You're in confinement, shouting for someone to notice what's going on. But they don't. The hanging camera, with its dark glazed eye, is lifeless and the microphone is silent. Meanwhile, the roof is falling down in pieces, peeling away in great chunks as an earthquake shakes everything apart, and you can't move out of the way fast enough as a huge, solid piece crashes down onto your legs. You scream. There is a building pressure, and you can't climb, can't see your legs at all, can't move them—
You wake up. You can't move your legs, and when you blink your eyes open you see why. Ryuzaki is sitting on them. He's straddling you, peering at your face with scientific interest. "Ryuzaki," you say flatly, "what are you doing."
"Sitting on you," Ryuzaki says.
I'm well aware—! "Why are you sitting on me?" you prompt.
"To get a better angle."
"For…"
"Watching you sleep."
You give him an unimpressed look and grab the chain, making him topple over beside you. You sit up and then stand, wincing at the pins and needles that decide to make their way through your legs, and walk away from the bed. And then stop, since Ryuzaki is being markedly uncooperative, just laying all askew and not even bothering to get out of bed. You aren't facing him, so you let an ugly scowl suffuse your features, but you have a feeling he can tell anyway.
"There's no need to be in such a hurry," Ryuzaki says. "It's only… twelve thirty. Plenty of time to snuggle," he adds, suggestively.
A spike of hot and then cold shoots its way through you. Adrenaline. You're mortified on a level that reaches into your very blood, and you can't even speak.
So, instead, you turn around, lunge onto the bed, and try your best to push Ryuzaki onto the floor.
He goes falling to the ground with a crash, but grabs the chain and tugs it along with him, so you also fall to land sprawled on your side next to him. You glare at him while he smiles impishly. "Remember the rules, Light-kun," he says. "An eye for an eye."
"You're an asshole," you say.
After that start, the rest of the morning (well, technically afternoon) goes as smoothly as could be expected. When the phone rings in the middle of Ryuzaki making coffee, you don't wait for Ryuzaki to get to it first but dash over and grab it from the hook.
"Light, is that you?" Misa squeals interestedly.
You feel a headache coming on.
Beside you, Ryuzaki leans even closer, so his head is almost brushing yours, trying to snoop.
You hold the phone away from your ear a bit so he can hear it, which isn't hard, since Misa is pretty loud.
"What is it, Misa," you say.
"Well, I just got into that Nishinaka film, you know, so I won't have a lot of time to spend with you but… I made sure to write 'Fridays off' into my contract so we'll be able to go on dates every week!"
"Lovely," you say flatly.
"I never got to congratulate you for the role," Ryuzaki pipes up. "But that's pretty impressive."
"Oh, thanks!" Misa says, sounding warmly surprised.
When did these two become best friends?
"So, I was thinking," she continues, "we could watch one of his movies to celebrate! Maybe The Wish from—"
"I'm not watching a stupid romance movie," you say. "They're boring, and pointless."
"But Liiiight—!"
"No."
"You're such a meanie," Misa says grumpily. But then she rallies. "Fine, then! I'll think of a different movie. …I know of one you'll totally love!" she adds, in a singsong voice, and hangs up.
Well, that's not ominous.
She extends you a "formal invitation" two hours later, when you're downstairs at the computer desk, working, through the simple method of shouting towards the cameras and waving her arms around.
Ryuzaki clicks a button and un-mutes her, and you gaze up at the screen on the wall.
"Hey Light… it's time to show up for your date!" She wanders around a bit and shouts it again, facing a different direction, and Ryuzaki obligingly changes the camera view so it stays centered on her as she repeats her message. He seems ready to keep doing this as many times as necessary, and you're really not looking forward to see how many ear-splitting screeches it takes before Misa gives up.
"Okay, okay," you mutter, though of course Misa doesn't hear you.
When you get up to her floor, Misa smiles and shows the way to the theater on her floor like she's about to unveil something. There's three rows of seats, and by mutual unspoken agreement you all choose the front row. Ryuzaki slips into the seat on your left while Misa hops down into the one on the right and twines an arm in yours. "This is gonna be so fun…!" she stage-whispers. You're not convinced, but when the movie turns on and you see the ripples of water across the screen and the red title, Ring, you decide… okay, maybe she's not completely useless.
You quickly get into the story of the cursed video tape, though Ryuzaki's loud gasps are pretty distracting.
Asakawa Reiko, a journalist, learns of the curse in which anyone who watches a certain uncanny video will die in a week and, realizing the only way to figure out how it works is to become cursed herself, she watches it. With the help of Takayama Ryūji, her ex-husband who has psychic abilities, they try to solve the case before both their deaths are assured; while, all the while, their son lingers unattended. Although it is a horror story, the movie doesn't throw in scares for the fun of it. Instead, it spends time on building up the characters' lives and the mysterious tangle of the case in all its complexities, as Reiko and Ryūji uncover not just who the ghost is, but why she is so bent on vengeance. It's a beautiful film, where everything from the interiors of the houses to the terrors of the sea is treated artfully and given time. Without gaudy effects, it's the compositions of placement and sound that create the reality of loneliness and solitude, fear and memory. There is rain; the ocean; and eventually a well.
When on their quest to figure out the story behind Sadako's ghost Reiko finds herself suddenly becoming aware of how her time is running out, she begs Ryūji, "when I die, stay with me." She repeats herself, frantic; "maybe if you're there when I die you'll notice something…" but he refuses to consider the possibility of her death.
Even when, as they frantically pull stale water from the hidden well, Reiko checks her watch against the sun growing ever more golden through the broken wall of the house's foundation.
They are pushed past their strength. They wade into the waist-deep water in the old well where broken fingernails tell of the spirit Sadako's fruitless climb, trying to escape. The skull, the hair—that is all that's left.
Stories such as this aren't uncommon. There's a pretty well known ghost story, Banchō Sarayashiki, (The Dish Mansion at Banchō) that tells of the girl Okiku, a servant who worked for a samurai who was madly in love with her—or perhaps only in lust, for who can really tell with these things? All she was certain of was that he kept pursuing her, no matter how many times she rejected his advances. Spurned, her master hid away one of the family's ten Delft plates, and he accused her of losing the precious item. This would mean her death, so Okiku counted the plates again and again, but no matter how many times she counted, there were indeed only nine.
So her master offered her a deal. Become his lover, and he would forget the whole thing.
Even with the possibility to save her own life by submitting, she did not. Even knowing she would certainly die otherwise. But surely, she couldn't have predicted that the samurai would kill her by throwing her down a deep well, from which she could never be free, even as a spirit…
In Ring, at least, Sadako has finally climbed her way out of the well, though it is through a video tape and televisions; and her quest for vengeance is unabated.
In the scene where the ghost drags herself out of not only the well but the TV on which the tape is playing, Ryuzaki actually shrieks, drawing you very quickly back to the present, away from thoughts of the darkness and solitude of a well, a confinement with no escape. There's a quick shuffle, accompanied by a tug on the chain, that makes you turn to look his way. He's climbed over his seat and is now hiding behind it, peering up over the back so all you can see of the detective is the top of his head and his wide eyes.
"Ryuzaki, you know it's not real, right?" you say.
"It is pretty terrifying though…" he murmurs, giving you a horrified look.
"Light's right," Misa adds brightly, leaning over you to speak to him. "It's totally not real. They even filmed her walking backward and then reversed it to make it more creepy!"
"Hm," Ryuzaki says. "But this movie… I can see where the Second Kira got her inspiration from."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?!"
It is a little suspect, what with the whole death by heart attack method.
"Nothing," Ryuzaki says innocently.
"Ugh, just say it already… you still think I'm the Second Kira, don't you?" Misa says.
"Well… yes."
"Sheesh, just because I watch scary movies? Are you really L or just an internet troll?"
"I'm not L, I just work for him," Ryuzaki says.
Misa laughs. It starts as a chuckle, but as Ryuzaki stares at her, increasingly wide-eyed, it devolves into paroxyms, and she leans over, clutching her stomach as her legs kick out; Ryuzaki is forced to lean away from her to avoid being whacked. "What—you actually think I'll believe that?" she says.
"It's true…"
Misa actually snorts. "Okay, Ryuzaki. You're not L." Her laughter subsides to a small smirk that flits around the corner of her mouth, and you can see the possibilities racing through L's mind. If Misa had come up with reasoning as to why she thought he was L, he would have no trouble tearing that reasoning to pieces, but when faced with nothing but that knowing smirk all he can do is try to defend himself by saying "I'm not L." Yeah, now you get to see how it feels to be accused of something, and have no one believe your defence, you think.
But how did Misa figure it out? It's not a completely unreasonable assumption, since L is known to head the Kira task force and Ryuzaki certainly seems to be in charge, but half the time Watari (at least you assume it's Watari) talks from behind a stylized "L" instead of a "W" anyway. While the question could torment you for ages, ultimately, Misa isn't really that important—what matters is Kira, and solving this case.
That's one thing you've never considered, you think, as you watch the credits roll—what if Kira is a ghost? The powers line up incredibly well with a vengeful spirit's traditional abilities. But you reject it as soon as it occurs to you. While it might be theoretically possible that someone died angry enough at the idea of 'criminals as a group' to have the power to kill people who had committed multiple kinds of crimes, for this to happen to two people, one after another? And then, the fact that both Kiras reacted to the investigation as though they were living beings… finding criminals on the news, communicating through media, having to have that name and face… even the idea of possession explains it better. Almost perfectly.
But L's latest theory would mean that you were the First Kira. That somehow without knowing it a different spirit puppeted your body and then left you with absolutely no memory of the fact. It just doesn't work. Even if, by some incredible coincidence, you didn't notice gaps in your own memory, your family or someone who knew you would have realized you were acting like a completely different person.
Yet you know you weren't; and it's the one possibility that's never been brought up—not even by your father, who has the most to gain from your extenuation.
If you were Kira, you would have been so knowingly, and in full control.
It's a truth you know fundamentally, and the foundation of your unshakable belief in your own innocence.
It's a truth that L has seemed sure of as well—until after your confinement. Until the case against you began to fall apart.
I think I wanted you to be Kira, he'd admitted.
In the evening, you pour over the Kira case files until your eyes glaze over.
You're wandering through your house, but nobody's there, not mom and not Sayu—it's completely empty. You peek into your bedroom, sure that there should be somebody in there, at least, waiting—a friend, or a monster—but there's nothing at all, and the room is lit up with daylight instead of shrouded in gloom. You stand there feeling awkward, and turn in a slow circle, trying to figure out why this looks like the room of a stranger. Oh. Your bookshelf is missing, of course, because L took it, and now all the books are scattered across the floor… you're bending down to sort through them when you hear your father's voice from downstairs. He sounds reproving, like he's been waiting for an answer for a while…
"Light—" your eyes snap open. Your head is in your arms and you're drooling onto the computer desk while beside you, Ryuzaki's face is lit up by the pallid glow of the computer screen. It's night—the main room is echoing and silent, and Ryuzaki is still poking through that German game.
And your father is standing beside you. "Maybe you should go to bed," he offers, awkwardly. He tries an encouraging smile in your direction, and you blink at him, disoriented. Did he used to have that much grey in his hair—?
"Oh," you say. "Uh, yeah. Probably." You smile back at him, and it feels strained. Silence falls between you again.
"Well…" he says at last. He coughs. "I, uh—I was going to go home over the weekend," he says, with a haunted, guilty manner.
"That's great, tōsan," you say.
"Right," he says. "I guess I'll see you on Monday, then."
"Yeah, I guess so."
He nods. Then pauses, opens his mouth—he sounds pained when he says, "Light, you've been—you know I'm proud of you, right?"
"Tōsan, what's this all about?" you ask, alarmed.
He shakes his head. "Nothing. I just… I suppose my mind started to wander as it was getting late, and I couldn't remember if… if you knew," he says. He reaches out as though to pat you on the shoulder but seems to think better of it halfway through the motion and lets his hand fall, stiffly. Then he turns and walks over to the elevator.
When he's gone, Ryuzaki says, "that was weird."
"No kidding," you say. You're still staring after him, faintly baffled, and feeling upended for no reason you can express.
Tonight, when you get in bed, you make sure to stay firmly on your side.
It doesn't help.
/
"I once solved a case that baffled three world governments and the second greatest detective in the world in a day," Ryuzaki announces flatly.
You're staring at the test version of the Kira program and yawning. Your eyes are itchy with tiredness and you're on your second cup of coffee. It's only (only) two in the afternoon. Practically morning, by Ryuzaki's clock.
"Good for you," you say, and switch instead to the document you'd started building out of the deaths in late June. There's something here. You're sure of it. Whatever it is is staring you in the face—a difference in the Kira kills after the two week break.
Most of the task force is gone. Soichiro and Aizawa won't even come in today; Matsuda is taking Misa to film her scenes for the movie and she'll probably stay out late into the evening. You don't know where Mogi is, though you're certain you'd seen him passing by earlier.
Still. It feels like you're alone, and Ryuzaki feels it too, which is probably why he'd ever let those words leave his mouth. He generally tries to make a good impression on the task force by not boasting. Though, the way he looks, it almost doesn't seem like a boast. He's got his hands wrapped around his knees and his head sunk to his chest, and he looks about as lacklustre as you feel.
"I used to be very good at my job," Ryuzaki continues.
Yeah, it's not a boast, you decide. It's just plain whining.
"What do you want, a medal?" you say, but lazily. There's a plate of melon sitting by him, and you reach over and pick up a piece, eating it. It's nice. In fact, you decide you want the whole plate, and slide it over to you.
"I have medals. And commendations, and recommendations, and even knighthoods," Ryuzaki says bitterly. "But I can't solve the Kira case. I'm not even sure I could solve any case. I am useless."
Only Ryuzaki could say that in such a biting tone it makes it seem like it's your fault, and not his own.
You eat another piece of melon.
"Maybe you just need something to get you out of this frame of mind," you say, as much to yourself as him. "Something to get a different perspective. What's in the basement?"
"The basement?" Ryuzaki says. "Why do you want to know?"
"The first basement," you clarify. "I assume there's actually a gym and you weren't just lying about that."
"Oh," Ryuzaki says. "Of course. I knew what you meant."
There are lots of things in the basement. One of which is a net you can set up to play tennis, although considering the length of the chain, that's not exactly feasible. "We could play against the wall," you suggest, when you see Ryuzaki considering the racquets.
"Good idea," he says. So you both grab a racquet and he serves towards the wall. It can't be called a real game by any stretch of the imagination, but still, you find it fun enough to try to catch it on the rebound and send it back to him, and soon the two of you are taking the game rather more seriously than is warranted. You're keeping score, and you're pretty sure he is too. Sometimes, you have to run further than the chain allows, and then it's up to Ryuzaki to notice and run with you—other times, he's the one darting to catch it and you're chasing to make sure he makes the hit. It's the weirdest game of tennis you've ever played, and it doesn't escape your notice that, even though you're technically playing against each other, you're kind of on the same team too.
.
.
.