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Aizawa’s increasingly been finding himself alone in the office with Light, in the evenings. Aizawa has been staying later in the hope of learning more about what’s really going on here, and Light...
Well. One way or another, Light always seems to find cause to stay late when Aizawa does, so Aizawa can never truly look around freely. It doesn’t feel like that can be accidental.
Light’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “I know you’ve been speaking to the Americans about your suspicions.”
Aizawa goes cold. “My suspicions?”
“Deception doesn’t suit you, Aizawa-san,” Light says, with a laugh. “You’re not the former L.”
“We should really be using our aliases,” Aizawa says.
It feels like a threat, whenever Light uses his real name. That quiet reminder that he knows it, that there’s no way to take that knowledge away from him.
“Of course,” Light says. “My mistake, Aihara-san.”
They look at each other for a few beats too long. I know you’ve been speaking to the Americans. Is this where Light shows his true colours; is this where Aizawa dies?
“I’ll admit I’ve been behaving a little oddly,” Light says. “I can’t blame you for being suspicious. I suppose I’ve just been embarrassed to find myself attracted to an older man.”
The words feel so alien, from Light’s mouth, that it takes Aizawa a moment to process them.
You don’t sound embarrassed, he thinks, numbly. You sound like you’re delivering a presentation.
“I’m sure you’ve been frustrated, since your divorce,” Light says. “If I can provide any outlet for that frustration, I’d be happy to.” He unknots his own tie as he speaks; the motion feels carefully practised. “You can be rough with me, if you’d like.”
I’ll happily be rough with you, Aizawa doesn’t say. He feels hot and dizzy and sick. I’ll break both your hands, so you can’t write.
He can’t tell himself he has a choice here. Light is testing out strategies, trying to remove him as a threat. If Aizawa doesn’t fall for this, Light may well move on to Kira’s usual method for removing obstacles.
Light will be vulnerable, in the act. If Aizawa manages to get his hands around his throat, maybe—
He can’t think about this. He won’t make himself a part of some terrible chain, killing the killers of killers.
He whispers an apology to Soichiro in his head.
“I’ll book a hotel,” he says.