splinteredstar | DN fic: Real

This is what I've been writing this past week. *nods* It's a birthday present for the wonderful and amazing

serria. Glad you liked it, my dear.

Title: Real

Rating: PG

Timing: Pre-series and during the whole series

Spoilers: whole series

Pairing: None

Light's never cared much birthdays, but that doesn't mean that they don't matter.

Notes: On a boy's fifth birthday in Japan, he's taken to the shrine, because in many times children never lived that long. "The Speckled Band" is a Sherlock Holmes novel. "Crime and Punishment" is a famous Russian novel about justice and whether it is acceptable to kill one for the happiness of others. In Japan, a person is officially an adult at 20 years old.

(start)

It's Light's fifth birthday, and he’s walking into the front of the door of his house. He’s just returned from the shrine, and all of his relatives are waiting for him at home. He doesn't believe in the old cultural traditions and beliefs any more than most people do these days, but traditions are traditions. Besides, it's important to his grandparents that he go, like all boys do when they turn five to celebrate the fact that they’re still alive.

It will make his relatives happy. That doesn't mean it really matters, or that he has to enjoy it or even care. He knows that, but he also knows that they would be horrified if he says so, so he doesn't. They would never leave him alone about it.

There’s a small feast waiting for him in the dining room, with enough food for twenty- he knew it was coming, since he was briefed on all the things that would happen before hand - but it's still a feast, even if he has to sit with annoying adults. One of his uncles, someone he’s never met before, asks,

“Aren’t you glad you’re done with that bit at the shrine? You get sweets now!”

Light’s a little offended –he’s not stupid, and he shouldn’t be talked to like he was. Besides, he doesn’t like sweets. But it wouldn’t be polite to say so, and it’s not the sort of thing the mature first born son of a respectable family would say, so he doesn’t. So he just smiles and agrees.

It doesn’t have to be real. Just convincing.

He just plays the part, just sits in the uncomfortable seats with people sitting to close to him. He doesn't tell them how bored he is, or how he doesn't see the point of any of this -why follow old customs from hundreds of years ago when they don't matter any more? He just eats his food, says what he’s supposed to, and glowers in his mind with a smile on his face.

It doesn't have to be real.

The only part that he likes is when his father pulls him aside, after everyone else has left, and gives him his present wrapped up in red paper. Light unwraps it slowly and uncovers a book, clearly meant for older kids but that’s never stopped Light before. On the cover it says, “The Speckled Band” and who wrote it and who translated it. Light’s a little disappointed, since he doesn’t see the point of novels or fiction either. He likes reading about true things, not made up stuff.

But then his father smiles at him, and tells him it’s a mystery, and challenges him to figure out the crime before Holmes does. That makes it better, because at least it might be sort of interesting. Light likes a challenge.

It may be silly made up stuff, but it doesn’t have to be real if it’s interesting enough.

Light slips into his still-uncomfortable chair for dinner on his fourteenth birthday. His mother is there, and his little sister Sayu is fidgeting in her seat. He looks around, and notices his father absent, but doesn’t mention it. His father has been working on a difficult case, and Light knows how important that is.

His mother serves his favorite meal, roasted duck with rice, with a smile – no wonder Sayu was fidgeting, she hates duck – and tells Sayu to sit still for a little while. There’s no cake, surely disappointing Sayu as well – she has all the sweet teeth Light lacks. He still sees a few presents on the counter, and sighs, since he had told his parents weeks ago not to buy him anything. There wasn’t anything he wanted that he could get – he’ll probably end up bored with whatever they got him by the end of the night.

That happens with lots of things lately. Everything is so boring and stupid, even school. Everyone calls him some sort of genius, or a prodigy, or gifted – all those words that mean he’s smarter than everyone else. He knew that already. But even the things meant for ‘bright’ kids are so stupid he can’t stand them.

But he knows his parents work hard for them, so he doesn’t say how bored he is. They care about him and want him to be happy, so he is for them.

It doesn’t have to be real.

He eats his dinner quietly, responding when spoken to but otherwise silent. His mother is used to his silence by now, and he knows she considers it a sign of his genius or something silly like that. The meal goes like that, and then his mother gives him his presents.

Light opens them slowly, without much enthusiasm. The first is a computer for his room – it couldn’t have been inexpensive, but his mother is beaming as he opens it so he doesn’t say anything. It would hurt her feelings to say something about the price. He knows she thinks that nothing is too pricey for him. Besides, he’s wanted his own computer. The next are unremarkable things from relatives – games he’ll never play, a new tennis racket – and then, last, he opens a package from his father.

Inside is a book – his dad likes giving him books, and Light doesn’t mind those because they’re usually more interesting than ones he might find on his own. On the cover it says, “Crime and Punishment.” The author has some barely pronounceable name – Russian, maybe? – and Light manages to forget his impeccable manners for the rest of the night as he reads at the table. But his mother doesn’t mind, because it is his birthday, and he can get away with it this once.

It takes him a few weeks – an unprecedented length of time for him to finish a book - but he reads it all, and the ideas and philosophy ring in his mind for weeks. He knows it’s wrong to do what the book says, and that the main guy should have gone to prison for killing that woman because he’s an evil man. Even if…no, he’s evil. He has to be.

Eventually he discards it as just another bit of silly fiction, because that’s all it is. It’s interesting, but in the end it’s wrong. And it’s not real, so it doesn’t matter at all. He tosses the book somewhere, and doesn’t look at it for years.

Light turns eighteen almost alone, with the clock slowly clicking past midnight as he writes in the Note, Ryuk chuckling over his shoulder. His father won’t be home until later, or maybe not at all. L is working him hard, and even if he hasn’t said he’s working for L Light knows. He recognizes L’s style. Light’s first plan to force the police to find L for him didn’t work, but he can make this work too, so it’s okay. Next to him on his desk is his old copy of Crime and Punishment, flopped open to his favorite section. He found it shoved under his tennis trophies in his closet, covered in dust and spider webs.

He hadn’t realized it at the time, but it was one of the most influential books of his life…even if the ending isn’t right. Killing people for justice is right, or else Light wouldn’t be doing it.

He barely thinks about his birthday, except vaguely remembering there will be a party later, just like every year. He still doesn’t believe in the old traditions and customs, because he knows more than ever that the world needs something new. Something pure and honest and real. The world needs justice.

And he is justice.

Ryuk watches the time slip past midnight, and then one a.m. He finally asks,

“Hey, you’re 18 now, right? Shouldn’t you be celebrating now?”

Light sighs – he has to explain everything to Ryuk, apparently. Can’t he observe for himself and figure things out? But Light slips into his natural habit for explaining and says,

“Birthdays don’t matter to me, Ryuk. It just means I’ll be in college soon and in a few more years I’ll officially be an adult. The celebration and presents don’t matter. They’re not real anyway.”

Only the real things matter to Light. Justice and right and wrong and winning. He’ll show the world truth and justice, all the things everyone is missing. Things have to be real or they don’t matter and shouldn’t be bothered with.

Ryuk shrugs. his curiosity sated, and curls up somewhere with an apple. He doesn’t bother Light again. Light keeps writing for a while, and then stops only when he notices himself tiring. He’ll do more tomorrow. He has a duty to the world, a job only he can do.

The world needs him and needs what he can do. That’s all that matters. His birthday doesn’t matter at all; his age doesn’t matter –except that he hasn’t been blinded by greed and apathy yet. The celebration his mother will throw doesn’t matter. All it means is acting polite and lying to people who think they know him - sheep, all of them, mindless sheep who need a shepherd – and wishing they weren’t so stupid. But they are, and he’ll save them all. The presents they’ll give don’t matter at all, because he has all he wants. He’s had all he wants for almost three months now, and he couldn’t ask for anything more except the whole world.

It may have shown up early, but the Note is the best gift he’s ever received.

When Light finally reaches his majority on his twentieth birthday, there’s a large celebration – he had told them to not, since they should focus on the case and there was no time to celebrate until Kira was caught, but he knew they would anyway. They all adore him, and his father is so proud, and maybe, just maybe, they’re all relieved that they’re no longer following a child. But that’s doubtful – Light has always been an adult, and everyone knows that. He’s always been the leader, the controller, and his age never mattered. Why should it now?

But still, he takes his presents and party with the grace and good taste that the future god of the world should, and is pleased that at least they didn’t bring a sickly-sweet cake. They know better. He laughs with them and thanks them for the presents - even the one Matsuda sheepishly explained was really for Misa-Misa . Each member of the team gives him something, and then steps back to let his father through.

His father steps forward, a bit hesitant, and gives Light a small, small package. Light can tell this is significant, to his father if nothing else, and slowly opens it. Inside is an old, battered, toy police badge. Light looks up, a bit confused, until Soichiro explains,

“That…that was the badge you had when you were a child and told me you wanted to be a policeman. I…was planning to give it to you when you graduate and officially join the force, but…”

Light stares at it, knowing that it’s just a memento from a childhood he sacrificed long ago, but still his throat is clenched shut with something uncomfortably like real emotion. He finally says,

“No, I..understand.” He looks up, and he almost doesn’t have to fake the look of awkward, restrained tears he couldn’t bear to shed on his face, “…thank you, dad.” It’s not completely honest, since he would rather put the past away and not think about it, but it’s believable and no one will ask anything.

It doesn’t have to be real.

There is a moment when no one speaks, the rest of the team respectfully looking away, and Soichiro says,

“I just…can’t say how proud of you I am. You’ve dedicated your life to this case and to justice…” he trails off, stands awkwardly for a moment, and then leaves with the rest of the team slowly following him.

Hours later, after Misa had slid up to him whispering about a ‘special present’ and afterwards slipped to sleep, Light stays up staring at the badge and thinking about what his father had said.

Dedicated to justice. Something almost, but not quite like a real smile curls on his face for a moment. His father is more right than he knows. But then the not-smile fades. Light has more important things to think about, things to plan and control and even though L is dead, his kingdom isn’t fully born yet. His father’s pride is nice, but his father has always been proud of him, and it doesn’t matter anyway. So he tosses the badge into a drawer and doesn’t think of it again. He falls asleep, dreaming of his new kingdom.

It’s just a little over a month before Light’s 24^th birthday, but he’s not thinking about it. He’s not thinking about his father, and how he misses him. He’s not thinking about the parties the team usually threw for him before, or how they always got him something as a team. No, he’s not thinking about celebrations or gifts or another year past, even as he stares at the battered copy of Crime and Punishment and the old police badge from his childhood as they sit on his desk.

His mind is filled with plans and plots and how in a few days, Near will be dead with the rest of the SPK and Kira’s new world will be born. All he can think about are dreams of his kingdom, his utopia and how soon, soon he’ll win. He dreams of a thousand different ways he can lead his world, some practical, some impossible.

His plan is in place; all sorted out and nothing, nothing can go wrong. Mikami won’t fail him, and even Takada being kidnapped and killed can’t stop this. Nothing can stop his kingdom’s glorious birth. The will of the world and the gods of fate and luck themselves are on Light’s side and he knows it.

They always have been. Fate delivered Naomi and L into his hands to be destroyed, and provided Misa and Mikami to him to use. They won’t fail him now. Aizawa’s suspicious glances and Mogi’s wavering loyalty don’t matter - once the SPK are gone, he’ll focus on the team and they’ll all follow him. Because they’ll believe in who they think he is.

It doesn’t have to be real. It just has to work. And if it doesn’t, then he’ll kill them. Some of them are overdue to die.

Briefly his mind flits to his birthday as he stares at old presents, almost exactly a month after his victory, considering what he’ll do. He won’t have to deal with the team showering him with presents, or Misa trying to celebrate with him. It will just be him and his true worshippers. Maybe, he’ll finally have peace and quiet and time to himself. Time to think about his kingdom and his victory and his godhood. He’ll have all the time in the world after, and he may just celebrate for real for the first time. He reaches over, and picks up the book. Maybe he’ll reread this – he’ll have time for the first time in years.

But none of that really matters, he decides, setting the book down. Not yet. Birthdays are just days, after all, even if seeing Near dead at his feet will be the best thing he’ll ever see except L dying in his arms. After that day, fate will deliver the world to him.

His best presents always have come early.

DN fic: Real

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