Chapter Text
January 1, 2005
The earth completed yet another rotation of its orbit around the sun, immediately starting a new one. It was a time of fresh beginnings, cleaning of the slate. Resolutions were made with varying levels of seriousness, from getting more exercise, acing an upcoming test, or finally taking that cruise to the Caribbean. The New Year was truly a special date for many.
Usually around this time, she’d be doing something appropriate for the occasion, wishing a happy new year to her dedicated fans. But drowning in her pool of guilt and regret, Misa had asked her manager for some time off. Which was gladly granted, as said person had noticed she wasn’t herself and requested she relax and practice self-care, even telling her to take as long as needed.
She’d nearly cried at that. A lying traitor such as herself didn’t deserve such niceties.
It was getting hard to recognize her own loyalties. Was she betraying Light by doing L’s bidding? Or had she betrayed herself first, tearing families apart the way hers was?
Was it right to let Rem sacrifice herself?
“Misa Amane?”
Misa looked up, seeing the dark-haired woman, dressed smartly with a purse strapped to her bosom. She rose from the bus bench she’d been waiting on. “Hi, Kiyomi,” she greeted, forcing cheerfulness into her tone.
Kiyomi’s lips quirked. “I’m glad you could make it. I thought you’d be busy on a day like this.”
The pop star's throat bobbed. “Heh. Funny how things work out.”
“Well, shall we?” Kiyomi looked towards the cafè. Misa nodded and together they strolled through the doors. Getting a booth to themselves away from any onlookers, Kiyomi ordered a coffee and Misa got herself green tea. With their drinks steaming with heat, awkwardness wafted from them, not sure how to start the conversation.
“How did you meet Light?” Kiyomi finally asked. “Light wasn’t a fan of your genre of music, so I find it unlikely that he would cross paths with you.”
“Oh,” Misa waved a hand, part of the act. “We just stumbled into each other on the street. As they say, sparks just flew.”
“You must’ve been real special then,” the other woman stared into her mug, her eyes sad and brimming with…jealousy?
“I like to think so,” Misa smiled, a genuine one. “Light was so handsome, and so noble! I’d follow him anywhere.” She ignored the shred of doubt gradually growing around that truth.
Kiyomi chuckled bitterly, the sound ringing hollow. “I thought so too. He was my whole world. I felt like the luckiest girl in Japan.”
She sighed. “But over time, it started to feel like…he wasn’t really into it, like he was just there because it was expected. All he ever wanted to do for our dates was study. And even if I dragged him to a nice restaurant or the park, he never engaged with any conversation. Eventually, he stopped asking me to join him. He never said it outright, but I knew then and there we were over.”
Kiyomi glanced up. “What did he see in you, if his schoolmate couldn’t keep his attention but a random model on the street could?”
“Well,” Misa puffed up proudly. “I’m very loyal, if I do say so myself. Anything he asks, I’ll do it, no hesitation.” She stubbornly refused to let her voice stutter.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
Kiyomi was still, mouth a straight line. “Misa-san, I don’t want to make assumptions. Just because he was my boyfriend doesn’t mean I know how he’s been with you. But has Light displayed the same level of devotion you’ve shown him?”
“Of course!” she answered too quickly. “Everything he’s done is for us!”
Is being with him worth the broken families?
“You say you’ll do anything for him…” Kiyomi began. “Can you say no to him?”
“Why would I? He knows best.”
He’s a liar, whispered a thought that sounded like Haru. Where did that come from?
“I would admit when it comes to academics, then he has all the answers,” Light’s former girlfriend stated. “But everything outside of that - he seemed stunted. I remember that in our social studies class, whenever we held moral debates, his arguments were rather black-and-white. You are allowed to have your own thoughts and feelings, Misa-san. And if you feel differently from him, you should make that known rather than letting him step over you.”
“But I don’t feel differently!” the blonde beauty insisted. He’s a murderer murder murderer murderer-
“I’m sorry, but that’s impossible,” Kiyomi took a sip of her coffee. “It’s not realistic to agree on absolutely every little thing. Misa-san, Light’s not here. It’s okay to act outside his expectations.”
Traitor traitor traitor traitor-
“Are you trying to turn me against him?” Misa huffed, her knuckles clenching. “Because it won’t work! I love Light and he loves me!”
“Not at all,” Kiyomi assured. “Just letting you know things can be improved.”
Killer killer killer killer-
“Misa-san? Are you okay?”
Misa took out her phone, pretending to notice a text. “Oh sorry Kiyomi-san, something came up. Thanks for the drinks!”
She bolted out, her chair squealing from the force. She ignored Kiyomi’s questioning shout, patrons staring at her, pedestrians dashing out of her way. Tears sprang and dribbled out, a choking sob stuck in her throat. Her lungs burned, perspiration smearing her lip balm.
Rem, please I need you.
She desperately wanted her shinigami companion. Someone to talk to, whom she didn’t need to lie or hide the truth. Someone who knew the whole story, as a witness to it. Someone who cared.
Someone who could pull her out of the maelstrom of confusion in her head, burying her like quicksand. She didn’t know what to think, what was right from wrong, her connection to Light tapering.
I wish Light didn’t kill her.
That admission, that single, heartbroken admission, was the first serious blow to Light’s pedestal. Because maybe if she hadn’t died, Misa wouldn’t be left like this, a wreck of a woman, torn beyond belief.
It would take more than that for her perception of him to fully crumble, but perhaps one day, Misa Amane would open her eyes and see the thorns disguised as roses.
“Welcome, Ryuzaki,” Brigid greeted as L called in for their session. “Happy New Year.”
“Hello,” the detective said back. “Let’s begin.”
L’s discomfort about speaking to a faceless stranger about his problems had slowly faded, although not entirely gone. There had been times he didn’t wish to talk about it, but the therapist had assured him that was completely fine and he could progress at his own pace, taking a few steps back if needed.
Recovery isn’t linear, she’d told him.
Heh, L thought to himself. To think I once operated as a faceless stranger. The irony is not lost on me.
“How have you been since we’ve last met?” Brigid started with the usual opening question.
L shrugged, even though she couldn’t see it. “Physically, I’ve been getting better. The morning sickness has abated, and I can withstand certain sensations again. It’s done wonders for my appetite.”
“It’s the last week of the first trimester, correct?”
“Thankfully, yes. I won’t miss it.”
Brigid chuckled a bit. “I can imagine. How’s your emotional state?”
“Still looser than I would like,” L answered. “It’s…disconcerting, when you’ve spent a lifetime locking your emotions up.”
“Ah, you mentioned that was your coping mechanism for the work you do.”
“I did.”
Brigid hummed. “If it’s okay with you, Ryuzaki, today I would like to dig into the root of it all. Like, when did you start your work? Why did you turn to suppressing your emotions? But only if you’re fine with it.”
L shut his eyes, a lump in his throat. “That’s…territory I have rarely tread upon. But I will allow you to proceed.”
“If you want to stop at any point, just tell me. This can get heavy real quick.”
L worried his bottom lip between his teeth, bracing himself as the woman on the other end pried. “When did you get interested in doing the kind of job you have?”
Now that was a memory he had no trepidations about recalling. “My guardian noticed how apt I was about seeing the connections between things and coming up with accurate conclusions based on little evidence. He gave me what was at the time my most difficult problem yet, and when I solved it, I found out it was a real case.” L smiled at the thought of Watari.
“And how old were you when this happened?”
“I was eight years old.”
“Did this keep happening?”
“Yes…he kept giving me things to solve, and I got through them all with flying colors. I enjoyed doing it, as it gave my prodigious mind something to tackle.”
As much as L wanted to bask in those rose-tinted memories, he had to get to the core. “Then…I received something. It was a normal manilla folder, like all the others. I didn’t think anything was off, just another case to crack.”
L was an adult, and had seen way worse since that fateful day. The impact it had on him was somewhat softened, but the power of hindsight still made it hard on him. “I don’t quite remember the specifics of what exactly I found,” he admitted. “But I wasn’t prepared for it at all. Before, I wasn’t fond of my fellow peers, but I didn’t hate them. After? I could only see darkness.”
“Forgetting it was probably your mind’s way of protecting you,” Brigid proposed. “But that doesn’t change the fact it still happened. What happened after?”
“I didn’t want to look further, but I knew my guardian was counting on me, so I went and solved it anyway. When I got similar cases, I gradually learned to shut off my emotions so I could persevere. That also meant…when morally dubious actions were required, I did them without question. I couldn’t let feelings get in my way. Not when it messed me up last time.”
“It’s all too often the go-to solution,” Brigid said. “Not letting yourself feel anything, so you won’t be hurt. But it’s not a permanent solution. Because those feelings still exist, and the longer they persist without being vented, the more likely they’ll blow over. It’s the most likely reason your hormones are making you so volatile.”
L nodded, his guts twisting. “It’s disorienting. Even I didn't know how much I was holding in until it all came out.”
“That’s to be expected. If I remember correctly, it’s also the origin of your low self-esteem, stemming from regretful decisions you made.”
That was probably understating it. “I couldn’t stop. I would tell myself there wasn’t a better way, that I had no choice.”
He chuckled dryly, no humor behind it. “But I was just lying to myself. The truth is, I’m an addict trying to seek their next stimulant, in higher and higher doses. All so I can drown out the pain. The loathing. The knowledge I’m a monster.”
There was the sound of a pen clattering. “You listen to me, Ryuzaki,” Brigid beckoned in a stern, yet gentle tone. “I don’t know you well. I don’t know the exact nature of the choices you made, the shockwaves they caused, or what others think of you. But from what I gathered in our few sessions together? You’re not a monster.”
L’s breath hitched, a slight shake in the hand holding the phone. “If you knew the full context…” he argued. “You’d retract that statement.”
“You are a person,” she declared. “A person whose pain caused him to make bad choices. But when he realized that it may cause him to hurt those he cares for, he sought help.”
“I could’ve done it earlier. Before I got blood on my hands.”
“That’s true. But he also could’ve not bothered at all, letting himself carry on until he self-destructs. The point is, you’re getting help with your issues, Ryuzaki. That takes strength a monster couldn’t hope to compete with. I’ll always be in your corner.”
L bit his lip, gripping the cell so firmly it creaked, knuckle white. “I want to believe you,” he whispered. “I do. But you’re just one voice against the multitude claiming otherwise.”
“They only have that power because your own voice is among them,” the therapist stated. “The goal here is to rediscover your sense of worth. You’ll have an easier time fighting them off.”
Hope and resignation clashed. He’d been convinced the maelstrom residing inside would be a forever thing, barely held back by his terrible coping mechanisms. Ryuk had planted the seed, and Brigid was nurturing it. But it was still a tiny sprout against the old, withered, gnarly-branched tree choking every space.
“I’ll…I’ll try,” he promised. “I’ll do anything.”
“And in the end, that’s all I ask of you,” Brigid’s voice returned to professionalism. “I have a question: was your guardian aware of the contents of the folder you were given?”
The detective froze. He’d known, deep down, that Watari wasn’t perfect. All cases he’d ever had were screened by the man first, weeding out those that were too easy and thus boring.
That also meant he saw everything before L did. But knowing did not erase the years spent together, the companionship shared, the grief he felt at his death. Love was tricky like that.
“...he did,” he confirmed.
“And he knew you hadn’t seen anything like it?”
“That is correct.”
“Do you have a theory why he gave it to you, knowing all this information?”
That was something L had asked himself constantly, never working up the courage to ask Watari. And now he’d never know for sure. But he was always good at putting together the pieces.
“I was way ahead of the curve,” L explained. “Solving things most adults couldn’t decipher and seeking knowledge everywhere I looked. Since I didn’t act like the eight-year-old I was, I assume he must’ve thought I could handle it.”
There was silence for a few moments. “Ryuzaki,” Brigid slowly spoke. “I’m not saying you had a bad guardian. From what you’ve told me, he did his best. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t make mistakes. He should’ve realized that regardless of your IQ, he couldn’t forget the fact that you were still a child. There were still things you weren’t ready for, as you learned the hard way.”
L was quiet. All of this, he’d known on some level already. So he let her continue on.
“He also didn’t seem to question your choices, just passively letting you do whatever you wanted. Just stood by watching you descend into a dark hole. I don’t doubt that he loved you, Ryuzaki. He helped you discover your passion and guided you in this world. He just didn’t do everything right.”
L’s lip trembled. “I know,” his voice wavered.
“I think this is a good spot to end. Ryuzaki, I want you to fully process all this. Surround yourself with support, friends who are behind you. I’ll see you next time.”
Once the call was disconnected, L put the phone down, curled his knees, and wept.
Mello and Matt were lounging in the latter’s room, surrounded on all sides by snacks. Mello was nibbling at a chocolate bar while Matt snagged salty potato crisps from a bag. In his hands was a controller, directing the video game displayed on the screen.
As much as Mello liked to think of himself as a loner, he admitted that Matt was probably the closest thing to a friend he had. Always had his room open, a willing ear to lend, tech skills if he required them. His place as third-in-line to L’s position and lack of ambition made it so he wasn’t a threat the way Near was. He was just content to play his video games and hone his computer genius.
That also meant he was trusted with Mello’s secrets.
“Matt,” Mello said. “Do you think…I’m broken?”
Matt instantly dropped the controller, turning wildly. “Dude, what? Why would you think that?”
“I’ve been chasing an ideal that doesn’t exist,” Mello answered quietly. “L…wasn’t who he was cracked up to be.”
“I figured,” the redhead mentioned offhandedly.
“Why?”
“I spent a lot of time digging through peoples’ secrets,” Matt explained. “All the files hiding their guilt, data tracking their sins. Trust me, I know stuff that would end the world if it got out.”
Mello nodded. Matt was one of the heirs for a reason, as much as he didn’t act like it.
“Whenever L was mentioned, I got the vibe it was too good to be true. So, I’m not surprised.”
“The shinigami said it wasn’t so bad,” Mello stated. “That I could talk to L and get the whole story. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to do so.”
“Any reason?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m a fucking coward, maybe there wasn’t a right time, maybe because…well, I don’t know!”
Mello broke off a piece of chocolate with a loud chomp, crushing it with his teeth. “I’m a fucking mess.”
Matt had a serious look, studying him. “Mello, you’re my friend. You’re not broken.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not. And…I don’t think L being different than envisioned has to be a bad thing. He was just an ideal before. Now, he can be someone real to you. But if you want to know who that is, you have to find out for yourself.”
Mello went silent, thinking it over. Matt, sensing what he needed, turned his attention back to his video game, letting the soundtrack wash over the room.
He had to talk to L. And he wouldn't let anything, whether it was fear, reservation, or whatever was in his way earlier, stop him.
Ryuk didn’t know why he was summoned to the King.
Okay, he didn’t know the logic behind most of the Old Man’s decisions anyway, but he still had to obey.
He flew into the cave, irritated about being pulled away. “What now?”
“Ryuk,” the bulbous mass with many arms rumbled. “You are not being removed from your post, if that’s what you’re worried about. Rather, I wish to introduce a new variable.”
Ryuk wanted to protest that L had many things to deal with already. But it wasn’t like he could just talk back to the King of Death. “What is it?”
The King raised an arm, a ball of black electricity hovering over it. “Do you know why some shinigami get extra abilities and some don’t?”
“Uh…they did some favors for you or something?”
“You could say that,” He got the impression he was grinning. “My personal entertainment.”
Should’ve known.
“And the tale of L Lawliet and Light Yagami is the most entertainment I’ve had in eons,” the King simpered. “But it’s moving a little…slow for my tastes. The shinigami are itching for drama, for something big to happen. I want you to be the catalyst.”
Ryuk swallowed, the thought of possible betrayal stinging more than he expected. “What do I have to do?”
“When the time is right, you’ll know,” he answered cryptically, before throwing the bundle of sparks right at him.
No time to move, to do anything, the sphere slammed right into him, dispersing and absorbing, adapting itself into his system. Ryuk twisted wildly, searching for differences, the current ebbing away into small flickers.
He didn’t feel affected, except for the sensation that something was there that wasn’t before. An unknown factor, latching onto him and he didn’t know what. “What did you do?”
“It’s more fun if you’ll have to figure it out for yourself,” the King waved a hand. “And I would prefer it if L Lawliet is not to know of this. Yes, I’m aware of your fondness. The only reason I’m letting it slide is because you haven’t crossed the line. But make no mistake: in the end, it’s not our nature. Step out of line and you’re dust.”
The King never raised his voice, but that was more terrifying. Ryuk gulped, nodding. “I hear the message loud and clear. Can I go now?”
“It’s not like it’ll be the only thing you’re keeping from him,” the King mentioned. “Something about his numbers changing, fading?”
Ryuk stilled. “You have any idea what that’s about?”
“Nothing like that has ever happened. We will continue to observe, to make hypotheses. You are dismissed, Ryuk.”
The death god dashed out as quickly as he could, ignoring any other shinigami who called out, the greys of the realm making way for the bright colors of the mortal world.
This what it feels like to take a side? Strange, despite its potential costs...I regret nothing.
He already felt guilty about keeping L’s ambiguous nature a secret from the man, even if he rationalized it. Now he had to hide a secret of his own, something he didn’t even know about?
A part of Ryuk felt violated, changed without his permission. What exactly had the King implanted? Would it escalate things? Put L in danger?
He was only somewhat soothed by the fact the King didn’t want anything to happen to the babies, so it couldn’t be harmful to them. What was he going to do?
Wait. He only said I couldn’t tell Elly. Never said I couldn’t tell anyone else.
He could only hope the King didn’t take that as defiance. But given that he’d never closed any of the loopholes he found, it was probably fine. In fact, it would certainly stir up the drama his kind craved.
It had to be.
Ryuk, with renewed purpose, bolted back to the place, that in just a month, felt more like a home than the Shinigami Realm, in his millenia of residing there, ever had.
Not noticing static gathering around his wings.
Near was arranging his toy robots when Ryuk phased through the room. He looked desperate, wings curled and…sparking?
“Kid,” he requested. “I need to talk to you. Got stuff I can’t hold on my own.”
Near simply blinked and found himself a comfortable chair. “What do you have?”