Shades of Mystification

BY : Hellagoddess
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 20577
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! I love to see new people as much as the ones who’ve been reviewing from day one! It’s brilliant to see so many people still reading this!

Just to let you know, however…

There’s been a bit of a…problem. I may have to suspend next weeks update. My grandmother (the one I actually like) has become gravely ill and won’t go to hospital. Her blood sugar level is hovering around the 21-22 level – and when it hits 23-24 you’re basically in a coma. If she eats an apple, the natural sugar would kill her. So, the whole family is going to stay with her for the week, to keep an eye out and she doesn’t have a computer. I will work on the next chapter in longhand when I can – but can’t promise anything as absolutely none of it is written and I only have a vague idea of what I need to happen.

So sorry you guys, but I made this one a bit longer to compensate :)

Chapter Nineteen
Time skip of two weeks or so

Raito woke slowly, keeping his eyes shut for a few minutes more, reluctant to get up. The bed was the perfect temperature, pleasant with drowsy heat, its cotton clutches inviting him to stay a little longer. Knowing he had to get up sometime, regardless of how comfortable he was, he rolled languorously onto his front, hand lazily snaking its way to the other side where he was certain it would come upon the warm, inviting skin of the artist.

All it encountered was shockingly cold sheet that hadn’t seen body-heat in some time. Raito blinked his eyes open, and noted that his extremity’s assessment had been correct. The other man must have been up hours ago.

Trying not to let the fact that he had slept in past the artist irk him, he rose and dressed, donning each item of clothing from the carefully folded pile next to the bed. The closed curtains filled the room with a soft, mid-morning glow and Raito smiled to himself as he stretched, loving the fact that he didn’t have to work for another few days.

He’d left the gallery in the worryingly-not-so-capable hands of his two employees for the week while he took some much needed time off. Both Matsuda and Misa had treated it at some kind of joke when he’d informed them. Raito never took time off – not in all the time they’d been working there had he had a holiday. But once he’d started drawing up itineraries for the rest of the week, it had sunk it. Misa had spent a good hour trying to weasel out of him why he was taking time off, until he’d realized that, under all her questions, she was trying to invite him to have his holiday at her house. Needless to say, he’d declined.

He was satisfied that the two of them would be able to manage while he relaxed. There weren’t even any showings planned so all they had to do was answer the phones which he was sure that, between the two of them, it could be accomplished. Besides, they needed the practice. He had a trip to Australia in a month that he couldn’t avoid. They’d have to look after the gallery for three weeks without him, only reachable by phone or email. In some ways, this was almost like a test run and they seemed to be doing fine so far.

Strolling out into the main room, he cocked his head to the side, listening for where the artist might be but the studio was surprisingly silent. Turning the corner, he heard the bathroom door click shut and the shower start up, immediately letting him know where the other man was. Ignoring his body’s sudden, overwhelming demand that he should be showering right that second too, Raito turned away and walked to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Watari was already there, tidying and stocking L’s fridge. Raito nodded and greeted the man, glad he’d gotten fully dressed rather than just wandering out in his underwear. He never knew when the man would turn up. He’d tried to figure out a schedule, using every variable possible, but only the older man and L seemed to know when he’d be there.

Sitting down at the table, he was surprised to see a plate of pancakes instantly put in front of him. They were still hot and looked to be just out of the pan. There were no other settings and L would have eaten hours ago. Looking up at Watari’s indulgent smile, he made a slightly puzzled face.

“How did you know I would be up now? These are freshly made. Thank you, by the way.” He added. There was no need to be rude because he was slightly surprised. He picked up his fork and cut a bit of the pancake off, reaching for the syrup in the middle of the table.

Watari had turned away, emptying the dishwasher that L never seemed to use. Cups and plates made it back to the table he’d taken them from but rarely any further than that. Raito could easily see why he needed the full-time service of someone like Watari. L’s mind was just too…intense to be bothered with mundane things like dishes. Raito suddenly felt the need to break him out of it. Watari would have to retire someday and the lazy artist would have to fend for himself.

“You are welcome, though I did not make them. L knows a lot about a lot of things, Yagami-san. One of which is you.”

Raito’s brow arched at the cryptic reply, his mouth full of breakfast. Displeased at not getting a direct answer, Raito suddenly wished long-life on the older man and many years of having to run around after L. Watari turned back and Raito, for a second, was convinced that the man had read his mind by the long-suffering look on his features.

“You finish up those, Yagami-san. I think L did very well. He usually burns them but has been up since five am, practicing.” Raito choked on his mouthful and the man absently patted him in a grandfatherly manner as he reached for his coat. “I’m heading home now. I will leave L in your...charge.” Raito barely saw his nod, too busy punching himself in the chest to dislodge the pancake that had fallen there with his surprise.

L had been up since five AM?! Making pancakes?! How did he manage to get it timed so perfectly right? He must have served them the instant I rose from bed!

Raito remembered that the artist had made him breakfast the first time he’d stayed. And that too had come at the perfect time. He couldn’t put it down to anything. Perhaps the man just made the same meal over and over, throwing each one out as it cooled. But surely Watari wouldn’t let the artist waste so much food. He rose and put his dish away, deciding it would be logged in his mind under Weird-Things-About-L-That-I-Don’t-Quite-Understand and ignored for the time being.

After eating, he wasn’t sure what to do. He was halfway through the week and not a single call had come to him, not a single problem had arisen. Though that was a very good sign, he almost felt at a loss. There was nothing to do except relax. He’d never been too good at that, even as a teenager. There was always something that needed to be done.

Walking on his way to the bathroom, he noticed that L seemed to be out of the particular brand of lollipop he most favored. The in-case-of-dire-emergency-only, inferior brand was still sitting there, uneaten, and Raito knew it would only be reluctantly touched in the most threatening of circumstances. It appeared Watari hadn’t bought more. Deciding that he needed to do some shopping anyway he opened the bathroom door, squinting through the steam. L always liked his showers hot.

The artist must have heard the door open.

“Did you enjoy the consumption of your breakfast, Raito-kun?” He called over the loud spray.

“I did, very much so. Thank you.” He called back, smiling slightly. L must have told Watari to serve it to him when he’d gotten up while the artist showered.

“I’m just going to the store for a few things. Did you need anything?”

L poked his head around the shower curtain and Raito pressed his lips together thinly, trying to suppress his smile. The artist had obviously been washing his hair and had, in the style of all men everywhere at some stage in their lives, spiked all his hair up on his head in a mohawk. But he didn’t seem to mind that Raito had seen this and merely tilted his head to the side, thumb coming up.

“Raito-kun can get me some of those stuffed doughnuts and the better lollipops. Also four packets of koala biscuits and some more tea. Perhaps also some-“ L coughed suddenly and stuck his tongue out, his face scrunching up as he stared at his sud-covered thumb in dismay. He squinted at Raito and continued. “And some better tasting shower soap as it appears that the subsequent oral experience with this one does not agree with me.”

Raito smiled, resisted the urge to kiss it all better, and shut the door, trying his best not to laugh.


Steps echoing as he walked, Raito’s car beeped from across the garage as he disarmed it. Making his way among all the other cars parked there, he couldn’t understand where all these people were? There were only maybe seven or so people in the building that Raito had ever seen and yet there was always an entire parking garage filled with cars. Maybe L rented out space to businesses on the same block or something. He’d have to ask next time he remembered. Reaching his assigned spot, he slid his hand under the door handle, mentally reciting his shopping list in his head, when his wrist was suddenly gripped from behind and he was pushed roughly against the side of the car. His bottom lip split as his face smacked against the lip of the roof and the sudden pain of the attack shocked him into stillness.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine…” A low whisper flitted across his ear as his assailant pressed himself up against Raito, holding him against the car with his body. The gallery owner blinked rapidly.

‘What the fuck…?! What kind of attacker quotes Shakespeare?!’

Raito brought his elbow up sharply, butting it against the man’s ribs and hearing a pointed sound of expelled breath. The touch on him loosened slightly and he turned, ready to fight. His eyes widened, bleeding lips curling into disgust.

“You! Get the fuck away from me!” He hissed in recognition, taking in the suit-clad man who was far too close to him for comfort. The familiar young art-buyer came at him again and Raito brought his fists up to defend himself, knowing he could take him in a fair fight. But the man stopped short, less than a meter away, his expression opening up, eyes widening, imploring.

“Wait, wait! I only wanted to ask you a question!” The sudden innocent demeanor confused Raito and his fists dropped a few inches as his eyebrows came together in bewilderment. Seeing that his ruse had worked, the man’s hand whipped in and out of his pocket and, quicker than Raito could follow, a white piece of cloth was pressed against his mouth and nose. Mikami’s face darkened and he leered at the gallery owner as he pressed the struggling man up against the car again.

“Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?”

Raito resisted violently and bit the man’s fingers through the material, knowing that he couldn’t breathe in. His hands came up, ripping at the man’s hold on his face, blood and bits of skin under his fingernails, but the grip around his mouth was like nothing he’d ever experienced. As he fought back, the man suddenly apologized and a fist slammed into his gut, causing him to gasp for air. The sickly sweet scent invaded his sense and his vision started to darken, spots appearing around the edge of his eyes. His body went limp against his will and his eyes closed as he sailed down into unconsciousness.


Raito gained awareness slowly, dull throbs of alertness that counter pointed his aching body, eyes watering behind a strip of something tied tightly across his closed orbs. His head pounded forcefully and his tender mouth was stretched wide, filled with more material, the tie keeping it there biting sharply into the corners of his lips.

Taking a quick stock of his whereabouts, he ignored the headache to list what he knew about his situation. He was lying on his side, quite comfortably, given the circumstances. The lack of genuine stiffness told him he hadn’t been there for too long, an hour at the absolute most. His hands were bound behind him and tied to something, but with when he tried to shift them he discovered his legs were free. He remained absolutely still, waiting to see if his captor was nearby before he attempted to make an escape. Tilting his head to the side, he could hear something, muted sounds. The sounds themselves weren’t recognizable but the muffled filter was.

He was in a car boot. Realization made him stiffen up further as his senses flooded with panic. That crazy, bastard fan-boy had kidnapped him! What a great fucking holiday this was turning out to be! He was sure the art-buyer had gotten the message last time he’d tried something with Raito, but having the absolute snot beaten out of him hadn’t seemed to make a difference.

He hoped they wouldn’t go too far. Visions of being subdued and boarding planes, flying off to God knows where filled his mind. Plans were made and discarded. When that boot-lid opened, he wouldn’t by caught unprepared.

But thankfully, for all intents and purposes, the car didn’t appear to be moving at all.

He was struggling to shift around, get his feet into a position to kick, to make some noise, when something heavy crashed loudly against the side of the car. It rocked on its suspension and Raito froze, curling up again. He remained still and silent while more noises made it through, flat, hard packing sounds that sounded ominous. The noise went on, intermittently with something that sounded like screaming. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one the man had taken. The fear of the unknown made him slightly nauseous and he had to calm himself down lest he be sick and accidentally suffocate himself to death.

Abruptly all noise stopped, the car rocking to a complete halt. Raito strained his hearing, his imagination suddenly taking full flight. What would the man do? Would he torture him? Rape him? What was that heavy noise from before? A machine to strap him into? What about the screaming? It was becoming too much. He suddenly realized there was a voice talking nearby, but Raito couldn’t really hear, it was too muffled. He both wanted to yell, to draw attention to himself, and at the same time, wanted to lie completely still and unnoticed, so that maybe the horrible things in his mind wouldn’t come to pass. The sudden jingle of keys nearby didn’t help and he was almost in tears when he heard a key inserted into the boot lock.

He felt a rush of air on his face as the lid lifted quickly and he cringed back into the jammed space, as though expecting a blow. What he felt was a soft stroke against his cheek, which was just as bad. Rape it was going to be then. Raito swallowed against the gag heavily, suddenly felt resolved. He could deal with that. Perhaps it was better than getting his fingernails pulled out or pieces of him cut off and mailed back to L…

He choked a surprised gasp into the material when the fingers slipped down and fastened themselves onto the knot at the back of his head, loosening it, and pulling the material out of his mouth. At the sudden freedom, his will to fight seemed to come back. He wouldn’t go easily.

“Get away from me, you sick freak! Don’t touch me! Ryuuzaki is going to fucking maim you when he finds me!”

“I just…” A murmured reply made it to Raito’s ears between his heaving breaths of panic, but he interrupted. “Don’t you lay a bloody finger on me! I’ve already got a boyfriend and I love him, so you can go back to whatever hole you crawled out of and get fucked!”

He heard a low laugh that sounded eerily familiar and the hand reached for his blindfold, loosening it as well. It fell down and Raito squinted out at the silhouette leaning over him, florescent light biting sharply into his brain. All his terror suddenly left him in a giant rush, leaving a gaping hole that was suddenly filled with confused and overwhelming gratitude.

“I have a feeling that the…maiming part of your obvious sexual refusal has already been taken care of, Raito-kun. As for the rest, we’ll speak of that another time.”

And there, leaning into the car boot with a small smile, gleaming knife in hand to cut the ties on his wrists, was L.


There was the new chapter – hope you all liked it!

Please let me know what you thought!

You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story