Chapter Text
Filling the vase to the brim, trail of focus long lost, his palms threatened to drown in the chilly fall of tap water. He sighed a tiny sound of annoyance through gritted teeth that faded into the quiet echoing throughout the empty space accompanying the apartment, followed by tonic blows of wind unhindered. It sounded like wheezing, almost, swarming through the cracks of where the window frame has been pushed to reveal the familiar buzz of Honshu cicadas.
Light knew he was alive, breathing, living in the middle of modern humanity, and yet the fingerprints coating the glass felt alien to him. Often times he found the ache he was never even looking for in the first place; to reach out into the depths of his body and feel around his guts to make sure he was actually real, actually allowed the breaths he took. Some moments he spent feeling bad about not being able to feel bad for all existence he doomed to perish, there must have been a key to the otherworld of his self that he wasn't given. Light wasn't sure why the plea for purity kept dripping from his lips like a prayer when he knew, very well, that he was the only God he could beg for it.
Either that, or no star in the sky found him worthy of a blessing. No one to get upset with but his own veins.
He still remembered being so small, the dull ache on his skin after planting his knees on the floor for hours, asking to be made whole and waiting for a holy sign of approval, an illusion of the seed that bled a pure heart into his ribcage. Afterwards, he ran, panicked, to the bathroom mirror making sure he hadn't turned into one of the gruesome creatures from some of the books he sneaked from the library because he was afraid he was banned from goodness and God would punish him for the mere desire to receive such.
Light was a silly child. The sun rose and even well into adulthood, he still felt odd when met with his own two eyes in the mirror, still waiting to become that terrifying creature, he always swore he saw the shadow around his edges. The day he realized the mirror would remain to fail displaying his truth as long as he lived, Light wrote down double the amount of names he usually did, as if he would go insane if he didn't have actual proof of his monstrosity.
Choke down the hope. Swallow it and vomit it onto oneself.
His body shook with the unforgiving memories carrying thoughts, allowing himself to grow accustomed to reality yet again and pick up his current face of admiring the flowers next to the sink. Colorful bundles of what once knew nothing but dirt, raised entirely by the living to be cut to death by the same species.
There were some tulips admist eucalyptus branches and he drained some of the water to finally place them into the vase, leaving just enough to cover half of the stems.
A homely gift to Misa, unexpectedly.
Light carried them over to the kitchen table, the center clichéd exposed to the core heat of sunrays. Cursing himself for forgetting to dry off his hands, he made sure to avoid letting a single drop of moisture touch their untreated wooden table surface and forced a dry grin from himself that lasted for a blink.
Light cringed at the sensation of sweat pooling at his pits, started contemplating his choice of fabric for the day. Quick steps barged into the walk-in closet he shared with Misa, running the tender pads of his fingers through a couple of his short sleeved options. She had used the detergent Light once used to wash with back when he was responsible for taking care of himself during the Yotsuba investigation years ago, it filled his nostrils pleasantly. The tiny sob that ripped through him awoke him at the same time and he didn't hesitate to rush into the new piece of fabric, carelessly tossing his prior white button up into the laundry basket facing the thin bench that served for comfort and practicality in the middle of the small room.
Choke on it. Don't spit out the bile.
He chewed on his lower lip, checking himself out in the mirror that stood in the corner. He was too tall for it, it was Misa's. Unable to see his face, it was like his body was severed from his head. Finding the concept grotesquely appealing, he ran his hands over his torso sickenly sweet, indulging in the sensation of being just a body. A stranger to his mind, Light Yagami, a walking corpse resembling the hole he swallows daily. Consumption, concentrate, complicate. His head was in shambles, the pieces all shattered. The case grew so large it felt like it threatened to slip through his fingers sometimes. He needed to get through it, simpler times would be his reward, his promise that he placed himself. He folded his hands in a prayer and spoke to himself as if he was already watching from higher ground, simply occupying a soul wandering from one sin of defilement to another.
___
Breathe. One, two, three times. Remain polite, now knock on the door. Inhale the dust particles waiting for verbal permission to come in, don't forget to breathe out. Wipe excess sweat off your palms, relax your brows. Nothing even happened. A ritual, the melody of his very own instructions like a mantra. Light didn't have time for paranoia, he was well appreciated in the task force. Having a reputation to keep up, he found it was only natural to go through a series of reminders. If honesty paved way, Light felt like whenever he stepped a foot into that building, he locked himself away and sent his spitting image to investigate the case only to fall victim to his own facade. Glowing in youth, in brilliance, he set himself up just like everyone else.
Torn delusions made Light the hanged man.
A cheerful face greeted him, Matsuda's brows were raised in pleasant surprise. Friendliness was no short of ankered in that man's soul, or maybe he sympathized with Light, feeling the strand of connection running through the entirety of their small group deeply.
"Ah! It's Light. Hey there! You'll be amazed by the great news," he said, and out of everyone that was present, his voice was the most tolerable. Closing the door behind himself, Light observed. A genuine sigh cut in, deeper in tone that proved Light of his father's proximity.
"Matsuda, do you wish for everyone to learn about the details of the case? Please lower your volume when the door is open, our lives are at risk."
Soichiro Yagami rubbed his temples in disdain, thin strands framing his face where the gel gave up.
"Sorry! You're right, I'm sorry."
It didn't bother Light, neither the concept of confidential information getting out nor the Matsuda typical stuttering, absurdly. Rotating his briefcase, he set it down onto the plush of the carpet next to his workspace. The leather carried a reddish hue, building a colorful contrast to the monochrome office. Grateful to be able to relax his arm, Light twisted into what felt like a more natural pose, wrists on either side of his hips dramatically, eccentric. "Gentlemen, what do you have for me?"
Aizawa's chair creaked awkwardly as he turned, his silhouette closest to the screens and illuminated by databases. His bushy brows cast shadows onto the deep sockets of his eyes, dark as pale. Light almost laughed hysterically at how valuable some of them assumed of themselves to be, he wanted to throw a bone in front of Aizawa and watch him drool on it like a dog. His face became lackluster to Light, and he opted to stare at the smaller screen on the right adjusted to point down from above. "Regarding the bug we succeeded in placing, just before I left yesterday I could hear them fighting like children until some crazy guy blew something up. Luckily we could trace their location from their conversation, one of them was pretty cooperative at the questioning and the samples resulted in high doses of burnt Ketamine. Guess that's what happens when you take dirty money, but they survived nonetheless. According to the questionings, ties to Kira garantueed but they weren't clear about it at all."
Light nodded along, putting on his prettiest smile surrounded by pearly whites, blinding. Just by being close, he bathed others in vitality, casual insanity. Every healthy participant of the human species should be allowed a certain lack of sanity, that's what Light thought.
"That's amazing! Good job. I couldn't be more proud of what we have achieved as a group this small and I sincerely appreciate the day off,"
Gently, his big hand covered Aizawa's shoulder, squeezing in an attempt of providing encouragement. "Still kinda wish I could've been of help. I guess you can never really turn those thoughts off, even when you're not working."
The circle of quiet hums of agreement and pitiful laughter swelled in contentment, dry Thursday afternoon breeze mixed with that certain smell of air conditioning. Light removed his hand, the urge to wipe mighty and it strengthened as passing seconds. The clock on the wall irritated him, but he let out an almost inaudible breath of relief when his phone buzzed with inviting rejection, Misa announcing she wouldn't be present for the time being and further. "We should get going," he said, trying to fit the shoe of the man people set their sparks of adoration in although Light was never only deconstructing. Hating unfinished business, whatever microphone he tapped, he wanted to sing into.
Not succeeding was no option, and so he drilled himself into the role of 'L' mostly in people's heads and expectations.
He made sure to keep the chair L bid his final exhale on, now so alive with Light's frantic fingers hovering over the keyboard like a twisted dance that grew haunting with it's performers obsession. Even with the disappointment daring to call itself elite, being with the task force stressed him out still and he forgot how he managed under L's knowing gaze.
The mist gathered in a forest, slowly but surely clouding his memories from what once locked around his wrist. The chains never disappeared, Light swore he could hear them when no ear listened, sinister, following him to his grave and digging six feet underground. "It looks like Misa won't be able to make it, it'd be smartest to check the questioning protocols if we have them already?"
Soichiro's soft clicking entertained mere seconds before he opened a file named after various letters and numbers, displayed throughout multiple of their screens. "Not all of them, but this one is the most significant. Though we are still unsure as to why he was so willing to talk."
"Must be of the honest sort," Matsuda said, helpful as ever. Light raised a single brow, knowing he had his back turned to his coworker and made it impossible for him to view his face. He heard Aizawa scoff next to him as his eyes wandered, scanning the furniture whilst he sent himself into inspection, come up with a quick deduction, absent in a splash of his past experiences with organized crime. Carefully, he spoke his thoughts out loud. "Usually that stems from hatred towards the people responsible for getting them busted, it's certainly a likely possibility. Please zoom into the third paragraph."
A row of mechanical noises filled the room once again, inevitable coughs occasionally drumming on skin held over mouths.
Light's pupils raced with charge as he skimmed through meaningless words to gain anything useful from what laid before him, out in the open, all for him to latch onto.
Mihael Keehl, 19 in California, USA.
Sexual Assault, unlawful possession of a firearm, burglary, kidnapping, drug distribution-
"Obstruction of Justice? That would make his statements invalid. Pretty fatal if all this served as a supplement to inject trust for now."
Light fixed his observance over to Ide but before he could cut in, Matsuda did. "That guy must be pretty dumb if he didn't think of that.. He did mention being familiar with his record after all. No, I just can't imagine him lying about this stuff."
Not bad. Sometimes that man's simple way of thinking distributed as beneficial, even. Light nodded along, their bland discussion fading into background static as he scorched over the prior paragraphs showing separately on his laptop screen.
Unnecessary collateral damage on full display, lights, camera, action. He remained to fail seeking to understand, analytical destruction holding little emotional bindings. Amongst slight fatigue, boredom nestled into the yawn escaping Light's plush lips. The thin coat of chapstick glistened whenever he spoke. Often times he found himself to be expecting the worst and receiving nothing, Light was careful not to underestimate the men involved and yet he realized he misdirected the stress onto himself for little to no reason, merciless violence preserved in his 'what if's exclusively. Over the course of the past five years, keeping his calm was something he continued to struggle with, often strangled in shallow arrogance because he was naive enough, admittedly. He thought his capability made up for it, that was how he got through every inner scream.
With everyone physically present, the rare sound of the office telephone system occupied him instantly. Acting out of anxiety rather than intellect, Light rushed out of his chair to accept the call almost instantly. Hastily he pressed the speaker button, making sure to do so before the person on the other end started talking.
"I am familiar with the man whose record you're inspecting right now. Please take his honesty for granted, he may be everything but fooling you."
Light's skin grew hot in irritation. What a shameful inadequacy of social manners. "Hello to you, too. May I ask for a name, first of all?"
Mentally, Light noted a masculine source, conscious of their topics, apparently. Without being told to, Soichiro drifted onto the equipment quickly, checking for microphones with a thunder matching heartbeat. "Don't worry, your place is not bugged, I was the one responsible for his questioning. Supposedly, you were in great need of those files. I just thought I'd check in and introduce myself as a partner. Is this L?"
So they weren't informed of L's passing? Whoever was speaking sounded young, Light felt multiple pairs of eyes on him. Studied ease expanding throughout his pores, warm to the touch still. "Introduction is a brave term for your lacking politeness. Yes, this is L."
Quiet, smug laughter regulated into an audible grin on the other side of the connection. "Thanks."
Light couldn't quite confirm a threat based on an exclusion process, or any other method for the sake of safety, it was merely his instincts that kept him sick. Although, perhaps he did turn paranoid after all these years.
Silence. Then - a repeated beeping, rationalizing the sudden call ended, his hands tingled and he set down the device.