Chapter Text
L’s eyes burned from staring at the monitor for endless hours, reminding him to blink again. Watching Light in his cell was like watching a still life. And yet he barely dared to look away, even blink, as if he could miss something in that split second.
Because the signs he was looking for tended to show for only a fleeting moment, when occasionally, Light’s composure got a tiny crack and there was something else to see behind that carefully rehearsed façade.
Sometimes it was a spark of anger.
Sometimes it was something softer, almost like worry.
It made perfect sense. L had studied Light thoroughly and was highly aware of his pride. And if he indeed was Kira, and a god in his own mind, a hellfire of rage must burn inside of him.
Yes, Light had suggested being locked into solitary confinement but that did not mean it didn’t feel humiliating. Because it was.
And not even heaven knew when this would end. The control was in L’s hands now.
There was nowhere to hide in the cell, no movement that would go unseen, no privacy whatsoever. And given these circumstances, Light wore his composure much better than anyone else L had ever observed.
He sat there so still, as if he was untouchable.
And that made Light even more suspicious.
Right from the first moment L got to lay his eyes on him, Light moved like someone who was well aware of the fact that he was being watched. Before L had gotten way too close for his comfort, Light sometimes smiled as if he knew exactly how dangerous he was.
But as L had begun to zero in on him, Light had gotten more restrained.
Now his every movement was carefully calculated and planned.
His precision screamed guilt, but Light was performing innocence so well — it made it so easy to believe that he actually was.
And L could see the doubt in the others, but he could not have cared less.
Not when he was so intrigued by studying the mask Light was wearing and waiting for the moments where something in his stillness shifted and allowed L another glance into Light’s mind.
It was exciting, though it probably looked tedious from the outside – staring at a monitor on which nothing really happened. But that wait for the next crack to open — for the chance to maybe hold onto it, dig his fingers into it and unravel whatever would be found underneath — it was the best thrill L could think of.
But Light has shifted a little, lowered his head just an inch and now L could not see his eyes anymore, only the auburn strands of hair covering his forehead.
L leaned back and frowned. The coffee in his cup was cold by now.
“Ryuzaki, we just received a message from NPA headquarters,” he heard Aizawa’s voice from a few desks away.
“Two more inmates died of a heart attack. It must have happened within the last two hours; they have been seen alive by other inmates and staff earlier today.”
L nodded and started the recording of Light on his second screen, wound it back two hours, fast forwarded it again.
Nothing.
But it didn’t surprise L. People had died before, even while Light had been under his watch and Light had not made the mistake to make anything show.
Not back then, not now.
He had just been sitting there, back against the wall, eyes wandering through the room but carefully avoiding the cameras, as if he knew L waited for the chance to look him in the eyes.
Light tried so hard to appear unbothered – though L was certain that he was anything but.
“Has the identity of these two been disclosed by the media?”
L’s voice was casual. He took another sip of his cold coffee.
“Yes. But the reports date almost a year back. Maybe Kira is going through the archives now, there have been no new murders in the past few days.”
“Perhaps,” L mumbled and noted down the names, dates and media references.
“It will get more interesting when — if — inmates die of whom Light had no knowledge.”
He could see Aizawa nodding from the corner of his eye.
“Nothing new over here.” reported Matsuda from his desk.
“Misa has not looked at the news at all, she is reading the fashion magazines we gave her.”
L had given Matsuda the task of watching Misa because he was the only one who would not get bored out of his skull.
“I see. We will continue to monitor both.”
L flipped through his notes. It was so many open tabs by now.
Newspaper articles, files about their team members and their families, lists of inmates with references to their crimes and respective media coverage.
It was a mess. And L had tried a few times to start his analysis again from scratch.
Had isolated the data, had run every possible logic chain from the original evidence.
But every conclusion bent around Light like gravity.
Light was the only one who checked enough boxes for L to become suspicious.
He was brilliant. His ego of an astonishing dimension. And he was impulsive.
He could be easily provoked and even though Light tried to control this part of himself — now that he knew L was watching — tried to let his rage burn safely and controlled like a fire behind glass, L could tell it was there.
Light was everything L imagined Kira to be like — except for the school uniforms Light had been wearing before he enrolled at university.
L’s phone rang and startled him out of his thoughts.
“Yes, Watari?”
“Dinner has arrived. I will bring you the meals for you and the team and serve Light his.”
“Let me take care of Light. I wanted to have a word with him anyway.”
He got into the elevator that would take him to the floor where Light was held.
Watari was already waiting for him.
“I will have an eye on you. Just let me know when you are done and I will come and get you out,” said Watari as he unlocked the door to Light’s cell.
L held the tray with their food in his hands and nodded.
“Yes.”
Light immediately looked up when he heard the door open, though he did not seem surprised. He just looked at L with the neutral expression that L had expected.
His eyes were friendly though, and a little curious as they came to rest onto the tray in L’s hands.
“Would you like to have some food?”, L asked. “It’s Udon soup with beef.”
“Thank you.” Light answered calmly and sat a little more upright now, taking his bowl from the tray. His eyes rested on the second bowl with identical content.
“Are you having dinner with me?”
“Would you object?”
Light just shrugged. “It’s not like this is my room, so I probably have no say in this either.”
He tried to keep his voice casual. But his jaw was too tense for L to buy it.
“I would respect your wish to be by yourself, though,” L said, but then — without waiting for a reaction — added a “Shuffle over,” so he could sit next to Light on the bed.
Light’s eyebrows twitched at the order, but he didn’t say anything.
Just quietly made space for L to sit down next to him.
“Is this fine? Eating on your bed?”, L asked. It certainly wasn’t a serious question and for a split-second Light felt tempted to ask him to sit on the floor instead.
But he bit his tongue just in time before any sharp comment could leave his lips.
“Yes. That’s fine,” Light therefore just replied and began eating. Trying not to mind L.
There was no table and no chair in the cell. Besides the bed, the room was equipped with a toilet, a sink and a small closet in which Light had stuffed the few belongings he was allowed to have in the room with him.
A few pairs of fresh clothes. A towel. A toothbrush.
“My apologies for the room. I know, it does not exactly meet the definition of comfort.”
“Don’t worry about it. I suggested doing this and I will put up with it. But I must admit, it is extremely boring.”
“Don’t complain. At least you get something to eat. What about me?”, Ryuk huffed.
He sat next to the door and leaned against the wall, watching Light with a disgruntled look on his face.
Light made sure not to flinch.
“My apologies,” L repeated, eyes resting on Light’s face.
Whatever reaction he expected, Light chose not to show anything.
“What time is it now?”, he calmly asked instead.
“Seven,” L answered and began to thoughtfully chew on the noodles.
“I see.” Light gingerly adjusted the chopsticks between his fingers.
A hint of disappointment in his voice, as he added: “Time really does stand still in here.”
“I can imagine.”
There was a moment of silence while L carefully counted the seconds until the discomfort would make Light speak again. Almost a minute, only.
Light was without doubt able to remain silent for much longer if he felt the need to, but maybe — perhaps — he actually was grateful that he now had someone to speak to.
To make time pass faster, even just a little.
“How’s my dad doing?”
“Haven’t spoken to him yet. Watari is probably serving him dinner right now.”
“I see,” Light answered. He looked and sounded genuinely concerned and since he wore the expression in plain sight, L suspected that this was part of his script.
But just because it was, did that mean it was insincere?
L’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“We keep him in loop of any developments in the case.”
“I guess it’d be inappropriate for me to ask if there are any news?”
“Yes.”
Light just nodded. He hadn’t expected any other answer and neither did he actually need to ask. He remembered exactly how many people would die today, tomorrow, or in the upcoming weeks.
He had the upper hand.
L could tell him how much he suspected him all he wanted — Light was certain that he was at least as doubtful as he was suspicious.
And he would wait patiently until L’s evidence crumbled day by day, just as doubt would grow. The little favour he was giving L by agreeing to be put into solitary confinement — by giving L the desperately desired power over him for some time — the reward of this would be Light’s to claim.
And freedom would taste even sweeter, once he had studied the structure of the concrete walls, day in day out. Until then… He blew out his cheeks and shrugged.
“Well then, what’s the weather like?”
Light could not have cared less. But if he bored L with questions like that, he might get to the point more quickly.
His visit surely had an agenda and Light side-eyed him carefully, but all that L gave him to analyse was a smirk.
“Is this a serious question?”
“No. But as I said, I am bored and since you came over but will not share any news on the case, what else are we going to talk about?”
“That’s a good point,” L remarked as he tried to catch more noodles with his chopsticks. “Should I bring you a few crossword puzzles next time? So you have something to keep yourself busy with.”
Light sighted: “I’d rather have back my notes for university that you took. I had hoped to use my time in here to prepare for the upcoming exams. And I don’t see how they would be relevant to the case.”
L blinked. “So you honestly believe that you will be out of here in time for your exams? They are only two weeks away.”
“Yes.” Light answered, his face as serious and convinced as his voice.
“I know that I am not Kira. And I am sure that the murders will continue while I am in here. Unless, of course, Kira somehow knows that I am locked in here and pauses his activities to frame me.”
The corners of L’s mouth twitched slightly.
“What a convenient excuse for you. Any evidence that you might be Kira is actually Kira trying to make you the scapegoat?”
“How convenient for you — that Kira kills in a way that leaves no trace, and then I’m the one who has to prove it wasn’t me,” Light shot back, his eyes sparkling with confidence.
“Mhm. It indeed is.” L stared at him, silent and unreadable.
Light held his gaze for a moment — then looked down at his soup.
“Anyway, I really need my study materials back. If I do not get enough credits this term, I could get expelled. Do you have any idea how hard it was to get into that university? I studied every day for over a year.”
“I sat through the same entrance exams, remember? I found them rather tedious, to be honest. I expected more.”
Light sensed the lie and bit his tongue, trying to ignore the insult in L’s claim. He exhaled and focused on dissolving the rage and the desire to shoot back.
“I still don’t get it,” Light said instead, keeping his voice calm.
“In preparation for the test, we had to read an awful amount of literature and even if you can remember everything after reading it only once, it would still cost you a lot of time to read through it all. And I don’t know where you got the time from.”
L’s answer consisted of a coy, mysterious smile.
He didn’t say a word, thus forcing Light to continue.
“You probably bribed the university… or blackmailed one of the teachers to give you the same score that I had.”
L’s smile morphed into a smug grin. “You might be onto something.”
It became increasingly straining for Light to maintain his composure and keep the triumphant look from showing. Instead, he narrowed his eyebrows and frowned in disapproval.
“I knew it.”
“Well, you didn’t get it quite right,” L continued, sounding infinitely pleased with himself. “I didn’t have to ask. I just got myself the questions before the exam. The rest was easy.”
“Did you break into university at night, or what?”
“Virtually.” L shrugged. “It wasn’t even fun. I would have expected that a renowned university like this does a better job at cybersecurity.”
Light sighed, letting it sound like defeat.
“That’s cheating. Other people study hard to get admitted. And you just took someone’s spot. What for, actually? Couldn’t you just ask my dad to bring me to the headquarters?”
“I could have,” mumbled L thoughtfully. “But no… that would have been lame. It was much more fun to see your face when I showed up at the entrance ceremony next to you. Not to mention the faces of all the other students.”
A smirk as his gaze wandered towards Light before he added: “I will treasure this memory forever.”
“You have a twisted sense of fun,” Light said even though he had to admit that it was somewhat funny — from an objective point of view.
Being in his shoes, it was maddening above anything else.
“There might be some truth to that. But don’t expect me to apologize.”
“Oh I never would. I don’t think you are even capable of apologizing,” Light shot back.
L frowned. “I am.”
“Really?” Light raised an eyebrow, giving him a sceptical look. He didn’t even have to pretend here, the expression was as honest as it could be.
“When was the last time you actually apologized for something?”
“Hm.” L leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling as if he expected a date to suddenly show on the concrete.
“I am barely ever wrong, so apologizing is a rare occurrence. The last time must have been… I think it was about ten years ago, when I almost burned down the kitchen at home. By accident, of course.”
Light couldn’t help but laugh. It was certainly not the answer he had expected.
“Okay, now I’m curious. How did that happen?”
“It was late at night and I was hungry,” L shrugged. “I tried to make pancakes but ended up falling asleep on the kitchen table. The rest is history.”
He smiled, just a little, and scratched his neck.
“Since then, we always keep cereal bars around.”
“Your poor parents,” Light said with a smirk. “Looking after you surely is quite a challenge. Being the world’s greatest detective apparently doesn’t stop you from almost killing yourself. Over pancakes.”
“I eventually learned how to make them.” L sounded defensive. Shoulders slightly stiffer.
“As I said, that was a long time ago.”
“Well, I can’t wait to see you apologizing to me for all of this,” Light said, gesturing towards the cell’s plumbing unit. No wall between what passed for a bathroom and the rest of the cell. Not even shower curtain.
“It really is a high price but seeing a top-notch detective admitting he was wrong? I bet the look on your face will be worth every second.”
L frowned as he felt the tide turning against it. Something he should have foreseen.
Yet he’d shared the story — and naturally, Light would seize any chance to taunt him.
“Let’s wait and see,” was all L replied. Then he glanced at Light’s now-empty bowl of soup, suddenly feeling an urgent need to leave.
“Are you done?”
“Yes.” The triumphant, almost dangerous grin on his face had subsided to a casual smile.
“Anything else you need before I go back to work?”
“No.”
“Alright then.” A controlled expression on his face, L put their bowls back onto the tray and stood up.
“We will serve you breakfast tomorrow once you are awake.”
Light nodded quietly, not taking his eyes off L, somewhat bemused by the sudden change of L’s mood.
Heh, it was unbelievably obvious that he got to him with his implication that L would eventually owe him an apology.
Good.
“In the meantime, just say it if you need something.” He pointed at the camera on the ceiling.
Light nodded.
“Thank you.”
He watched impassively as L waited by the door until Watari came to let him out. He couldn’t have been far away, but for a few seconds, Light enjoyed seeing L trapped in the room with him.
Watching L stand there awkwardly, studying the structure of the concrete wall in silence, trying not to look at him — what a moment.
Light wasn’t sure if it was pride or embarrassment that kept L’s eyes on the wall, but either way, he’d feed on that image for the rest of the night.
Boredom was already crouching in the corner, ready to pounce — and any distraction was welcome.
Of course, it was not only boredom crouching at the door.
“Watching you guys is better than any soap opera I could imagine,” Ryuk teased once the door fell shut behind L.
“It’s such a shame that I can’t bring any popcorn in here.”
Light blinked — their agreed-upon signal for “yes.”
He wouldn’t lie, having L around was more entertaining than it should be – considering that he was a threat to Light’s life and his vision for the new world.
But with nothing else to do, why not indulge in some light teasing. It might be unwise to take it too far, but he could surely outplay L a little, here and there. Just for fun.
L might be the world’s greatest detective, but he was still human and therefore must have some weak spots. They should not be too hard for Light to spot.
L was clearly a social outcast. Probably hadn’t spoken much to anyone other than Watari in the past few years. Maybe ordering some FBI agents around.
But he likely wasn’t used to anyone challenging him, teasing him while looking him straight in the eye. When L could not comfortably hide behind his screen.
Light smirked faintly and rubbed his eyes, using the gesture to shield his face from the camera that pressed against his skin. It would be unwise to let L see him smile like this. There was a fine line not to be crossed.
L obviously didn’t have to come and visit him and bring the food himself.
He could ask anyone to do it, and Light was not exactly keen on the company of any other task force member.
He pushed the thought aside for now. The day where L would have to apologize to him would come sooner or later, and no teasing in between would make him reach his goal faster.
Patience was key – and when the day came, Light would drink in the expression on his face and carefully keep this memory alive in his mind until his last breath.
“I’ll have a shower,” he muttered, more to himself than to Ryuk, and rose from the bed.
He had gotten used to surveillance back when L installed cameras in his home, so being watched in the shower wasn’t exactly a new sensation. Still, he should at least act uncomfortable.
L didn’t need to know that Light had noticed the cameras back then.
He quickly undressed and stepped into the shower, turning his back to the camera. The concrete felt cold under his feet, but the water warmed it fast.
For a moment, as the heat soaked into his skin and the tension slipped from his shoulders, Light closed his eyes.
He let himself enjoy the sensation — muscles loosening, thoughts quieting.
He could almost forget where he was.
Almost.
He sighed and reached for the bottle someone — probably L — had placed on the shower floor. Without checking the label, he squeezed the gel into his hand and began to lather his skin… and froze.
It smelled like artificial raspberries. And vanilla.
Obtrusively sweet. Unmistakably feminine.
Ugh.
He grabbed the bottle for a closer look.
Wasn’t this the same shower gel Misa had done ads for?
It was definitely not designed for men.
Light turned and stared directly into the camera.
“Ryuzaki… seriously?”
He scrubbed faster, trying to get the scent off, but it clung to his skin. No matter how long he tried to wash it off, it didn’t help him any.
Growling, he eventually grabbed a towel and wrapped it around himself.
“It stinks,” he muttered, stomping toward his wardrobe.
“You’d better bring me something else tomorrow — or I’ll rub this crap into your hair the second you turn your back. And yes, that is a threat.”
Ryuk, hovering nearby, shook with laughter.
“Oh boy… this is so good,” he chuckled as Light yanked open a drawer. “I’ve got to see his face — hang on.”
He vanished through the wall, and Light dropped onto the bed, huffing, his hair dripping, fingers clenched in the sheets. Silence settled over the room for a moment.
Then Ryuk returned, still giggling.
“I wish you could’ve seen it. He actually laughed. I didn’t know L was capable of that.”
Light scowled deeper. “Haha. You think you’re funny, huh?” he hissed, not bothering to look at the camera.
Then he exhaled, long and quiet, and slid beneath the covers.
L had laughed. Well… let’s see who’d get the last laugh in this.
Still, a small part of him envied Ryuk.
Because he could walk through walls.
Because he had seen L laugh.