed her glasses and massaged her eyebrows, pondering for a few seconds before replying, "If he truly is capable of this, then I would say he is trying to distract you with deaths other than heart attacks, making you suspicious of every death that occurs in the world."
Continuing their conversation uninterrupted, he reached for the sugar jar on the tray and dropped another cube into his tea, "That is a possibility, but considering Kira's childish nature, he would want to make his presence known by continuing to kill people with sudden heart attacks. It's like maintaining a brand name. That's how he announces himself to the world. If Kira started getting creative with different methods and various times of death, he wouldn't be identified."
M followed L's words, "Which suggests that his experiments serve a purpose, not as part of a grand plan, but as a temporary measure for something he intends to do in the near future -"
She paused abruptly.
There was a sensation of warm liquid slowly flowing at the back of her throat, caught her off guard. It was a completely new feeling, one she couldn't ignore. She furrowed her eyebrows, desperately trying to discern the nature of this sensation that seemed to have a life of its own.
Was it a sign of fatigue? But she had only just begun her work...
Meanwhile, L took a sip of his tea, his focus momentarily diverted. As the liquid touched his tongue, he concluded it was not sweet enough, and reached for another sugar cube. Just as he was about to stir the mixture with a spoon, he noticed her momentarily pause.
He looked up, and the sight startled him. His grip faltered, and the spoon slipped from his fingers, plunging into the tea with a faint cling.
"M, your nose is bleeding."
Miru stood amidst a sea of towering adults, their legs extending endlessly in suits and dazzling luxury dresses, forming a wall before her. The expansive ballroom, with high ceilings and ornate chandeliers, cast a warm glow. Conversations filled the air as guests mingled, while well-trained waiters effortlessly served trays of delectable desserts and champagne.
It was no surprise that there were no children her age present, as this event was typically unsuitable for them. However, she found herself reluctantly positioned as the piano accompanist for the dance, a role she had been pressured into by her father, Seto Nanami, who had suggested her exceptional musical talent to the host. Although she received praise and awe from the audience, the scene still exerted considerable pressure on such a young girl.
Seeking comfort, Miru yearned to reach for her mother's hand, yet hesitated, ultimately choosing to tightly grasp her dress, determined not to be swept away in the overwhelming sea. But her mother swiftly brushed off Miru's hand without even a glance. Miru looked up, expecting an angry glare, but her mother never even spared her a glimpse.
With a glass of champagne in hand, she gracefully navigated through the bustling crowd, and approached a man who appeared to be Seto Nanami's potential client for the next opportunity.
They were too far away for Miru to hear the conversation, and the chatter of others drowned out any details, causing her a headache. All she could see was her mother's effortless and refined charm, drawing lingering gazes from other men who discreetly received pinches from their wives in concealed places, sending silent warnings.
She then scanned the room, searching for her father's presence. Seto Nanami stood at a distance, wearing a grin on his face as he observed his wife, his eyes distant yet filled with a peculiar admiration for her social prowess, before he was approached by another guest for a conversation.
His grin seemed genuine, and in that brief moment, Miru allowed herself to believe that there must have been some affection between her parents, the kind that brought her into existence, though it existed in such a subtle way that she couldn't fully comprehend.
She knew it was all speculative, but in that moment, she refused to remind herself of that fact.
It was a lesson about Japanese music history, and Miru was introduced to the classical rakugo story "Shinigami".
Rakugo is a traditional form of Japanese verbal entertainment that takes place in yose theatres. The performer, known as a rakugo artist, sits on a raised platform and captivates the audience with their storytelling skills. With just a paper fan and a small cloth as props, the artist skillfully narrates long and intricate comical (or occasionally sentimental) stories, all while remaining seated in the seiza position. Remarkably, the artist portrays multiple characters in the story using subtle changes in pitch, tone, and a slight turn of the head. These subtle nuances bring the characters to life and engage the audience in the dialogue unfolding before them.
"We'll start from the footage first." The tutor said, and the two shifted their focus to the screen before them.
Once there lived a lazy man who had dedicated his life to gambling. His wife despised him, expressing her disdain with harsh words, "I have never seen such a useless person like you. If you don't want to earn money, then I would rather you be dead." Eventually, she kicked him out of the house, demanding that he find a way to make money. In his despair, the man contemplated ending his life or devising a scheme to make quick money.
It was during this moment of desperation that a Shinigami appeared before him. "Your lifespan is not over yet. What if I teach you a method to make quick money?" The man was skeptical but decided to listen to what the Shinigami had to offer.
"How about becoming a doctor?" the Shinigami proposed.
"That's easier said than done," replied the man.
"Imagine this: If you see a Shinigami like me standing next to a patient at the end of their bed, chant a specific spell and clap your hands twice. The Shinigami will then walk away, and the patient will be saved. However, if the Shinigami is standing beside the patient's pillow, it means their time has come, and you should not chant the spell."
"What is the spell?" the man inquired.
"The spell is 'Ajarakamokuren, techeretsu par,' and then clap your hands twice."
"Like this?" The man attempted to chant the spell and clapped his hands twice. Before he could comprehend what had occurred, the Shinigami had vanished.
Following this encounter, the man began accepting requests from families to cure their ailing loved ones. Every time he saw a Shinigami at the end of a patient's bed, he would chant "Ajarakamokuren, techeretsu par" and clap his hands, causing the Shinigami to disappear, leaving the patient completely healed.
News of his miraculous abilities spread, and he soon amassed a fortune. He indulged in luxury, but eventually squandered all his money. Moreover, there were no more patients left in town for him to cure. Just when he thought his luck had run out, someone from a neighboring town begged him to save their wealthy master's life. As the man entered the wealthy man's house, he noticed the Shinigami standing beside the dying man's pillow.
Regrettably, the man signaled that he couldn't save their master. The servant pleaded desperately and offered a substantial amount of gold. In response, the man devised a plan and instructed the servant to find four men to rotate the bed. When midnight arrived, the man observed the drowsy Shinigami and commanded the four men to turn the bed. Seizing the opportunity, he quickly chanted the spell, "Ajarakamokuren, techeretsu par!" and clapped his hands twice. Startled, the Shinigami woke up and vanished.
The man felt proud of his cunning and accepted the gold before returning home. On his way back, the same Shinigami who had first approached him and offered the spell reappeared.
"You did something clever, didn't you?" the Shinigami jeered, intimidating the man. Suddenly, a hole appeared beneath their feet, and the man tumbled into it.
When he regained consciousness, he found himself in a cave illuminated by numerous candles. Each candle represented a person's lifespan. To his horror, he discovered that his candle, which had once burned brightly, was now nearly extinguished, while the wealthy man's candle burned vigorously. The Shinigami explained, "Because you broke the rules, the two candles have exchanged places."
Filled with panic, the man pleaded for his life, offering all his money to the Shinigami. With a sinister smile, the Shinigami presented him with a candle and said, "If you can use the remaining flames to ignite this candle, perhaps your lifespan can be extended."
Trembling, the man accepted the candle, desperately reaching for the almost extinguished flame, while the Shinigami stood by, gloating, "Hurry, the candle is about to go out!" "It's about to be extinguished!"
Frustrated, the man shouted, "Shut up!" and continued to try. But to his dismay, in an instant, the candle went out, and the man collapsed to the ground, never to awaken again.
Miru was immediately captivated and became obsessed with it.
Despite the Shinigami not typically being considered a benevolent being, it was not entirely malevolent either. She wondered if there truly existed a Shinigami and if her own candle of life still burned with a lengthy flame.
Perhaps, she thought, the Shinigami had the power to grant her a different life, just as the Shinigami had granted the man a different life (brief), though the man had paid the price due to his greed.
If Shinigami exists, I am willing to pay the price to be relieved from everything that's happening.
As if some force had heard her wish, an opportunity presented itself.
On a typical day, with her parents absent as usual, Miru sought a respite from the strains of violin practice. Longing for a change of focus and to soothe her tired fingers, she decided to indulge in some reading time at the library. Lately, her mind had been captivated by Tagore's "Stray Birds."
Tagore's prose flowed like a serene river, carrying profound thoughts and insightful observations. The poet's keen observations and profound insights into the complexities of life and human relationships filled her with a sense of awe and wonder.
"What you are you do not see, what you see is your shadow," she read aloud in a calm tone, savoring the words and allowing their meaning to envelop her. Lost within the ethereal realm of literature, she became so engrossed in the profound message that she failed to notice her bookmark resting precariously at the edge of the desk. Unbeknownst to her, as her elbows brushed against it, the bookmark took a gentle tumble, finally finding a soft landing upon the polished wooden floor.
As she leaned down to retrieve her bookmark, her locks of hair gently brushed against the cool surface of the floor, shifting her perspective closer to the ground. It was in that moment that her eyes fell upon an old socket nestled between the bookshelves, only visible only from a child's point of view.
Their house was an old one, and perhaps, except for this socket, all the other sockets had been replaced with new ones long ago, leaving this one forgotten. Miru swiftly rose from her chair, compelled to explore further. Books scattered across the floor as she emptied the shelves, determined to gain access to the socket.
Lying on the ground, inspecting the socket's condition, she noticed signs of oxidation on its chipped exterior. The worn and weathered appearance, tinged with a yellowish, almost dusty hue, spoke volumes of its age. Traces of small scratches and scuff marks adorned the surface, bearing witness to the countless plugs and unplugs it had endured over time.
Common sense dictated her that electricity was powerful and dangerous, and a socket in such a condition would be a potential threat. Yet, the presence of the old socket seemed strangely reasonable in the context of their house. She made the decision to leave it be, at least for now.
For the following days, her mind was continually drawn to the old socket.
The situation felt incredibly peculiar, almost as if a Shinigami had purposefully left that old socket there, concealed, patiently waiting for her to stumble upon it. It seemed as though it carried a hidden agenda, cunningly offering assistance and silently suggesting the possibility of striking a deal.
Miru shuddered at the thought of encountering Death itself.
It's impossible. They only existed in folklore.
However, it still didn't explain the uncanny coincidence of the old socket appearing right after she had learned the rakugo story "Shinigami" and briefly entertained the idea of striking a deal with this supernatural force.
The existence of that socket intrigued her and sparked a desire to gain a deeper understanding. She delved into the world of electrical engineering, immersing herself in books and resources. Being a clever and talented girl, she grasped the concepts quickly, although she recognized the need to start from the basics.
Miru's studies focused on the potential risks associated with old sockets, including the dangers of short circuits, sparks, and electrical fires. As she delved deeper into her research, she discovered that the specific socket she had encountered might not have been designed to withstand a current of 15A. Furthermore, she learned that the wires connected to the socket were too thin, raising concerns of overheating and the subsequent risk of fire.
The more she delved into learning, the more she felt uneasy, yet at the same time elated, as if every new piece of knowledge brought her closer to liberation. She learned to check the power consumption of household appliances and knew how to overload the socket.
She wasn't sure whether she even wanted to do anything with it.
Her mind remained fixated on the electrical socket when her father entered her room once again. As was her usual response, she chose to avert her gaze and retreat into her own thoughts.
Her eyes wandered to the bedroom door, triggering a recollection of a recent dream.
In the murky depths of her subconscious, the haunting scene replayed itself with unsettling familiarity. Her father, a menacing presence, loomed over her vulnerable form, transforming into an otherworldly figure that engulfed the room, plunging the dream into an abyss as suffocating as the depths of the sea. In the dream, the door burst open, radiating light that penetrate the darkness. Her mother stood at the door, unleashing a piercing scream.
What a nice dream. If only she could scream for me. It didn't matter if she screamed because of seeing him looming on me, or by sheer disgust towards me.
None of it mattered.
But her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by her father's voice.
"Look at me," he commanded, his words laced with a sickening mixture of satisfaction and malice.
This time, she glanced at him, her eyes blazing with anger.
The room, as always, was permeated with the acrid smell of his presence, a scent that seemed to cling to every surface, suffocating her very being. It still made her stomach churn, the urge to retch overwhelming.
"You look exactly like that bitch. Every single damn thing about you."
Is it because I resemble the person you couldn't control? Is that why you unleash your impotent rage on me?
That's it.
A web of dark threads entangled and spread within her, refusing to unravel. It tightened its grip until something inside her snapped. The growing darkness wove a daunting plan, entangled with the presence of the old socket. It seemed insurmountable, as if reliant on a divine force beyond her control.
She returned to the seaside the next day, pondering about the plan.
No. This was not a plan that a God could grant her succeed.
If there truly existed a God with almighty powers, she questioned, then why was she condemned to endure an existence filled with relentless suffering, abuse, hatred, and humiliation? These burning questions, entwined with the black threads woven into a long satin-like fabric, began to enshroud her completely, turning her into a figure consumed by an all-encompassing darkness, like a mere shadow.
The waves crashed upon the shoreline, their relentless sounds echoing in the air. However, this time, even the powerful force of the waves back and forth could not wash away her emotions, or weaken her unwavering determination. If anything, the rhythmic surge of the waves only served to enhance her persistence further.
And her mind reminded her the the rakugo story.
If there is a Shinigami, please hear my plea and show mercy upon me. Please do not obstruct my plans, but aid me in accomplishing them. Take whatever what's left of me, or anything you wish, but grant me relief from this suffering.
With the vow in her mind, and one last glance of the infinite blue, she turned away and headed home.
In her pursuit of a plan, Miru engaged in a series of experiments.
First, she investigated the power consumptions of the household furniture, and analyzed the compatibility, seeking the perfect combination that would bring her plan to fruition.
So, the dehumidifier in the library and the portable air conditioner in my room were the possible combination, and they are reasonable to appear in a library.
Capable for fulfilling her plan.
The second step was to select an old extension cord. Miru diligently searched for the oldest extension cord she could find, even venturing to nearby dump sites on her own, miraculously without arousing any adult curiosity. She managed to locate some cords and began a trial-and-error process. Connecting and monitoring different devices, she observed how the cords heated up under the strain, swiftly unplugging them when the desired threshold was reached. Eventually, she identified the perfect combination that would trigger the intended outcome.
With everything in place, it was only a matter of deciding when to proceed.
Miru chose the same date that her father had entered her room for the first time one year ago.
On this day, both her father and mother were at home, a calm summer day with both adults returning after their respective routines—a day of work for her father and an evening of socializing for her mother. She anticipated they would be tired, carefully paying attention to their recent conversations and schedules.
Even though she had conducted so many experiments, she wasn't sure whether it would succeed or not tonight. If not, then she would keep on trying.
She ate dinner in silence. The adults did not chat either, perhaps too exhausted from their current activities.
She watched the clock on the wall, with the second hand ticking.
The cook and the housekeeper would finish their shift around 9.
She wanted to make sure she targeted specific people without involving others.
Miru kept waiting, pretending everything was normal.
And when her father and mother returned to their rooms – they have long slept separate rooms – she quietly slide into the library and arranged the extension cord and the furniture.
And then she returned to her bedroom. She did had an escape plan, but she also was prepared to resign herself to fate. As she stayed awake, waiting for the end to come close, she noticed the light went on yet again.
They should be asleep by now. Why…?
However, the lights stubbornly remained on, arousing her curiosity and compelling her to venture out of her room, in fear of her plan exposed.
To her astonishment, she discovered her mother seated at the dining table, surrounded by a haze of smoke and lost in contemplation. A glass of whisky sat before her. With her makeup removed, her flawless skin radiated in the dim light, and without the layers of eyeshadow and lipstick, her eyes held a softer, more innocent gaze.
When she caught sight of Miru standing at the door, she abruptly extinguished her cigarette.
Miru stood frozen, a whirlwind of disbelief and uncertainty whirling through her thoughts.
Did she extinguish her cigarette because of me? But she never cares…
"What are you doing here instead of being in bed?" Her mother's piercing gaze demanded an explanation, filled with a mixture of anger.
"I noticed the lights hadn't turned off yet," Miru stammered, feeling a lingering sense of unease hanging in the air.
Her mother's response was curt, "Well, I'm going to bed now." With a swift motion, she gulped down the remaining liquor in one go, leaving the glass on the table, retreating to her bedroom.
Miru watched as her mother turned off the living room light, and then her mother's bedroom lights went out. She then silently returned to her own bedroom.
The image of her mother extinguishing the cigarette in that particular moment kept stirring a whirlpool of complex emotions within her.
Was it an act of protecting her from inhaling the toxic smoke? Or perhaps it was an expression of the maternal love she had yearned for all along?
The answer eluded her, lingering in the depths of the night as she struggled to find sleep. Her mind continued to wrestle with her mother's enigmatic action, desperate for clarity and understanding.
Should I cease my plan, perhaps disconnect the cord?
But before she could grasp any answers, the fire spread faster than she had anticipated.
The library was adjacent to her parents' room, and the flames quickly spread due to the flammable books. Despite the chaos, she remained silent, observing the fire devour the library then her father's room, and finally her mother's. When she was sure that the flames took over their rooms, leaving them no possibility to escape, she dashed out of her own room. The thick smoke rose, making it difficult to breathe, and she crawled towards the exit in an attempt to escape. She thought that even if she couldn't make it to the entrance, it wouldn't matter, as death was inevitable.
She was willing to sacrifice what remained of her, or anything necessary, to find relief from her suffering. It appeared that her time had not yet arrived, whether due to the grace of the Shinigami or a cruel twist of fate. Moreover, there was a sense that something else enticed the unknown force, causing it to refrain from taking her existence.
Eventually, Miru managed to crawl out of the house, grasping her breath. The smell of the grass and soil mixture with the smoke on her cloths made her realized she had successfully escaped and was at the front lawn of the house.
She looked back.
The house was engulfed in flames, the inferno consuming everything in its path. Thick, billowing smoke filled the air, obscuring the once-familiar structure. Orange and red flames danced and flickered, devouring the walls, roof, and windows with an insatiable hunger. It also devoured her abuser, neglection, suppression, lies, pain, and solitude.
Everything that shaped her existence was now in flames.
Now I will never know why she extinguished that cigarette in front of me.
The chance of them becoming a better parent that I envision, the possibility of them see me as their daughter, as a living person, was gone forever.
And here I am. Still alive.
Why.
It became impossible to discern whether the flames had injured her physically or if it was the turbulent thoughts and emotions that had engulfed her after she carried out her plan, causing terrible pain in her body. In the midst of this, she started to realize tears rolling down her face unconsciously, falling onto the lawn and mingling with the soil.
By the time firefighters arrived at the scene, it was already too late to save the adults. All they could see was a girl lying on the ground, desperately clinging to life.
With tear stains on her cheeks.
Author's Note:
Finally, Miru's past will come to an end as we shift back to the Wammy's House era. In this chapter, I aim to subtly incorporate the concept of "Shinigami," a central element in the Death Note canon.
Currently in other chapter, I've discovered an explanation for L's peculiarities and behavior. However, I'm facing challenges in conveying this effectively and I'm unsure about the best approach to take. My current plan involves mentioning L's possible past using multiple flashbacks or in his inner thoughts.
Additionally, I'm contemplating how to develop their relationship in a practical yet understatedly romantic manner. I'm uncertain about successfully executing a "slowburn" fanfic and staying true to L's character, as delving into his human side may risk writing him out-of-character. I'm trying to do more research and rewatch more L footages. (As a first-time English fanfic writer, I see myself having many concerns…)
Regarding the Kira case storyline, I'm currently pausing the discussion of the retelling Canon storyline to avoid spoilers. Once the story reaches a certain point, I will resume with the Kira case storyline.
Feel free to share your speculations in the comments section about what is going on with M in the Kira storyline, or how you predict Meredith's relationship with L in Wammy's House might develop. I always appreciate feedback from readers, whether on the plot or the notes.