Chapter 5 – Ecstatic Differences

"…" He blinked, and then, he was glaring at her again. "That's not what I meant, dammnit—" He pulled away from her; We're alone, like this I can make her cooperate. He made to backhand her across the face, but she dodged and sent him face planting towards the ground. He pulled himself up angrily to see her standing over him. Her shadow towered him, as vicious as the vacancy in her narrowed, pupil-dilating cerise eyes.

"You just won't behave." She hissed through gritting teeth; a pretty girl turned to a snarling mangy mutt bearing its rabid fangs. Ryuk stood at the sidelines, big yellow and red eyes staring at the pair in front of him in amusement; If only I had a bucket of apples!

"I've had enough." stood Raito, brushing himself off. "I don't need a stupid, little girl like you to give me problems—"

"…" She shrieked loudly, and somehow, her stance and her expression grew wilder. "I'm… not… a… fucking…problem! Raito-kun!"

He smirked sarcastically at her, turning his back on her. Ryuk whistled. She trembled from where she stood, eyes wide and wild, and mouth agape in mere horror.

"C'mon, Ryuk. Let's get out of here."

"Sure, Raito—"

Raito was taking two steps forward, and then, unceremoniously, his vision blackened.

-5-

When he came to, he was lying on his futon in his room. Blinking, he sat up and rubbed his slightly aching head. Ryuk was hovered in the corner, trembling and hugging himself with wild, disoriented eyes as he chanted "apples" under his breath. Raito bit back a pitiful smile for the unreliable shinigami. When his head was numb enough, he turned away, glancing at the double doors to his balcony. Was all of that just a crazy dream? No, if it was, why was his head searing? Did the bitch knock him out with a blunt weapon after all? He wasn't that surprised that she probably did, but he was more than a little humiliated and angry.

As he was walking away, Ryuk floating side of him, she raced at him, swinging the hilt of a shovel hard against the back of his head. The impact sent him face down, vision blackening. She threw the shovel, she had scooped it from behind a tree. She knew she had to bring something to keep her Raito-kun in line, if needed. Ryuk cackled wildly, impressed and amused. She breathed harshly from exertion of using that force on him, cerise eyes narrowed and dilated, until she calmed down enough that she changed back to that sweet façade. That saccharine smile on her face again, she stared down at her unconscious lover.

"That's for misbehaving, darling." She pouted, kicking him slightly on his side. "I try to help you, and you repay me by being mean!" Then, she glanced at the way ahead of her, and turned to Ryuk. "His house is tapped, right?"

"Raito says it is."

"Then, it must be. You like apples, don't you?"

"So?"

"Raito-kun sent L a message about shinigami liking apples. If there are cameras hidden in his house, you can't eat an apple without the apple looking like it's floating in midair, right? Meaning…"

"C'mon, there has to be one blind spot?!"

"You can't guess until you look." She winked at him.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Oh, I'm not going to hurt him." She giggled, and then, her eyes dilated. "Until he gives me a reason to." She whispered it against her palm. "No, I'll give him a gift. Tell Raito-kun to check his phone when he wakes up for me?" She smiled sweetly, and for good measure, she unbuckled the pouch attached to her belt, pulling out an apple for him.

"Aw, thanks!"

"Remember to find all of those cameras, Ryuk – or that'll be your last apple for awhile!"

"…"

"Raito, check your phone."

Raito didn't raise his eyebrows, but he hesitantly grabbed his phone from the desk anyway. Once he flipped it open, there was a message from a number he didn't recognize.

6:37 PM: Raito-kun, a gift to you from me! I hope this levels our trust.

He scoffed, and then, he glared, feeling humiliated. To realize that what had conspired wasn't a nightmare… He gritted his teeth, checking through his phone. Some unfamiliar app pulled up onto his screen forcefully, and there were various timed entries displayed. He raised his brow, confused.

January 3, 2006, 21:15 PM: I'll discover a diary that tells the future from my phone.

A future diary? Raito almost snickered. As if…

January 3, 2006, 21:15 PM: There's 64 surveillance cameras in total in my room.

Sure there is. This girl… she really thinks she's smarter than me, doesn't she?

"Hey, Raito."

Raito clamped his phone shut, setting it down on the desk and walking to his bookshelf.

"I checked…" said Ryuk through his spasms. "There's 64 cameras in this room!"

-5-

Kurusu sat in his office, raking his fingers through his dark hair turning gray. Only yesterday he was reported to of the many retreats from the Tokyo Police, all because of the Kira Case. The understaffing was a problem, and Kurusu was receiving most of those retreaters in his station. Now, he was overstaffed, and it didn't help that he had… extra help with cases. He shuddered, thinking of that certain justice-fanatic. The Kira Case was notorious, and it demanded more attention than the others, he knew, but what could he do about it? Could he change the strong-willed opinions of a thousand men treasuring their lives for their families, for their lovers, for their friends?

He had the rights to, but his own weak heart stopped him from doing so. He thought of tubes sinking into sweating, pasty flesh; he thought of breathless, bloody hacking from a blistered mouth; he thought of bloodshot brown eyes rolling back into the head, never to open and stare back at his face again, and he jumped in his chair, palming his face as the tears stung his eyes. He clamped his eyes shut, holding his head in his hands; Oh Yoi, my poor son… what have I done to subject you to such cruel, twisted fate? My son…

Kurusu gritted his teeth, sobs and cries threatening to escape him but he swallowed the bitterness down his aching throat. He had to be strong. He was a chief, goddammnit. He had to pretend that he was apathetic, that he was strong, and that he was fucking invincible; show the littlest of emotion, and bang, you're a dead fucking man, Kurusu. Yet, the images of his son on that white bed in that white gown, turning white, sweating white, and just… slowly drowning into all of that cleanly whiteness… Kurusu gasped soundlessly, the tears falling onto his desk, staining paperwork he neglected.

Where had the innocent days gone? It was just yesterday that his son was healthy and young, and Kurusu was pushing him on a playground swing, his mother sitting on the park bench across, smiling happily. Kurusu pushed him too hard once, and his son went flying, spraining his ankle in the fall, but in his crying, Kurusu was there to hold him and comfort him and tell him that it would all be okay, and back then, he was fucking right. His son's ankle healed, but nowadays, cases flooding the city and the sickness deteriorating his son from the inside, he couldn't be his father anymore. He couldn't comfort him. He couldn't fucking tell him it was going to be okay when it wasn't, and he knew it wasn't… His weak heart, his dying façade, and the last of that strength waning away, all his raw desperation attempting to tighten the dam of his overflowing sorrow, and no matter whose little boy it was, Kurusu couldn't stop himself from just… from just feeling like it was his own son.

It was another slow day in his office, Kurusu sat there, reading through reports and glancing out his office window. A knock on his door made him straighten and turn back. He said,

"It's open."

A pale boy with short silver hair and blood red eyes burst into the room. He'd been coming and going into this station quite often, Kurusu knew. Akise Aru, he had overheard the boy cheerily introducing himself to the other detectives and policemen. He was comfortable in his own skin to a point that he may have lacked humility. May have. The boy was only twelve, and he was always walking through restricted areas, always skimming through confiscated files he snatched from others nonchalantly, and always thinking that… he owned the goddammned place. What the hell was this kid's deal? Kurusu remembered asking every time he saw him, and Nishijima would hurriedly trail after Akise to prevent scenes from happening that happened anyway.

"Kurusu-sama!" He cried, bowing once, and then, he set all kinds of things down on the chief's desk; bagged pieces of evidence like scrap metal, loosened or dented screws, photographs of a forest site, and a tape recorder. "It's all for that Mysterious Maulings Case!" He beamed.

Kurusu stared blankly at the boy. He didn't see an adult or a teenager. He saw a little boy. He saw a little boy with unruly silver hair in a wavy disarray; he saw a little boy playing dress up in an imitation of adult attire with that black tie around the collar of that white button up and the dress shoes to match; and he saw a little boy that had nothing better to do than try his hardest not to be a little boy. This had happened for the fifth time already, and Kurusu, so stressed and so restless had little patience for trivialities. Akise's beam fell, and as if he was expecting Kurusu not to reply, he continued,

"My title has a nicer ring to it, don't you think, Kurusu-sama? Oh! I have a suspicion that it's not an animal, but a mechanical animal controlled by someone. I was scouting the forest just last night, and I found all of these loose screws in that bag there, and then, the footprints looked too unnatural—"

"Akise-kun!" cried Nishijima, running in and paling immediately, with widening brown eyes. "I am so sorry, chief! I keep telling him not to bother you, but—"

"This is no place for children." said Kurusu stoically.

"…I'm not a child!" Akise glared petulantly, lips twisting to a contradictory pout. "I'm an adult! I gathered all of this evidence just for your advantage, and I've done it before, I've proven myself time and time again, don't you see? I'm a detective, like you—"

"No, you aren't a detective." hissed Kurusu, leaning over and towering little Akise like a monster from the opened, dark closet. "You're just a kid pretending to be a detective, a little too into playing dress-up than the normal, I'll give you that. Children like you should be playing in the park or spending time with your parents. Goddammnit! I'm sure you're worrying your parents right now! Do you have any idea how—" Akise's red eyes stung with tears and he staggered back clumsily, in shock and in some kind of pain.

"Chief, stop!" cried Nishijima, his own eyes stinging with tears as he ran over and pulled Akise into his arms.

"I've told you to stop bringing him around, Nishijima. Goddammnit… you never listen to me…" Kurusu palmed his head, growling. "Just get the fuck out of my office."

"…" Nishijima turned away, walking out and holding trembling Akise in his arms tightly.

Kurusu palmed his face tightly. He shouldn't have snapped like that, but all he could see when he looked at Akise, or any other child, was his son inside of them. The longer he sat there in silence, loathing himself and the world around him, the more he was coming to a decision about something. He picked up his phone from the desk, dialed, and spoke with Nishijima, requesting for an impromptu meeting outside of the station, in the nearest diner. He stood, pulled his trench over his suit jacket, buttoned it up, and was off. He made the rounds around the station, locking up after everyone, as he stayed the latest than anyone else. He didn't immediately walk to the diner. Instead, he went up to the rooftop and snapped the signal on. The signal illuminated, projecting on the dark, night sky was a lone red eyeball with the number 12 on it. Waiting, Kurusu lit himself a cigarette and smoked off his stress.

"Tooooh!" Kurusu glanced up from the rooftop floor as someone in black spandex landed right in front of him. "What did you assemble us for, Kurusu-san?!"

"Listen, Twelfth," began Kurusu solemnly. "I've been thinking about this for awhile, and, I've decided that I want to be involved in the Kira Case."

"But Kurusu-san, your life! Are you sure? Not that I discourage you, Kira must be subdued, after all!"

"I know." Kurusu's valued his life from family, but then Uryu came along, and the determination to capture her became such an intense obsession, his wife and he ended up divorcing, and then, he valued his life on being a strong enough example for his son, but then, his son fell ill and Uryu disappeared. He had nothing. He had no one. What was there for him to live for, if everyone and everything is really nothing? "I'm leaving my position to you, Hirasaka. You'll control the station however you want, I trust you enough and I know you'll lead them by the true means of justice."

Hirasaka flexed and heartily, cried out,

"You know I will, Kurusu-san! I won't disappoint yooou!" Then, the red eyeball vigilante leaped off into the dark and silent city of Sakurami.

Kurusu sneered halfheartedly, switching the signal off and making his way. By the time he made it to the arranged meeting in the diner, the two of them were already there. He sat opposite of Akise and Nishijima. Nishijima wore his khaki suit, seasoning his late-night coffee with mild measurements of sugar and creamer, dark bags of sleeplessness and contemplation under his brown eyes. Akise, beside the brunette, stared down at his lap silently, hands folded on the table. Around Kurusu, Akise never wore his ties, button-ups, or dress shoes; he wore his blue jacket zipped up all the way, plain pants, and tennis shoes.

"What did you call us for, chief?" asked Nishijima gently, hesitantly. He smelled the smoky stench on Kurusu, and usually, he would question him, because whenever he smoked, it meant he was stressed out, but lately, Nishijima doesn't feel like he has that place to ask him anything anymore. Akise glanced at Kurusu's hands, knowing better than to look him in the eyes; Why did you tell Nishijima to bring me? You never tell him to bring me…

"Well, this is something I had been thinking about for awhile now, and I finally decided. I'm going to Tokyo. I'm joining them to solve the Kira Case," said Kurusu. "I've left my position in Twelfth's hands, and wanted to let you know before I left, is all."

Akise only listened, straight. Nishijima's eyes widened, and then, he stared at his cup of coffee. He was thinking of unruly, long and purple hair. He was thinking of aged amethyst eyes, full of visions that she shouldn't have seen so young. He was thinking of the beautiful, hourglass body of her that he shouldn't feel so lustful, that he shouldn't feel so loving, that his cheeks shouldn't flush and his heart shouldn't pound faster in his chest whenever he thought of any of her. He clamped his eyes shut. It would be so much easier if it was only lust. It would be so much easier if he wasn't a detective. It would be so much easier if she wasn't a terrorist, but she was gone. She was missing, and all he had to barely keep him grounded was Akise.

Akise smiled wryly at his lap. The silence was making him remember that time in the office. He was inwardly cringing from the dripping venom audible in Kurusu's harsh tone. He was aching from the inevitable of what was to happen if he did this or that. There were always consequences to something, he knew that, but what was there left? If Nishijima left him, what and who did he have? All he would have was an empty place to come home to from another day of playing friends with the one he loved. And that's all that there was to his everyday life. Without being a detective, without Nishijima, without knowing the currents of crime and case, Akise was nothing but a shell of who he used to be.

"If you don't mind me asking, Kurusu-sama," Akise began, looking up from his lap. This was presumptuous of him, he knew, but he needed to know the reason. "Why did you ask me to come here? I'm only in ninth grade, after all, and…" His lips quivered, lowering his head more to hide the hurt still inside of him. "This is confidential information for you and Nishijima, isn't it?"

"Don't be blind of yourself," said Kurusu softly. "Akise, your deductive skills are reasonable enough, perhaps Twelfth would consider you. Also, I wanted to apologize to you for what I said to you those many years ago. That was uncalled for, and I'm really sorry."

"Don't sweat it, Kurusu-sama." Akise smiled small, then glanced at Nishijima.

"…I…" Nishijima trailed off at first, and then, he narrowed his eyes, staring straightly at Kurusu. "I want to go with you, chief."

Kurusu blinked, briefly taken aback.

"Are you sure about that?"

"…I don't want to stay here, and continue on her case anymore. It's bothering me too much, chief." He stared down at his coffee. "I need a break."

"If you're going, I'm going to come with you!" cried Akise.

"No, Akise-kun." Nishijima turned to him, smiling small. "I want you to stay here with Twelfth."

"But Nishijima…" Akise's eyes were burning so much, he was sure tears were stinging his eyes. "I don't know what to do if you aren't here, and what if you don't…"

Nishijima hugged Akise tightly, smiling weakly. Akise buried his face in Nishijima's shoulder as the tears fell, and his grip tightened. Kurusu's weak heart wrenched for the two of them, and he wanted to tell Nishijima to stay with Akise, because out of his own experience, he regretted leaving his son behind to fall ill when he wasn't there to be with him. But he didn't. This was Nishijima's choice.

"Just this once, Aru…" Nishijima whispered against Akise's hair softly, and then, against his ear. "let me be the adult figure I should have been for you."

"You are an adult!" cried Akise again. "Please don't leave me here by myself, Masumi-kun! Please!"

"…I love you so much, Aru." His voice cracked, his own eyes stinging with tears, and Kurusu had to turn away to hold in his own composure. He lit another cigarette, silent. "That's why I have to let you go…"

Akise sobbed and cried, trembling, and clinging tight to his guardian. Nishijima held him and comforted him with all he knew. And Kurusu stared off into the squalid emptiness of the diner, preparing himself for Kira. Preparing himself for death.

-5-

"Why is he checking his phone so much?" asked Soichiro worriedly.

"It's normal for a teenage boy to be drawn to his phone." L pressed his thumb against his lip. "Who is he talking to, I wonder?"

Raito couldn't believe it. Everything his phone predicted so far came true. He scrolled through the entries for tomorrow. And one of them that caught his attention read,

January 4, 2006, 7:45 PM: A fake Kira will impersonate me and broadcast a liable message.

He had to talk to that girl again, but when?

Author's Note: So, to tell text messages and entries apart from here on out is to keep in mind that entries will be fully dated, but text messages will not and timelines won't have regular text beside it, as it's just informing you of the day, the month, the number, the year, etc. Just a head's up! -Winter