Chapter Text
It was during a cloudy sunset in Tokyo when Teru Mikami picked up the Death Note for the first time.
It had been an utterly ordinary day. As ever, his day had passed in an eventless cycle. Mikami had always found comfort into the uneventful. It provided him a sense of control that sudden upheaval never could. In fact, he'd resented change from a young age, unless it was the sort of change that offered him even more control over his life. Then, he would reconsider. Learn how to adapt. Fall into another meaningless cycle.
Clearly, this made him both the best and the worst person to gain possession of such a dangerous notebook.
There were reports of sixty-two incarcerated criminals suffering from fatal heart attacks by sunrise.
And so it began.
. . .
"I have to say," L began, though of course, he did not have to continue with this erratic train of thought and inevitably disappoint Watari. But it was a simple day, much too simple, and a distraction was necessary at this point.
"Do you?" Watari muttered.
L's lips quirked very slightly, but other than that, he made no move to acknowledge he'd picked up on the exasperation of the older man. "It seems pointless that you've allowed that one girl to board at Wammy's. I have already received no less than five attempts of Matt and Mello hacking into my system as a way to complain about her."
Watari remained unreadable. It was a bit unsettling. Whether he was annoyed, disappointed, happy, or furious, his face remained the same neutral, blank canvas. L supposed he'd inherited that trait. "I believe we've discussed this before, L."
"Yes, but I am startlingly persistent. It is one of my most admirable qualities."
Something in Watari's eyes made L wonder if that was an arguable opinion. How rude. "Her brother refused to leave their former orphanage without her. They are not used to being separated, and I presume he is very protective over her and would interpret leaving her as abandonment."
Yet another topic that the students were furious about. "Isn't the boy a bit . . . old?" L inquired, unable to keep the disdain out of his tone. He'd never met the boy or his younger sister, but he wasn't entirely open-minded. "He's seventeen already. The other seventeen-year-olds have been at Wammy's for a minimum of eight years."
"Roger believes this one is special, and therefore, an exception."
"They're all special. That's the point. If we start making exceptions now--" L cut off, noticing the intent way Watari was staring at him. As mentioned, the man was not known for random outbursts of emotion, but disapproval still managed to burn through like a forest fire. L cleared his throat. Best try a different tactic. A more mature approach.
"Do I really have to meet him?" L whined, sounding more like a thirteen-year-old than any of the thirteen-year-olds who had pestered him for the past month.
Watari stared.
L sighed dramatically, plucking one of the countless sugar cubes and dropping it into his mug of black tea. English Breakfast. Watari was so predictable. "It simply seems like a waste of time. I have been considering Near or Mello for the role of my successor for years already." Another pluck, another drop. "While each have fundamental flaws and choosing either is a troubling risk, I highly doubt this boy is different." Five plucks. Five increasingly sloppy drops. "While I'm hardly the world's best advocate for fairness--"
"L."
There was something in that tone which should have encouraged L to considerably rethink his following actions.
Unfortunately, it was massively ineffective.
"Watari," L said, mimicking the same tone. If anyone else had attempted such defiance towards the orphanage's owner, L knew, they would find themselves in regrettable trouble. But he liked to think that he and Watari were mature enough to avoid such painful circumstances.
As ever, the older man's mood remained unreadable. "You never cease to amaze me."
L beamed. Joy was unsettling on his ghostly features, especially when aforementioned joy was mildly conflicted. After all, it was difficult to determine when Watari was being sarcastic or not. "Your kindness is immensely appreciated." A pause. A forlorn glance towards the empty platter before him. "I require cake."
Watari hesitated. For one terrifying moment, L was forced to consider the horrors if Watari refused, but thankfully, he gave a short nod. However, as he turned away, L could've sworn he heard an ominous mutter of, "I require patience."
Ah. Sarcasm was a small price to pay for sweets, he supposed.
Even when it was Watari's sarcasm, which often inflicted the fear of god upon targets and innocent bystanders alike.
It didn't change his perspective, either. How brilliant or remarkable this latest, unprecedented addition to Wammy's House would not impress L. That much, he knew for a fact.
As the platter of vanilla cake, complete with a strawberry atop the cream cheese frosting, was deposited upon his desk, Watari cleared his throat. "We leave for the orphanage tomorrow at sunrise. I would, of course, recommend retiring early so you could get an early start, but inevitably, you will simply stay awake for the entirety of the evening."
"You know me so well," L said through a mouthful. Watari no longer grimaced over his poor manners, apparently resigning himself to this socially challenged lump of a detective he had opted to look after. L swallowed. "In the morning, then."
Socially challenged or not, lump or not, L was quite certain that his opinion would remain the same, thank you very much. Near and Mello were exceptional . . . despite being greatly hindered by their own flaws. They would grow. Evolve. He had witnessed them do so over the course of several years already.
He couldn't say the same about some strange seventeen-year-old boy with a troubling attachment to his younger sister.
. . .
Yagami Sayu eyed the intricate black puzzle pieces in the palm of her hand. She didn't quite understand the allure in piecing together a puzzle that only focused on the difference between matte black and shiny black. But this was far from the first time she had failed to comprehend something at Wammy's House.
She didn't delude herself into believing she was here on account of her stunning intellect. She knew it was her older brother who interested Roger. As soon as Light, already seventeen, became legal, she wouldn't be surprised if they dropkicked her out the exit.
Vaguely, she wondered if she would be able to keep in touch with Near.
Not that his name was really Near. Apparently everyone had a secret alias at Wammy's House. Near, Mello, Matt, none of these were their actual names. The only notable exceptions were herself and Light. Roger had tried, but Light silenced him with that blank, deadpanned stare that often had small children and elderly women scurrying to the other side of the road. Roger hadn't mentioned the subject since then.
"Corner." Near's monotone voice rang out in the silence of the vacant classroom. Startled, Sayu squinted down at the cluster of black pieces in her palm, before hesitantly offering Near what resembled a corner piece. With a nod, Near accepted it, placing it in its desired location.
"Who gave you this . . . pazuru, anyway?" asked Sayu. It was strange, not speaking in Japanese. She was fairly educated in English, but old habits often had her struggling for random words and substituting terms from her native tongue.
Fortunately, Near must have gone through a fascination with languages, because he always understood her perfectly. "A man."
Sayu blinked. "Okay. Neat. Um . . . which man, though? Was it Roger?"
Near shook his head. "No." His voice was dangerously bleak, but it no longer concerned Sayu. She was used to it by now. "A frequent visitor of ours. You should be permitted to meet him soon."
"Be permitted?" She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds . . . fancy."
Subtly, the corners of Near's lips quirked. He opened his palm, making an impatient noise. "Middle. Matte."
Almost all of the pieces in her hands fitted that description. With a grimace, she offered Near a random one. He stared at the piece as if it had done something to deeply offend him, before offering another small nod. With seemingly no effort, he found the proper place for it. Sayu watched him with a sigh. The natural intelligence, how everyone immediately knew the right answer; it unsettled her. A part of her couldn't wait to get thrown out.
"Why don't you get along with Mello?" For such a soft-spoken child, Sayu had always been naturally (and vocally) inquisitive. It seemed to unsettle Light. Until they came here. "You're both so brilliant. Is it really because of that whole successor business?"
Near tensed. He stared forlornly at his incomplete puzzle, as if it held all the answers in the world. "Mello is not particularly fond of me." As if that settled matters, Near reached out, plucking another tiny puzzle piece away without bothering to ask for it this time.
"Yes," Sayu said, growing impatient, "I noticed. But why is that?"
"I am prone to scoring significantly higher than Mello on all exams. This is troubling to him, as exams are an integral part in the process of choosing who will succeed L. However, Mello should not be too concerned. There are plenty of other important contributing factors he is dismissing. A willingness to act, for example, rather than linger in an indefinite stalemate."
Sayu had heard whispers about L before, but as she was such an outsider, no one bothered to provide any helpful information. She knew he was an internationally renowned detective, as Light had looked up to him when he was younger, but she didn't completely understand what all of these orphan children had to do with him. Backup in case he died on the job?
That sounded cruel for everyone involved. Including L.
Near's answer had struck a nerve. Sayu pressed her lips into a hard line. "What about Light?"
Slowly, Near peered up at her through a thick curtain of dark eyelashes. He watched her, unblinking with his perpetually wide eyes, but did not respond.
She felt the need to clarify herself. "Light has scored higher on exams than anyone else just since we've been here. Even before we were taken in, he was the top-scoring student at every school he attended. To-Oh material." She sounded like a proud parent. How embarrassing. She cleared her throat. "Doesn't that mean he'll be considered for L's role, as well?"
Near never really smiled, never displayed the slightest flicker of emotion, but he appeared to retreat into himself more so than usual after her little speech. "No," he said tightly. "The competition is between myself and Mello. L would never allow an outsider to disrupt that."
Sayu flinched at the term outsider. If that applied to Light, brilliant-minded and charmingly gifted Light Yagami, she could only imagine what the other students were whispering about her. For the first time, she wondered if Near may share their views.
Gently, she placed her handful of mismatched pieces on the floor. She felt Near watching her, it was impossible not to feel a gaze intent on penetrating her innermost soul, but she did her best not to let it bother her. She rose to her feet, suddenly towering over the small boy with his perpetual pallor. "It's nearly dinner. I'm going to find Light."
Near watched her a moment longer, calculating, before giving a curt nod. Without another word, his full attention returned to his puzzle.
Finding Light was hardly a difficult task. He had practically taken up residency in the library, and to little surprise, he was there now. Sayu hesitated, half-hidden behind one of the towering oak bookcases. Light was curled up in one of the oversized burgundy chairs by the window, where rain splattered against the glass pane. His only light was small and dim, offering a meek golden hue, but he didn't seem to mind. He drew his lower lip between his teeth, flipping another page in the ancient-looking English book. The book's spine gave a quiet protest, and he adjusted his hold on it.
She wished she could be as unaffected by things as her brother. Of course, Light hadn't always been that way, but anything lacking his stoic demeanor was so long ago that she could no longer recall.
"Are you going to hover there all day?" His voice rang out in the otherwise silent library, echoing slightly down the rows upon rows of prestigious books.
Sayu startled, clumsily knocking her elbow against the bookcase and letting out a displeased yelp. Light's lips edged into a half-smile, and he looked up at her over his book. "Nice."
She glowered at him. Despite her irritation, it was a relief to hear someone speak Japanese so naturally. She knew enough English, and she did not mind their change of surroundings too terribly, but it was impossible to avoid homesickness forever. She wandered over to her brother, her hands linked behind her back. "Light?"
He gave a halfhearted hum, sharp eyes already flicking across the pages once more.
"What do you know about L?"
That caught his attention.
Light blinked, tilting his head. "Do you mean in general, or how he relates to our . . . peers?" He spoke the word with distaste, as if he was repulsed by the idea of associating with these children, regardless of how bright they may be. He'd always been quite reclusive.
"Not in general. I know he's the most famous detective in the world. The only other detectives who come close to L are Deneuve and Coil." Cleary she had done her research. "And even they could never surpass him, everyone knows that. I know he only helps out on complicated cases, ones that seem to really fascinate him. And I know you idolized him as a child."
Light bristled. "That is not--"
"So what I'm asking," Sayu interrupted, raising her voice, "is how he relates to the orphanage. Everyone else here seems aware, but I'm not. It's unsettling. Is it some enormous secret?"
He turned the corner of the antique book, efficiently saving his place before setting it down in his lap. Vaguely, Sayu wondered if he could get into trouble for damaging the page. Then again, who would possibly notice? "It isn't a secret, from what I can tell. Just something so widely known here that people don't see the need to clarify the situation. As you probably know, several students are competing for L's detective title. He's supposed to choose one before the class graduates."
Sayu stared blankly. She hadn't sought him out for information she already knew.
Light seemed to sense her annoyance, because his lips quirked. "It seems unusual, doesn't it? Choosing an orphanage, especially one so secretive, to find your prospective successor. Just as unusual as it is that all of these children are so naturally intelligent. They were obviously recruited, but the question is -- why?"
He had a tendency of drawing things out. It never ceased to frustrate Sayu. "That's what I'm asking you."
Humming softly, Light tapped his forefinger across the hard cover of his book. "I believe that L has a special connection to this orphanage. In fact, I believe that he may have resided here at some point himself. It's the likeliest scenario. Which means that his insistence upon choosing a successor from Wammy's House comes from sentiment. It's also probable that he's working with the orphanage to recruit students."
Sayu blinked in rapid succession. She could easily see how Light had come to such a conclusion, but she had been unable to connect the dots herself. Annoyance prodded at her, more so at herself than her brother.
Apparently expecting the topic to fade out, Light picked up his book again and he returned to skimming the yellowing pages. But Sayu was never the type to let things go softly. "Does that mean you'll be considered to take over for L, too?"
Light stilled. Only someone who knew him would recognize how his knuckles whitened, fingertips suddenly digging into the book. "Possibly," he said reluctantly. He wouldn't look at her this time, she noticed. "But I would rather not."
Sayu frowned. "Why?!" She'd spoken louder than intended and they both winced, but she did not allow that to derail her. "Light, you're smarter than anyone here, and you always wanted to be a police officer like Dad was, isn't being the detective the same thing with less restrictions, and you look up to L so much, you should really--"
"Sayu," Light snapped. She fell silent, feeling like a reprimanded pet more than a little sister. "I don't want the position."
That should have shut her down. It really should have. "Why?" But it didn't.
He exhaled sharply, slamming his book shut. Dust particles flew out in all directions, and she gave a delicate cough while he remained indifferent. Per usual. "Take over for someone once they die or grow bored? Have to perfectly mold myself to fit their role, their manner of speaking and decision-making? Only choosing the most 'interesting' cases? It would be horrible. I care about justice for everyone, not justice for my boredom."
It was the most passionately Light had discussed anything for ages. For once, Sayu had no comeback, nor any other questions.
After a few tense seconds, Light relaxed, leaning back into the large chair. "Besides," he added, a trace of a smirk illuminating his features, "I'm much better than someone else's second best, anyway."
. . .
L scowled at the estate, blurring in the pattering rainfall, as if it had done something to personally offend him. It had done no such thing, of course. Wammy's House had been the closest thing he had ever had to a genuine home. But that did not mean he wanted to return simply because he had not accepted a case in a fortnight. Perhaps even world-famous detectives deserved a vacation, did they not?
Vacations rarely involved returning to childhood orphanages to observe potential future successors. In L's humble opinion, a true vacation involved an unlimited supply of black coffee with heaps of sugar cubes. And sweets. Preferably cake. Possibly a handful of strawberries or cherries per day. He was nothing if not health-conscious.
Watari had excused himself to take a persistently buzzing call on his mobile, leaving L alone outside of the orphanage. He supposed he could go inside, but he was unwilling to greet the inevitably screaming children quite yet. He was uncertain if the Tylenol had kicked in, and a headache was also not prime vacation material.
He noticed a subtle light flicker off in the orphanage's library. Intrigue abruptly pestered him, and he felt a slight draw to the building he had previously been intent on fleeing from.
"L." Watari's voice came from behind. If he had not grown accustomed to the older man's silent way of walking, he may have been surprised.
Instead L only gave a disinterested hum. "Yes, who was that? They certainly appeared inclined to speak with you."
"It was the Japanese Police Department." Watari sounded grim enough to finally catch L's interest. He turned, slouching against the gate of the orphanage as he blinked expectantly. "Apparently . . . there have been a slew of deaths across various incarceration cells. Most especially in the Kanto Region."
"And this is of interest to me . . . why?"
"You see, L," Watari said, and excitement prickled at L's skin, because it was so unlike Watari to use such a deadly calm tone unless there was a serious issue. Perhaps vacations were overrated, after all. "They all died of the same condition."
"Which condition may that be?" Stabbings and shootings were rarely referenced as a condition. L's features remained unreadable, but he would be lying to himself if he did not acknowledge the newfound excitement building in his chest.
"Heart attacks. Sixty-two prisoners, primarily in the Kanto region, none with underlying medical conditions -- all deceased from sudden heart attacks last night."