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Light was now more sure than ever that Ryuk was a lying bastard, and fate existed.
He knew this because fate hated him.
This was something he had come to realise while rousing on his side in a moving van, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. It was cluttered and crowded, and his head hurt like hell. He wiggled his jaw, feeling it click and crunch back into place as he tried to stifle the half-groan-half-whine coming from his compressed lungs. Light was lying practically face down on the dirty floor, layed out- in the way a fish out of water was- a flopping useless limb- but his main focus was trying to figure out why- and why his head ached like someone had hit him with a steel pipe-
Oh yeah.
That tender pain in his cheekbone was probably from the fall onto the curb then, after the attackers jumped him on his way home. It was coming back to him in frames and blurry snapshots- the screech of tyres, the clank the pipe had made upon contact with his skull, the way he had crumpled like a wet paper bag onto the pavement. Tears welled in his eyes just a little as the pain became more real (and the humiliation burned).
Who was Kira to get knocked out by a group of random guys?
Who were they to have the right to do that to him?!
The tape (tape?!) covering his mouth had loosened from the drool that had seeped from the corner of his mouth as he dozed and he gasped a fragile breath when it flapped off. His arms and legs- both bound behind him- were tied with something coarse and thick, wound many times around. Had… had his kidnappers seriously used rope? What in the 1930s train track-tying nonsense was this?
The people- rough people, gang members he was sure- who were seated on small benches in the back with him seemed to notice his return to the waking world and chuckled amongst themselves. In making eye contact with one of them, Light took the initiative to take his chance and try to wriggle out of the bindings, only succeeding at doing a very poor version of the worm instead, in which he just flailed on the floor and managed to bang his head rather hard again on the wall. While all his senses decided to scream FUCK that hurt, Light’s mouth had just made up its mind to scream at the men to release him at once but before he got the chance to almost certainly get himself killed by means of being an annoying bitch, one of the gang members took his turn.
“Aw, looks like Yagami’s perfect son isn’t doing too great,”
How must he look right now? Was his face bruised? Was his hair sticking up? Oh no, if the fall didn’t ruin his suit then this floor certainly did. He had to look his best when he killed these men.
“Oh I bet he’s just gagging having to put up with us lowlives in his personal space.” A second man joined in, then leaned closer. “Aren’t ’ya, Yagami,”
“Get the fuck away from me.” Light spat, literally, onto the man who had leaned closer.
“Have it your way then.” He shrugged. “Guess you’re sleeping through the rest of the trip. Have fun!”
He heard a clash of metal from god knows where, and for a moment he didn’t even feel the white hot pain for the stars and fun spinning sensation before it hit him like a semi truck and the void drank him up again.
—-
When he came to once again, Light took an even longer second than before to discern where he was. His eyes blinked out of sync, one lid sticking shut for long enough for glowing rings of colour to burst before he forced himself awake and stable.
He wasn’t in a grimy van anymore. That was nice. What wasn't nice was realising that that bright stain right in front of his eyes was someone’s face leaning excruciatingly close, close enough for their foreheads to probably be touching. He jolted backwards- or tried to, at least. His whole body seemed slow on the uptake- possibly a result of being bashed on the head multiple times in the past few hours- but even when it did react like he wanted it to, Light instead felt the bindings around his limbs tug on something solid. Something beneath him. Because of course he was tied to a fucking chair now and he’d managed to pull it out from underneath himself.
He had rocked it violently backwards, but his attempt at counterbalancing the flail only caused it to careen forwards instead, wobbly chair legs tilting off the floor until he felt the now familiar pain of his chin hitting the floor. He tasted blood through his clenched teeth. Stars spun in his vision. Vomit filled his mouth while he tried to force the world to stop spinning, the sensation so awful that for a fleeting moment he didn’t care about the pain so long as he wasn’t conscious any more. He spat and hacked onto the ground , blood and vomit speckling the concrete. The whole world around him was still muffled, tinnitus and blood pressure refusing to let speech come into focus even as he gathered someone must be speaking to him. Light kept his eyes screwed tightly shut, his heavy, wheezing breaths only pausing to throw up again, this time on someone’s shoes. He figured they must belong to whoever had been up in his face a moment ago- oh yeah, that.
He was kidnapped.
What the fuck?!
“You idiots.” A voice said, and Light noticed the English speech but with an odd accent, not one he’d really heard before. “I told you not to kill him!” It was funny, the voice almost sounded artificially deep, as if someone young were trying to sound intimidating.
“He’s not dead, boss, just a little…” someone replied, trailing off.
“He's just vomited blood onto my boots.” The first voice snapped back at the same time as a shudder worked its way up Light’s whole body and as it wracked him, forced a whimper from his chest. “Even if he's not dead now we’d better pray he lasts long enough to make the deal. Anyway, we don’t want them trying to kill us any more than they already do, and beating their precious IT nepo baby to death is not the best way to achieve that.”
Wait, what?
This wasn't because he was Kira?
“Open your eyes, sleeping beauty.” The voice demanded, suddenly closer. Light came to realise that his face was no longer pressed into the concrete, but tipped forwards in the air. The man in front of him, the one who had been talking, had his chair propped up in one hand, holding his fate in the balance from crashing to the floor again. The seat was still only balanced on two legs, but he was being held forwards to eye level with his captor.
The light was unbearable to his swimming vision but after a few excruciating moment of blinking and choking down more bloody sick, Light finally took in the guy who seemed to be in charge of this whole thing. He was young, probably younger than Light himself, and had a… blond bob? And was wearing a frankly extravagant coat, reminding him a little of ryuk’s plume with all its feathers and leather. His piercing blue eyes ogled him like an attraction at a zoo. Light assumed he probably looked a little worse for wear by now (just running his tongue around his bitter-tasting mouth, he felt a chip or two that he was certain were new), but this guy was staring like he was an alien or something, like it was his fault for being here.
“You- you kidnapped me.” He slurred, words not coming out as sharply as he’d meant them too. Once again, it felt like his body was on delay from his brain- which in of itself felt as if it were a system which had spiked to 10000 ping and kept crashing every time he tried to form complex thought.
“Don’t tell me you fucked up his brain as well as his face,” bob-guy hissed to the large looking men behind him. Light scowled, or tried to, but his face was made of putty at the moment so he really wasn’t sure what expression he was making. “Yeah, we did kidnap you, Yagami. I guess I should apologise for the way my guys treated you, but from the sounds of it you weren’t the best kidnappee either,” he smirked, “anyway, you shouldn’t have too long of a stay here, assuming your father cares more about you than he does that notebook.”
Oh fuck this was really bad, actually.
Because Light knew that his dad did care more about him than the death note. And if they were implying what he thought they were-
“I’ll call him in a minute. Maybe I’ll even let you talk to him, if you can stop accidentally swallowing your tongue. Don’t want to make him think we’ve been too bad to you.”
“You have been.” Light snarled, taking extra effort to enunciate. Things were becoming easier now, with time, but thick cotton still filled the air pockets on his inside.
“Smile.” Bob-man grinned, pulling out a camera and without warning flashbanging him to hell with a click of the photo button. He handed the camera off to a man behind him, quietly ordering him to have it ready to send to the NPA Kira office.
It was dawning on Light that this may really just be the worst coincidence of all time.
These men wanted the death note. They therefore likely wanted him. But not the him they had captured, no, not the 23 year old To-Oh graduate who worked in cybersecurity in the NPA, prodigy son of Soichiro Yagami. That was just who they had kidnapped for leverage. They wanted Kira.
So. They had kidnapped Kira. To use as bait to catch Kira. Oh, the irony made him sick. So did the iron that had concussed him, and he threw up one last chestful of bile and crimson. Panting, he realised quickly that he had to decide how to play this. Be the wimpy nerd boy? A bit late for that. The arrogant son? Maybe. Kira? Definitely not. Pathetic and pitiable- begging the big scary men to let him go? God no, who was he, Misa? He just needed to get through this, then he could kill them all.
He held onto that thought even as the blond man pulled a weird red phone out of his coat pocket- it almost looked like someone had melded together a landline and a cell phone, creating an amalgamation of shiny plastic and a dimly-lit screen. No, stop, he was focusing on the wrong details. He needed to be paying attention to… to the… the spattering of damp on the floor and oh yeah that was him, that was the same stuff that coated his cracked lips and damp chin. Damn. his head was spinning. How hard must he have been hit to vomit that much? He could have sworn from his forensics classes that to throw up such a large quantity of blood at once you need to be hit in the oesophagus or stomach, had he been hit like that?
Now he came to think of it, had his throat hit the corner of the pavement too as he fell the first time? Had they got him in the sternum, just for fun? They were criminals, the mob, surely, of course they would.
Wow. that. That uh. That was a lot of blood. It probably explained how woozy, how light-headed he was feeling. Hah. Light-headed. Hold on. That wasn’t what he was-
Light tensed, and felt the bruises in his stomach all at once more acutely- no, yeah, he’d definitely been hit with the pipe there too. His head had been his main concern, he hadn’t actually paid much attention to the rest of his body yet. No matter. He needed to focus goddammit, focus on what that stupid boy was saying on the phone.
“-Takimura is dead.” bob-man paused for dramatic effect. It seemed to be working based on the tinny gasps he could overhear. He could imagine his father’s reaction, his stunned silence, his rage. “But what has been cancelled is the director’s part in it. The notebook will now be traded for… Light Yagami.”
Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, a room falls silent then erupts into a chaos it had known was coming from the moment Matsuda was the first at the office that morning.
“You're deputy director of the NPA, and Light here works there too, so I guess it’s ridiculous for me to tell you not to alert the police. But we’d like it if you moved on your own, Yagami. If the police make too much noise… we’ll kill your son… yeah, quickly, like the director.”
Light couldn't help the muffled sound of indignation that came in reaction to hearing this gang take responsibility for his killing. In return he got one of the most dirty side-eyes he had ever received and a moment’s breathing time before the kidnapper returned to the call. The call with his dad. Were the rest of the task force there? Were they trying to trace the phone? How long had they realised he was missing? Had- had Misa noticed? Surely she would have- he didn’t usually come home that late… even if sleeping in his office chair was becoming a little too frequent a pass-time than he’d like- it really did a number on his spine, no wonder L always crouched like that, maybe he was just moulded to the stupid curve of his spinny white chairs-
FOCUS, Yagami. These people want you but not you dead. They don't care what happens to you.
“I’ll now send over a picture of Takimura’s corpse. Take a nice good look and decide if it's worth your son ending up like that too.”
Even as his eyes tried to resist him, stubbornly falling shut despite his willpower not to fall asleep again, he forced his gaze to the corner the ringleader’s entourage had all turned to, not quite registering the shock of seeing his dad’s boss’ corpse. Light just stared, and then belatedly considered that he should react to seeing a dead body.
He widened his eyes and sharply gasped. He tried to mime backing away, but Mello still held his face in the balance of not slamming into the floor. Still, that had ought to do it. His chair had made a rather loud and piercing screech as he had tried to move, and all chattering fell silent on the other end of the line- now closer to his face thanks to his recent change in angle.
“That?” the man smirked, “that was your son.” for a moment the sharp look in his eyes was replaced by something deep and searching, something almost trying to be pity. “Wanna talk to him?” his tone remained the same. Playful.
All at once Light felt the shock of cold plastic against his ear as a gloved hand thrust the phone into position, even as he clicked it onto loudspeaker. The dimming static in his ears rushed back in with another wave while countless voices came from seemingly all angles over the phone. His throat was dry and bruised, and talking cracked his lips, but over the cacophony in his ears he croaked out a
“Dad?”
Everything went silent all at once. Then hushed voices becoming quieter.
“Light?” His fathers voice asked back, and if he had a little more self-awareness and/or control right now Light would have berated himself for warming just a little at the sound.
“Dad-” he repeated, suddenly with a more frantic air that cracked his voice, and the fear that had been at odds with the pain grasped him with cold spindly fingers and stuck the nails into his brain. ‘Dad please, I’m scared’ danced on his tongue, but he bit it into
”Dad please help me,” he didn’t have the strength the stop the words coming out in a childish petrified stream, nor keep his eyes brimming with tears, meanwhile though, his kidnappers didn’t look especially moved by the scene. The blond bitch himself, despite still holding onto both his chair and his phone, was looking the other way, poorly attempting to hide the eye rolls he was giving.
“Light-“ Soichiro said- more cried- as if the words were strangled out of him- “I promise you, we’re doing everything we can now- we’ll get you soon I swear- are- are you alright?”
“Dad please just get me out of here- find- and find- find a way to do it without giving them the death note.” His words were slurring together a little more as the terror metamorphosed into agitation.
“Oh, Light- are you alright- thats my greatest concern right now, not that book-“
“No Dad, you can’t, you can’t give’um the death note!” He protested. “Jus’kill them all! Kill them all now-“
“I can’t do that Light- you know that,” his voice too thinned from strangled to borderline sobbing “well get you out safe soon, whatever it takes, my son, you’ll be ok.”
“Dad-! Kill them-“
“That’s enough of that, I think.” Blond man intercepted, pulling away the phone. “You do realise that even if your father had the guts to try to kill us, he couldn't anyway? Names and faces, smart guy. Hey, José-“ he added over his shoulder. “What did I tell you about fucking with him? It’d be a shame to return Japan’s golden boy in a state like this.” He said through gritted teeth. The other man nodded sheepishly.
“Sorry, Mello. Every time he opened that mouth of his some dumb shit came out, we couldn’t help but shut him up-“
“-then put a gag in, I don’t care, don’t concuss him. Ever heard of second impact syndrome, tough guy? How’d you like a demonstration?”
Blond bob boy- Mello- sighed, and returned the phone to his own ear, then paused. He returned his gaze back to Light in all his bloody and bruised glory, and cocked his head to a 45 degree angle, like an animal trying to make more sense of the world.
“Yagami,” he said, although at first Light wasnt sure whether he was referring to his father or himself. “I never thought you’d be one to share Kira secrets. Why does your son know what a death note is?”
If there was anything that could be called ‘sobering’ for a concussion, that might have been it.
Fuck.
Light had no idea what the taskforce was spewing down the line, but he felt his stomach lurch at the thought.
“Does L know you’re leaking information?” Mello said, and Light was doused in ice water once again at the realisation that Mello knew. He knew that L was dead, and that someone had been impersonating him for years. He knew that that person was on- or at least had connections to- the task force. Light’s thoughts continued to spiral- were they going to see through L’s decision to hide criminals, were they about to realise why he knew so much, was he about to end up like Takimura, dead on the floor-
Wait, no, he killed Takimura-
So were they going to be suspicious then when he didn’t end up like Takimura on the floor-
Light didn’t stop that veering car crash of thoughts even while Mello had very clearly moved back to extorting the notebook from his father and the rest of the team. Even as Mello glanced back at his captive to check for any signs of scheming, outside of his numerous injuries, his inner turmoil did not shine through the glassy look in his eyes, nor the unflattering way his mouth hung slightly open, like he was breathing solely through his mouth (possibly caused by the solution to the equation nose + concrete but who’s really to say).
He looked perhaps more akin, to put it less flatteringly, to a poorly made wax figurine with the dyes running. His eyes still occasionally blinked out of sync like a lizard, with heavily dilated pupils despite the light in the room. The rest of his face was as much of a mess, bruised cheekbones, lips bloodstained red and still cracked- it was surprisingly stuffy in the basement they seemed to be in- his chin was coated in crusted and dried blood, rather lending him the look of a practical effects zombie in one of Sayu’a less romantic shows- not that Hideki Ryuga playing a mangled zombie stopped any of the characters from swooning, but he was getting off topic again.
“I’ll now send you a photo.” Mello said, nodding to a man who began tapping something on a laptop across the room.
The phone was still on loudspeaker from when Mello had allowed his hostage communication privileges, which meant that he got to hear all the horrified reactions to his visage. Light was 98% certain, to steal an old friend’s system, that he could hear his father crying and Matsuda- because he was sure it was Matsuda- fall and crash into the coffee table.
“You- you said he was alright!” Soichiro’s voice boomed over the speaker.
“I said he was alive. I didn’t say you weren’t gonna need to take him to hospital. Though I can assure you that it won’t be getting any worse now that he's here in LA. What’s the point if you’re coming to trade anyway.”
“Dad no-“ Light attempted to shout, but Mello simply let go of the chair for a second and he bit his tongue.
“As I said, Yagami, I don’t know why your son knows about the Death Note, but that will all be forgotten once you exchange it for his safe return. No harm will come to any of you if you just bring me the book. I’ll contact you soon with exact details. Bye now.”
“Dad-“ Light made one more strained attempt to call out, but the click of the phone snapping shut had already resonated.
He wondered if the kidnappers thought that he was just a boy pleading for his father because he was scared. That totally wasn't true. Not in the slightest. He could absolutely think straight through the ache in his brain. Just as well as normal.
When Mello dropped him backwards, he felt his blazer sleeve ride up for a moment as he swayed and the resounding force clanged like a bell in his ears. He couldn't parse exactly where his groan of pain ended and Mello’s groan of annoyance began.
“You idiots!” He barked, for what felt like the 100th time today “are you all stupid? Or have you all forgotten how to follow orders on the same day? What did I say about removing all of his possessions! And don’t give me any bullshit, he's still wearing a watch! Watches can be pretty handy, can’t they, Yagami?”
For a blood-curdling moment Light thought he really had discovered he was Kira, and his face clearly showed it because Mello smirked and grabbed his wrist, yanking his shoulder down to give him better access to the arm without freeing it, in fact tugging it further down the rope, leaving Light in the extremely uncomfortable position of having his arms unevenly bound in coarse rope with one shoulder ducked down- his suit- and god, to think he had been so worried about that not too long ago- was so disheveled now to be absolutely ruined.
Mello unclamped the watch while making distinct eye contact, face now painfully neutral, as if goading him. And he was very much in a position to be goaded right now, so Light tried to jerk back, and protested
“Don’t! That- that’s a gift from my dad!” His slurred speech was minimising now, but his words still lacked the sharpness he was used to. He probably didn’t sound that intimidating. Did he want to?
“Watches can be very useful for hiding things.” Mello continued, addressing his words to both his gang and his captive. “Cameras, trackers, recording devices.” He met Light’s eyes again. “And that’s why we smash them, no matter how expensive and sentimental they are.” With that, be ground the watch under his stupid heeled boot, and each clink of metal and glass was like another knell in Light's ears.
“Oh shit.” He exhaled, a thought he had desperately been trying to keep confined within his own sense skull. Regardless of whether he heard or not, Mello certainly realised something when he felt paper underfoot. He stopped dead.
“What's the matter?” Light tried, but his attempt at confusion tactics went unheeded.
“Why the fuck is there paper in your watch?”
“…last minute shopping list?”
“Why is there space in there for paper?”
“It just came like that-“
“And a needle? Jesus fuck, has it been used on someone? Who the fuck is an IT guy gonna be stabbing with a needle?” Each time Mello referred to him as just a tech employee part of him bristled, but even now Light knew better than to challenge him.
Mello picked up the paper like it was explosive- which it was, metaphorically of course- and the needle, and pinched them in front of his eye, his other gloves hand reaching and bringing- hold on, was that seriously a fucking chocolate bar? Was this guy not taking his kidnapping seriously or what? For a brief, haunting moment Light was reminded of L.
He snapped a corner from the bar and tilted his head to the side, just staring at the items. They were dusty now, and the paper was crumpled, but the neat lines he had folded it into were still clear. It had been intentional. It had been inserted. It didn’t come like that from the factory. It didn’t take a genius to figure that much.
After swallowing, Mello refused to break eye contact with the objects and asked in a voice eerily calmer than before
“We’re there any other items on him? A pen?”
“No, boss. A phone, a wallet, a work lanyard. Not much else. We’ve chucked all that shit out already.”
“Then why does he have paper…” he asked, almost to himself, and Light swallowed comically loud.
“What do you mean?” He murmured.
“I mean, why would you have paper on you but no pen. Unless-“ he cut himself off, and Light braced for impact because there was only one way that sentence was ending and it did not look good for him. “Unless the needle is the pen.”
Light felt like he was going to be sick again, but with how focused that blond-bobbed-bastard bitch was it didn’t even seem worth the distraction. The best he could hope for was passing out from dehydration or blood loss and not being conscious for the rest of this god-forsaken day. No one was coming to save him- Kira- because his notebook had no shinigami attached and he didn’t come home to Misa every night anyway and the task force were probably not going to tell her when they had been warned against spreading the news. He was alone. Shit.
“That means our friend here isn’t just using this to take notes, doesn't it.”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at but you’ve got the wrong idea I swear,” Light tried, fuck it, might as well go in on the idea “I just work in IT, I don’t know anything. I’ve got no secrets.” His wrist felt empty and his hand itched.
“Everyone has secrets,” Mello gritted, “and I think I’ve got the shape of yours.”
This time Light did throw up- just a little- and felt the liquid run thick and hot over his lip. he panted a little, and craned his neck to make eye contact.
“I don’t know shit about Kira, shut up already.”
“Funny,” Mello laughed, “I hadn't mentioned Kira yet, but I was about to. The only reason you'd keep a piece of paper and a needle in your watch is if you wanna write something but don’t wanna be seen doing it, or have it found. Based on your performance here today, I gotta say, I didn’t expect you to have a high enough pain tolerance to write in your own blood without anyone noticing. Impressive. And I mean, you brought Kira up…”
“What- no? No- you mentioned Kira when you talked about the death note to my dad, I was just- I just- I was just making a logical connection! You think that I’m Kira because you’re so focused on him you’re making everything about-“
“I’m gonna stop you right there. Now you’re getting ridiculous. You brought up the death note. I only said the notebook. And why would you wanna write discreetly? Kira’s killing method is writing after all.” He dropped the paper like it burned him. “This is death note paper, isn’t it.” There was a manic glint in his eyes now and he was speaking at a mile a minute. A devious grin curled up his face. “You know what's better than kidnapping some good bait for Kira’s murder weapon? Kidnapping Kira.”
The crowd of gang members who were lurking in the periphery broke out into furious whispers, then shouts. They all seemed to trust Mello implicitly, and so were not best pleased to hear that they had revealed their faces to Kira. Criminals didn’t tend to be.
“I was gonna trade Kira… for a lead to catch Kira.” The gravity seemed to be dawning on Mello now, in tandem with the spread of his smile. “Oh shit.” He stopped still, chocolate halfway to his mouth. The room went silent. “I caught Kira. I caught Kira first.” He burst into laughter. “SUCK THAT, NEAR, DID YOU HEAR THAT? I CAUGHT KIRA FIRST! I BEAT YOU! I FINALLY FUCKING BEAT YOU! I DID. ME. I gotta tell Matt, oh my god holy shit. By fucking accident, too. Oh fuck.”
He paused again, looking Light in the eye with an expression so disgusted and hysterical Light couldn’t help but recoil.
“Of course you’re Kira, your dad’s a cop. And you’re still just some clever little rich boy who thinks killing the bad guys works out in the end- Jesus, did you ever leave your cops and robbers phase?”
“I’m not Kira!” Light all but screamed, and as the words echoed off the walls they tasted like blood. “The 13 day rule proves it.”
“I don’t know what the fuck that is and I don’t care, it’s probably fake anyway if you’re citing it. You’re Kira, and you’ve lost. Get fucked shithead.”
Light found himself speechless for once. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how you play the game. A piece of paper in a watch wasn't going to be evidence… until his father deposited the notebook and they saw how it matched exactly with the inside pages..
Oh no.
This was beginning to be a very bad day, a very bad day, and Light didn’t want to be conscious for the rest of it.
He puked up the rest of his guts and promptly fell sideways off his chair. Mello picked up his unconscious head and took a selfie with it, sending the contents directly to the SPK.
The caption read:
Gottem.