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Light comes home on the eighteenth day of writing names to find Ryuk gone.
He's not on the ceiling, where he's usually grinning wide when Light's eyes crack open — hopefully Light gets used to it one day; Kira can't keep almost having a heart attack every morning — and he's not under the desk, and he's not half-dissolved in the bookshelf, and he's not just outside the window, and by the time Light's on hands and knees to confirm he's not under the bed, the panic has risen to strangle his airway.
He told Ryuk not to go outside, damn it — what if someone saw him emerging from Light's window, what if they've already called the police, what if Dad knows —
"Hi," greets Ryuk, poking his head out from above the deer head mounted on Light's wall.
Light screams.
"Are you really gonna do that every time? Kinda hurtful, y'know."
"Why—" Light has to scramble to put the words in the right order. "Why. Why did you leave?"
"Eh?" A pause, then Ryuk shoots out from the deer head to get right in Light's face, eyes wide as he tilts his head. "You got lonely?"
Light can't help but jolt, but does successfully prevent himself from screaming again. "No! Someone could have—!"
Ryuk shrugs. "Don't worry so much. I'm careful."
Light drags his hand down his face as he leans backward. Careful and Ryuk would be antonyms in any thesaurus he wrote.
"Besides, it's not good for me, being cooped up in here all day!" Finally Ryuk rears back and hops onto the floor to do a spin, feathers tucked in. "Shinigami need fresh air, you know! We need to stretch our wings a little! We need to fly! You'd get that, wouldn't you, Light-chan?"
Light glares.
Ryuk wilts. "Sorry."
All the hyperventilating from earlier is starting up a headache infesting his temples. "Just don’t do it again."
"But Liiiight—"
Light rises to his feet, gestures at the notebook. "You wanted to see what I'd do with this thing, didn't you?"
"Yeah?"
"Then don't get me caught before I've even started!"
Ryuk's whisper of "Ooh, scary" as Light yanks out his chair and flips to a new page sounds actually sincere. Light doesn't get him at all, but whatever; that's not his problem.
He's scrolling through the usual news website archives when Ryuk breaks the blissful silence again: "Oh, but Light…"
"What."
"I need to fly," Ryuk whines, so piteously that Light twists around to find him lying on Light's bed like a convalescent. He waves a black wing limply in Light's direction. "Shinigami have these… what do you humans call them? Seasons? And if we don't use our wings enough in each of 'em then we go all bald."
Light blinks at him incredulously. That can't be true — but now that his heart rate has veered closer to normal levels, he realizes that Ryuk's wings do look less healthy than usual. His feathers have become sparser and their tips have become more frayed. Ryuk moves so constantly and rapidly that Light hadn't noticed.
He means to say how is that my problem, but somehow it comes out of his mouth as: "How long do you have?"
"Until I become an ostrich?" Ryuk solemnly checks a nonexistent watch. "Uhhhhh… five."
"Five days?"
"Five hours."
"Are you SERIOUS?" Light winces at his own volume. It's a good thing Sayu's out with friends right now.
"Dead serious," Ryuk moans. "Pleaaaaaase, Light? I won't get caught. I'm the most careful Shinigami around!"
"You're the only Shinigami around," Light mutters.
It's not his problem. It's really not his problem. Ryuk chose to be here, and it's not like he'll die without his feathers. In fact, it might be better for Light if Ryuk wasn't able to fly at all; he's told Ryuk to stay in this room no matter what and cutting off his wings would be a fantastic way of —
What the hell is he thinking?
Light shakes the image away, feeling nauseous for some reason. "Fine."
"Yippee!"
"On one condition."
"Oh?"
"I'm coming along," Light says. "I'll be able to watch for people while you do whatever you need to."
"But I could—" Ryuk shuts his trap at whatever Light's face looks like. "Gotcha."
-
Night falls. Ryuk insists on not being disguised, so Light's the one who feels stark naked as he marches them as fast as possible through the back alley he took on the night they met. No one'd noticed his screaming back then, or his flight over the connecting bridge; no one noticed him at all, which, in retrospect, he wouldn't have any other way. Light would rather die than have been seen then, and would rather kill Ryuk than be seen now. Metaphorically.
He feels on the verge of cardiac arrest the whole time, but somehow they arrive at M Yamano Tower without incident.
"Huh," Ryuk says. "Come here often?"
"You could say that."
The building's abandoned. The whole area, in fact, which is why Light picked it both a week ago and today. Part of him has always felt more at home in hollow places, despite the compulsion he has to fill his room up to the brim, and it's nice that this one is only twenty minutes' walk by foot. The lock's missing like it always is; he takes the stairs up and up and up, Ryuk fluttering anxiously behind him.
It's all too fast before they reach the metal door to the rooftop. Light's step stills.
Is this really a good plan? What is he doing? If Ryuk is seen, won't the police be able to track down Light faster since they took the same route—?
His spiral is interrupted when something cold noses its way into Light's hair.
"Wh—"
"Hmmmmm." A long inhale before Ryuk draws away, then bends over his head to grin. "Are those some second thoughts I smell?"
"Nope." And you're not funny. He pushes the door open.
Instantly Ryuk launches himself through the entrance, whooping. "Oh, yeah! Now that's the stuff!"
"Keep it down!" Light whisper-shouts.
Ryuk's "Sooooooorry!" loops through the air, almost as faint as an echo by the time Light's shut the door behind him.
Right — people-watching. That's his job. He always knew this place was far enough from the residential areas (not to mention tall enough) that no one would ordinarily arrive in time to call an ambulance, but also that there were passers-by on occasion, just like him, who might happen to hear the sound of impact. He hurries over to the edge and peers down and down and down.
Nobody.
Good.
Light stays there, staring, while the wind picks up behind his back — Ryuk must really be getting his exercise in. He memorizes all the little pinpricks of light. All the people Kira will save. All the murderers that still walk.
And suddenly his sight is blocked by a rush of black: Ryuk, somersaulting over his head to plunge into a dive right in front of him, and then — as Light falters backward — stopping just below the edge to bob his head back up.
"Hey," Ryuk says. "Doing okay?"
What?
Oh.
"Never better," Light tells him, and means it. He has better things to do these days than jumping off buildings. He has a mission. This place is a reminder of that.
"Good, because I'm doing fan-tastic!" Ryuk almost-pokes his nose. "Look at my feathers, Light-chan! Aren't they shining?"
Light blinks. It's true; already his wings look better, fuller. They glisten with the splendor of an ink-jet peacock. How is that even possible?
"Congratulations." He can feel himself smiling.
"Thank you, darling!" And Ryuk's off again. Light lifts his head up this time to witness his silhouette criss-cross the sliver of a crescent moon.
It's beautiful.
He startles himself with the thought. Ryuk is beautiful flying. Light's never going to be able to keep him. There are countless people in the Kanto region, over thirteen million in Tokyo alone, and Ryuk could abandon him for any of them at any time he felt like; the walls of Light's room mean nothing to him.
Light doesn't even like Ryuk all that much today, but a dull ache settles in the back of his throat anyway as he watches, watches, watches.
What would it be like to fly like that?
"Ryuk," he says eventually.
He doesn't raise his voice, but it's enough. Cold air rushes around him before Ryuk alights on the edge.
"What's up?"
"If your wings are fixed, let's go home."
"Huuuuuh?" Ryuk frowns, then contorts himself to look down each shoulder. "Well, five more minutes might do them some good…"
"Five more minutes might get you spotted by a bird-watcher," Light says, "and then you'll have no more fun."
"Aww," Ryuk sighs. "Has anyone told you you're really kind of a mother hen, Light-chan? You're gonna start plucking out my split ends next!"
Light's already at the door. "We're going."
"I'm not getting any fun at all," Ryuk grumbles, but thankfully Light can hear enough amusement in his voice that it's probably not worth having another panic attack over.
The trek back is once again nerve-wracking, but both of them are safely ensconced in Light's room with all its cheap imitations of the whole entire world by the time Ryuk perks up: "Hey, Light?"
"Yeah?"
"There's something I forgot to say."
If they have to go out again… "What is it?"
Ryuk pokes two of his talons together. "I don't think anyone who hasn't touched the Death Note can see me…?"
Light flings a pillow at him.