#20192020

He’d been selling out his shows across Europe for nearly a decade, and from the Thames to the Danube, just the name of Lazarus invoked an aura of mystery and awe. He’d been invited to most of the major courts to amuse the nobility of the continent despite his own very humble birth. Not that anyone knew anything true about his origins; L’s backstory as the exiled bastard son of a Russian prince was his most carefully cultivated illusion. 

The vast majority of people who came to see him desperately wanted to believe in real magic to dull the edge of life’s mundane reality. This made them easy to fool with clever devices of his own invention. A lemon tree that seemed to grow from a seed before their eyes, sawing someone in half who was then put back together again unharmed, submerging himself in chains underwater only to escape at the last dramatic moment. Although each of his tricks did in fact have an explanation rooted in reality, competitors, skeptics, and scientists had all attempted to parse out the mechanisms to explain his illusions and all had left disappointed.  

L had not always believed in ‘real’ magic himself, but he’d never needed to. There’d never been any odd phenomenon he couldn’t eventually provide with a reasonable explanation. He considered himself a man of science and rationality, not someone who was willing to suspend disbelief for the sake of entertainment. He knew he was brilliant, and no one could be a better skeptic than he was of his own performances. Thus, his performances were inscrutable perfection start to end, each trick a thread for the audience to weave their own pretty blindfold with. 

But it took the eyes of a fake magician to know the real thing when he saw it, down a rainy street in Paris the afternoon before a show. He’d forgotten his umbrella, as usual, and had been darting from one sheltered overhang to another on his way back to his hotel when he saw a curious hand-painted board pointing down an oil lamp-lit alleyway. It was nearly as tall as he was, and upon it was was crudely scrawled:

    ~HAVE YOUR MISFORTUNES TOLD BY LAZARUS~

For one silver franc, the Incredible Lazarus will answer the following:

Your real and true name! (Great for orphans or just anyone who forgot!)

The day you will die! (Get your affairs in order!)

Whether anyone in a picture lives or is deceased, as well as their name! (Like deadbeat parents, runaway spouses, or people lost at sea!)

If you need a bath! (Free of charge!)

Guaranteed to be 100% accurate and true or twice your money back! (proof required)

Usually, L would roll his eyes at low-brow hucksters like this and be on his way, but this time was different. This time, someone had purloined his good name and was using it for cheap tricks! Anger and irritation bubbled up in him as he spied the queue to get into a door in the alley, but it was matched with a good dose of curiosity, too. Who in their right mind would so brazenly advertise these services when everyone knew the REAL Lazarus was in town and performing just down the street? The easy thing to do would be to announce at his own show later that this was just a fraud, an imitator, or simply ignore it altogether as the price of fame. 

No, L needed to see this for himself, confront the man. He walked towards the door, ignoring the line-up and grabbing a newspaper out someone’s hand to use as a makeshift umbrella. 

“Oi! I was reading that!” The man glared at L in surprise. 

“I’ll return it shortly.”

“Wha, sopping wet?!” The man pointed to the back of the queue. “And the line starts back–” He cut off abruptly to catch something L tossed his way, gaping down at a gold coin. He tested it with his teeth, piping down after that. 

When L got to the front of the line he announced, “Time for everyone to go home. This man is a fraud and not the true Lazarus. I am.” 

“We’ve been waiting an hour or more! Prove it!” The rest of the people chanted ‘Prove it! Prove it’ until L held up a finger and suddenly, the rain stopped. Amid their awed silence, he deftly folded the wet newspaper into an origami crane which he perched on his hand. He blew on it and it caught fire, the flame changing from white to blue as it floated away down the alley. The crowd parted to let it pass and then broke into an uproar of clapping and cheers as it exploded into a burst of sparks in the shape of an L. 

“How’d he do that?!”

“He MUST be the real Lazarus!” 

L slouched forward slightly in an approximation of a bow. What had seemed like magic to them was nothing more than noticing a break in the clouds and improvising, and a bit of phosphorus dust artfully sprinkled from his ring onto the wet paper. “Now, if you’ll all check your pockets, I believe you’ll find tickets to my show tonight. I invite you all as my guests.” It wasn’t really in his nature to give things away for free, or to be so polite, but he’d learned when being the showman Lazarus versus L Lawliet would get him his way the quickest.

The man who’d had his newspaper snatched hung back a moment as the others meandered away, smiling and excited. He thumbed at the closed door behind L, “Another coin and I’ll give that fraud a thrashin’ for ya.”

“No.” L turned and opened the door, stepping aside quickly as a woman in tears bustled past him. 

From further inside came the call, “Well, you asked!” followed by some soft cackling. “Next!”

L pressed a thumb to his bottom lip as he brushed aside a ratty tasseled curtain, his already large pupils widening to near blackness to adjust to the flickering candlelight. The darkness partially hid the ramshackle state of the room, and exotic-looking but cheap carpets were flung around to hide the rest. When he approached a table set in the middle of the room, L had to check that he wasn’t looking into a mirror. But no, his mirror image was seated and grinning like the cat that had caught the canary. 

“There’s not going to be anyone else.” L climbed into the opposite chair, perching in it as he was his habit when he wasn’t performing. “I sent them away.” He quickly scrutinized the man, looking for flaws in the disguise. They were approximately the same age, mid-20s, of similar built and features, although artful makeup and posture must be contributing to the effect. 

“Well, well, well…” Beyond Birthday gracefully moved into the same crouching position, mimicking each of L’s movements with precision but allowing his eyes to flick briefly above L’s head. “That was a very rude thing to do, don’t you think? I guess they all got soggy for nothing.”

“Stealing a person’s name and pretending to be them is what strikes me as rude.” L tilted his head, frowning when the imposter did the same. 

“A man’s gotta eat.” Beyond’s grin didn’t falter as he modulated his voice closer to L’s timbre and pitch. “And I wasn’t stealing it so much as…borrowing it. I suppose you can have it back now.” He had what he wanted– L’s presence and undivided attention at last. 

“I don’t appreciate it being stolen OR borrowed.” L squinted in the darkness, both unnerved and impressed by the exactness of this imitation. Fraud or not, this mysterious man had real skill in makeup and impersonation. “Who are you really?” 

“Why I’m Lazarus of course! Didn’t you read the sign?” Beyond laughed at the annoyed look on L’s face, finally breaking his mimicry and lounging back in his patched armchair with a sigh, one leg thrown over the side. He stared for a moment then said with a flourish, “I’m a fan.” He twirled his fingers and produced a silver franc, letting it flip over his knuckles like the flow of water. “A performer like yourself, although not quite so famous. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time.” He tossed the coin high into the air, but it didn’t come down again.

“And now that you have, will you kindly get lost?” Even as L said the words, he wasn’t sure he meant them. Something about this man was fascinating. And where did that damned coin go? He looked up at the ceiling and saw nothing, and the man’s hands were both empty. “Cheap parlor trick. Open your mouth.” He didn’t want to admit he hadn’t seen the sleight of hand, even if he knew the coin must be there. 

Beyond extended his tongue, revealing the coin sitting right on it. He spat it into a box containing a few more coins. “Very good. But of course I doubt I could stump the real Lazarus.” 

The way those words were spoken sounded like a challenge to L, and he’d been here before. Countless other illusionists and street magicians had challenged him and become laughingstocks. “No, I doubt very much that you could.” 

“Hmmm.” Beyond leaned forward, elbows on the table as he stared. “Would you give me the chance to try?” He kept his eyes on L but swiped his hand over the flames of the candelabra beside them, appearing to transfer one flame to his finger where it burned a moment before he blew it out. 

“You dipped your nail in oil. It didn’t burn long enough to blacken it.” L raised an eyebrow when Beyond chuckled and nodded. “I hope you have better tricks than that.” He sincerely did hope that, because this was already more amusing than he’d expected, although his deadpan expression didn’t show it. 

“Oh, I do. Such wonders as you’ve never seen before.” Beyond snapped his fingers, his nail aflame again, and he transferred the fire back to the dormant candle. “If I can’t stump you, I’ll ‘get lost’ and you’ll never hear from me again. Does that suit you? A little wager between magicians.” 

“A wager?” L smiled for the first time since coming into this dismal hovel. “Just so you know, no one’s ever been able to stump me. I’ve seen it all.” He worried his lip with his thumb, unconsciously leaning forward, betraying his interest and excitement at a game. “Debunked them all and taken their tricks, improved them for my own.”

“You can’t take my tricks.” Beyond knew that for a fact. He was unique among all humans, if he was even human, in his abilities. “But I’d love to see you try.” 

He traced his long fingernails over the battered table, watching L’s thumb brush back and forth across slightly parted lips and wishing to touch them. Yes, he was a ‘fan’ of Lazarus, but it was so much more than that. An obsession, a yearning to be Lazarus. It was so unfair that he, someone with real supernatural powers, should always be in the shadow of just a clever illusionist. Beyond had been L’s actual shadow for years, never making himself known as he followed in the wake of show after show. Trying to make enough money for cheap flophouses and tickets for every performance, hiding in the back of the balcony but watching with eyes where distance didn’t matter. And when there hadn’t been money, he’d stolen. When people had tried to hurt or rob him, he’d killed. Beyond had given everything for this one moment. 

“You seem quite confident. In that case, what do you get if you manage to stump me?” L had zero expectations that anything like that could ever happen, but he wanted to be aware of the game’s rules.

Beyond pulled a deck of cards from his jacket and shuffled them in one hand, focusing on keeping his breathing slow and even as he held L’s gaze. Softly, “To be your apprentice.” 

“My apprentice?” L laughed, letting his hands rest on top of his crouching knees. “Everyone knows I take no apprentices. I have no desire to train amateurs or tell my secrets.” 

Beyond purred, “But do you desire to hear them? I can tell you secrets even you don’t know about yourself. Or ones you’ve desperately kept hidden from others.”

L was past being intrigued now, he was hooked. It didn’t help that the man’s languorous, cat-like body language was so very seductive, his gaze so intense. It was rare for L to find anyone with as much self-confidence as he had, and this man had a natural bravado that L had to work for on stage. In fact, the longer L looked, the more differences he noticed between them. The soft swell of muscles hidden beneath clothing slightly too large, hair of a silkier texture, eyes that were a pale blue instead of his own grey. He swallowed when his scrutiny was rewarded with a smirk. “I agree to your wager. But first, tell me your name.” 

Beyond wet his lips and whispered, “No. But I’ll tell you yours.” He glanced down at the coin box seriously. “Pay the fee.”

L stared unblinking, unbelieving, but pulled out the same trick ‘gold’ coin he’d given the man in the street and taken back furtively. 

When L tried to put it in the box, Beyond covered it with his hand. “No copper. The real thing.”

L’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his hand back, pocketing the trick coin and reluctantly flipping a real silver one into the box with a soft clink. He sighed, “So?” 

Beyond smiled looked above L’s head once more, not that he hadn’t read these words a thousand times already. “L Lawliet. Although the pronunciation eludes me. Do you say it in the French way, mon cher?” He smiled and sounded it out a few ways, giving up with a little shrug.

L felt like his heart had stopped beating from the shock of what he’d heard. His mouth was agape, fingers digging into the fabric of his pants. “How….” Absolutely no one knew his real name. He’d spent a small fortune to find it out himself, buried at the bottom of the rubble of the London workhouse for orphans he’d grown up in. His birth certificate, locked in a well-hidden safe at his house in Surrey, was the only document in existence with that name printed. That safe hadn’t been opened in 10 years.

“Ah! Are you stumped then?” Beyond eyed him greedily, breath coming quicker. He didn’t even need to declare he was right. He’d never been wrong, even when people tried to insist he was. The truth was always written on their faces. 

“No! You…you must have hired a private investigator.” L’s brow knitted, because that didn’t make sense and he knew it. “Someone in London told you. ”

“Does it look like I have the funds to hire an investigator, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond gestured around at the bleak surroundings. “But if you remain unconvinced….show me a picture of someone. I’ll tell you their name as well, and if they live.” Telling L the day he would die was something else he could do, but what a morbid way to start a partnership. Plus, L had plenty of life left and no reason to believe him. Inclining his head to the box, “Pay the fee.”

L let out a shaky breath and reached into his coat to produce a cheap locket. His mother had given it to him at the workhouse before she’d died of pneumonia, and it contained pictures of his parents. He pried it open and laid it on the table, flipping another silver coin into the box. “Tell me about them.”

Beyond pulled the locket across the table and stared at the pictures of the man and woman inside. These were no Russian nobles, no princes. They were plain, simply-dressed folk who looked older than their probable years and had no death dates above their heads. “Martha Briggs, maiden name. Henry Lawliet. Both deceased.” He lifted his eyes to L’s as he slid the locket back. “Sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.” His fingers briefly brushed L’s and lingered before pulling away. “Your parents.”

“Yes.” L picked up the locket in pinched fingers and carefully put it back in his jacket. He’d never known his mother’s maiden name but all the rest was correct, although he had no idea how. He went quiet as he considered what to do. It was a first, being unable to discern the trick, and all the possible scenarios that cycled through his mind were dismissed just as fast. Only one actual explanation remained but he was loathe to say it. How could it be that? 

“Have I won then, Mr. Lawliet?” Beyond wasn’t sneering or gloating, but soft and sincere. He knew that all L had to do was refuse to keep his promise and all of this, everything he’d done to be in this room, would have been for nothing. 

A long silence passed between them as they stared at one another across the table. “You have real magic.” L couldn’t keep the puzzlement off his face. He’d spent his whole life creating the illusion of magic in opulent ballrooms and the parlors of royalty, and had he finally found it buried in a rat hole? It was ironic and tragic that no one could tell the difference but him, but Lazarus. Who was the real fraud?

Beyond’s face crumpled, “Is that your answer then? Real magic?” No no no! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! He’d never believed that a skeptic like L, who knew so many tricks and manmade artifices, would choose the most improbable answer. Unfortunately, it was also correct. 

“Yes. That is my answer.” 

Beyond made an angry, frustrated sound and leaped up from his chair but stopped in his tracks, floundering. He wanted to run but where would he go? The majority of his adolescence and adulthood had been focused on L, following L, trying to get close to L and failing. Now that he finally had his chance, he’d failed. He turned away and clutched his hair, whispering, “Correct. You win. I’ll leave Paris tonight and you’ll never hear from me again.” 

L hummed to himself, uncurling from his crouch and slowly stepped closer to the distraught man. “Are you joking?” He touched the man’s shoulder, gently turning him around so they faced each other. “Do you think I’d walk away from real magic? You’re a unicorn.” L smiled and brushed the man’s cheek, fingers trailing along his jaw. He’d never touched anything magical before and it thrilled him. “A unicorn that had to pretend to be a horse pretending to be a unicorn. But I can see it.”  

The black kohl around Beyond’s eyes used to approximate L’s eyebags was smeared and running down his face, his blue eyes brighter for his tears. He gazed back at L in amazement, finally sniffling and giving him a little smile. “So does that make you a horse?” He leaned into L’s touch, eyes lidding and not entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating now. “Or maybe just an ass.” Beyond’s eyes flew open as he realized what he’d said, but L was just laughing and nodding. “S-sorry, my mouth can run away with me and—”

“I’ve been called worse.” L’s fingertips traced along the man’s mouth, his heart hammering for a different reason. He wanted to know this magic, this man, and felt an electricity between them that only two of a kind could. “But I can’t call you ‘unicorn.’ What’s your name?” 

“Beyond.” He whispered it reverently, closing his eyes and taking the chance to kiss L’s fingers at his lips. What did he have to lose now? His ‘trick’ was exposed. “Beyond Birthday. It’s a stupid name.” 

L’s hand threaded into Beyond’s hair and the noise he was rewarded with made him shiver, made his pants uncomfortably tight. Was this feeling some kind of magic too? He’d never felt such a powerful attraction. “It’s a name that would look perfect next to mine on a poster.” Lazarus and Beyond….it had a certain ring to it. But you shouldn’t hide yourself under all this makeup.” He tentatively pressed closer, bending to kiss Beyond’s neck which tilted for him instinctively. “Hmm, we could work that into some good tricks, couldn’t we?” He pressed his hips against Beyond, smiling as he felt the man’s body jerk at the realization, the feeling. “Like swapping out coins, but…us.”

Beyond inhaled audibly, wrapping his arms around L’s body as he melted into this perfect dream. His idol, his everything, wanted him too? Accepted him? “But…” He quickly shrugged off his jacket when he felt L’s fingers start to unbutton his shirt. “…you said you don’t take apprentices.” He mentally cursed himself for not just shutting up. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this and not ruin everything?

L raised his head, “True, I don’t.” Before the stricken look on Beyond’s face could sink in, he added, “But I’d take a partner.” The voracious kiss that followed made L stumble back against the table edge with a grin, hidden pockets spilling their contents as their clothes were hastily pulled away. A trick wand clattered to the floor and bloomed into a rose, a crystal box of fireflies sprung open and let its luminescent prisoners flit about the room blinking.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.” Beyond kissed him deeply again, lifting L onto the table. His hands caressed L’s body like he was afraid the man might break open too, releasing doubts and regrets, second thoughts. “Years I’ve waited to talk to you.” Beyond made magic for others, magic never happened for him. But those doubts didn’t come even when L did open for him, parting his legs and wrapping them around his waist.

“Kami-sama!”

Light’s fluid movements halted as a tug at his tail forced him to turn around; with only half of his face enlightened by the moon, his curious expression wore a thick frightening mask in the back of his eyes. “What is it?” He asked in a bored tone, kneeling enough to watch the little fox in the eyes.

“An intruder is wandering around the haiden. It’s a human pup.” Tiny black eyes opened wide in terror; the little foxes of the shrine weren’t fond of children, especially the tourists’ ones. Noisy and disrespectful, unable to keep their dirty hands off. “The little thing didn’t care to cleanse his hands before stepping in and there’s no-one looking after him.”

“No-one?”

The little fox nodded frantically, ears flattening in the motion. “Yes. What do we do, Kami-sama?”

Light wouldn’t care about a child wandering alone in the shrine, but he had to assure it wasn’t a little thief looking for the treasures hidden in the main sanctuary. “Keep watch over the honden. I’m checking the entrance hall.” Knitted golden leaves waved in the bends of the kimono, kissed by a breath of wind as darkness engulfed the God’s figure.

Light’s floating form materialized over the purification fountain few moments later, ears tipping to catch any sound and auburn eyes scanning the tiled path few feet away from where he was standing. Perching atop the head of a fox guardian statue, he was about to move when a white flare seemed to be tottering in his direction. Squinting his eyes, Light recognized an infant face surrounded by a wild mop of black hair. The child, unsure of his footing, plopped down by one of the statue, a thumb pressed between his lips. Despite the rather innocent air, his deep black eyes scrutinized his surroundings with fervent curiosity, mumbling unintelligible words in-between deep breaths. “Four.”

A number was all Light heard, the hidden meaning apparently free of any menace. The child kept quietly nibbling his thumb and murmuring lullabies of numbers that were probably meant to offer some comfort; Light sensed anxiety swelling up and down within his little chest and saw burns on the child’s fingers and cheeks.

Something happened downtown, the fox God thought, quietly turning towards the mountains. Ruffles of satin smoothed the stoned surface of the fox’s head as he leaned down to graze at the pointy face. “Awake from your slumber, my dear friends! Descend into the valley and don’t indulge in the sweet chit-chat of the wild camellias; come back right away with the latest news from the human world.” Twirls of smoke came out of the stone and bent forward as if nodding quietly to Light’s soft whisper. Then it disappeared in the night, the last traces waltzed around the God and draped his shoulders like a thick misty fog; a faint smile tugged at his lips as he was ready to disappear as well, leaving alone the child. He didn’t seem to be a menace.

Light’s body was turning invisible to human eyes when suddenly his tail was harshly yanked off, followed by a stuttered “Five”. Cussing between his teeth, Light’s gaze fell behind him, his body half-away disappeared into the magic mirror. “What the…? Ow.” Big black eyes stared unblinking at him and the little hand grabbing a hold of his magnificent thick tail tugged a bit harsher. “Ouch. It hurts. Stop it.” The fox God’s admonishment didn’t deter the child, it indeed brightened a sparkle of scientific interest in the bottomless pit of his eyes. His thumb ran along the long, lustrous guard hairs, stroking up and down to savor the soft thickness on his fingertips. Light sighed through half-lidded eyes, the brim of his long lashes trembling as a pleasant warmth came from being petted gently. The limbs outside the magic mirror retreated and unfolded in a rustle of red satin; the portal closed as he elegantly pirouetted on himself, the long tail escaping the child’s grasp and weaving as a giant fan to shadow his figure. “Ah-ha. You haven’t asked for permission, little one.” A silver titter froze the child, who slowly backed up until his shoulders hit the stoned fox. “If you ask it gently, I’ll let you pet my tail once more.”

In response, the human kept looking at Light, unblinking. It was hard to tell what kind of emotion was crossing his impassive gaze, only a slight discomfort quirked his lips as he sucked at his right thumb. As Light noticed, the pad was bright red and a little droplet of blood seeped from a large cut. With soft footsteps and a warm smile, the God knelt in front of the child and held out a hand. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He whispered, brushing a slither finger along the child’s wrist until it gave in and fell in his grasp. A spike of utter anxiety flared where his palm pressed against the scarred skin, though the child’s gaze was still firmly fixated on his.

“Would you like to see a little magic?” Light asked teasingly, leaning the free hand over the child’s hand. Even if he didn’t nod in any possible way, the God sensed the curiosity in those black eyes. Ah, all human pups are the same…

A swirl of red smoke stretched out like shadows from the fox God’s fingertips and latched around the child’s skin like a warm duvet. It dissolved in less than few seconds, leaving the skin smooth as if nothing happened to it. The same little magic was repeated on the other arm and on the child’s cheek, where a bleeding burn was hiding behind the curtain of spiky black hair.

“Does it feel better?” Light asked, chuckling as the kid’s already big eyes seemed like almost poking out in shock as he inspected his healed wounds.

The child didn’t panic -he had went through worse enough than that, even though he hadn’t still shared a word about what had happen to him. Well, he had been always a quiet child and even if behaving quite strangely sometimes, he had already witnessed bizarre events -first, the dread of his family house set ablaze, then this person with soft fox ears and tail… And now, this magic. Was he daydreaming?

Fourteen leaves on the left shoulder.

Counting helped him to calm down a little bit and even helped him manage to remember the good manners his mother taught him. “Thank you…” He muttered, the thumb back to his lips. “Fifth fox.”

“You can call me Light.” Light sat across the flagstone tiles, knees tucked behind him and the long tail waving softly. “What’s your name, little one?”

Thirty-one leaves on the front.

“L.” L felt quite tired despite being on the alert and registering any movement of the fox creature. He couldn’t tell what the other was up to when Light opened wide his arms and beckoned him to come closer; his mother used to do the same when he wanted to touch him in a more intimate way -which L allowed rarely, he disliked letting his guard off. The thought of his mother made him frown deeply; the last time he saw her, she was screaming something unintelligible from the kitchen while a heavy black smoke heated up the whole house. He didn’t know why but if she ever looked for a hug, he would likely give her one right away. What was that feeling…? Sadness?

“Come here, L. It’s everything okay.”

Unaware of the sudden tears running down his cheeks, L rose to his feet and wobbled towards Light, crawling in his lap and letting the fox creature gently tousling his hair with his long fingers. The God observed the child curling up in a ball against his chest, the thumb still between his lips. He wrapped his arms around him and cradled L back and forth, humming softly a lullaby.

Eventually the child drifted off, the small chest rising up and down between deep breaths. Light brushed a lock of black hair off his face, lingering on the shadows behind his closed eyes. Light despised human beings, but still felt pity for those innocent children whose purity would be inevitable stained by the poisoned heart of adulthood. And that poor child looked like he was already part of that vicious cycle…

“Kami-sama.” A disembodied voice came out of nowhere, breaking the quiet of the night. Light’s tail wiggled in response as his hands kept stroking the sleeping child. “An old mansion was ablaze and humans are trying to stop the flames. It wasn’t an accident, someone purposely caused the fire. The pines encircling the west side of the holy sandō said the culprit escaped and he’s now hiding in the forest.”

So it has to be this child’s house… He probably escaped during the fire. 

“Did someone die in the fire?”

The voice waited to reply, waltzing between the uncommon interest coming from Light and the truth. “A male and a female human. A child is still missing.”

Cradling L in his arms, the fox God rose on tiptoes and walked towards the entrance hall of the honden. Expression hooded by brown locks, his lips were sealed in a thin line when he spoke again. “You said the culprit is hiding in the forest, right?” A menacing light flickered in his red eyes and when he turned towards the dark shadows of the woods, a smirk threatened his expression. “Keep an eye on this filthy human and warn me of their every movements. I’ll be right back once the golden hour ticks. Gather our brothers and sisters and meet me at the shrine when the time comes.”

It’s all I can do for you, little L.

“As you wish, Kami-sama.”

A bemused giggle followed those words.

The next morning L woke up curled on a cushion by the entrance hall of the shrine. Pacey voices and footsteps echoed all around him and as he sat in his usual crouch, squinting his eyes in the sunlight, he noticed a lot of persons bustling about the area. Medics carried a white sack away on a stretcher, policemen were busy asking questions and scribbling down on their notepads. No one noticed L was awake, only an old man who approached him in silence.

“L.” Watari, an old acquaintance of his parents, knelt in front of him and patted his head gently. “Are you okay?”

L nodded slowly, taking the old man’s hand. Still unaware the man who killed his parents was mysteriously found in a pool of blood by the entrance hall of the temple, completely disembodied as if some wild animals banquetted with his body.

۝

“What time shall I pick you up, sir?”

The chauffeur opened the car back door, waiting for L to get out. The detective unfolded his long legs as he had been sitting in a crouch for the whole ride and slowly got out, hands in the pockets of his oversize jeans. “I’ll be coming back on my own. Thank you.”

The chauffeur nodded solemnly. “Good evening, sir.”

L watched the car turning around and disappearing in the direction of the artificial lights of the city. The view was almost surreal as he stood at the foot of the mountains, where old fashioned lanterns dimly illuminated the stone staircase. L looked up in the direction of the temple, a lonely shadow engulfed by the wild pines and the high peaks of the mountains as barrier; an unattainable fortress where only God dwelled. And where murders occurred.

L hadn’t came back to Japan since the day his family died in a fire. They lived in an old mansion by the foot of the mountains, or so Watari, the family’s friend who took care of him, told him. L’s memories of that dreadful day were rather garbled and sometimes he dreamed of weird entities whose identity was most likely the result of childish fantasies. He never thought to come back, until a detail seemed to be somehow connected with a case that picked his interest lately.

The man responsible of the murder of his family was found dead by the entrance hall of a temple. Completely disembodied as if some wild animal attacked him. It wouldn’t strike him until he was asked to investigate on a series of identical murders in Japan. Local people called it the rage of the fox God, since a dead body was found once a year in a horrible state by the temple. Same location, same time of the year.

The crisp air of the night made L shivered as he processed to climb up the stone staircase, still lost in his trail of thoughts. He had already observed the murder scene during the day after his arrival in Japan in the early morning. He had taken mental notes of the scene -where the corpse was found and if there was any sign of a weight dragged there by the blood traces, who was there in the last few hours before the murder. He was already given photographs of all the victims of the last years and the few clues ever found. There was no sign of fight, either the victims seemed to have been drugged. No human skin found on their bodies. However, the victims were connected by three factors: the location, the time of the year and the time of death. All those victims in fact died between 5 and 6 AM, when the sun warmed the dark blanket of the night.

As he found out, even the death of the man who killed his family followed that path.

L kicked out his shoes as he reached the top of the staircase, finally free to get rid of that awful social constriction. He felt much better walking barefoot, savoring the cool flagstones beneath his skin. A sense of déjà vu hit and sank just like he stepped in the temple for the first time that day; he couldn’t tell why but the fox statues seemed to be welcoming him, as if he was just an old friend coming for a visit. L somehow recalled a temple from his dreams… that temple, to be honest. In those dreams, he was still a child and someone was lulling him into sleep. It wasn’t none of his family’s voice, either Watari. It was… even if hard to believe, it was a fox. Most likely, a sort of fox God. Closing his eyes, L still felt the soft brown hair beneath his fingers and the smooth fabric of a satin kimono brushing against his cheek.

Was it really just a dream?

L had never been fond of stories of ghosts or Gods, but those memories never ceased to hunt him down. So when the case required his attention, despite its oddness, he felt like it called for him to open up the Pandora box of his past once again.

Light watched the intruder walking boldly in his holy temple as if allowed to do as he pleased. The human didn’t even cleanse his dirty hands, either he prayed the fox God as deserved; utterly detached, he wandered quietly around, curiously peaking at the stoned fox statues encircling the flagstone path. It was the same detective who was called to take care of the latest murder -as if human beings could really found out it was God’s will. Light’s will.

“Kami-sama…” A little fox perching on Light’s shoulder turned up their nose as they kept staring at the man. “Ow. Ow. Ow. How he dare-!”

L actually sat in his usual crouch, examining a statue with fervid curiosity. The wrapper of a lollipop was tossed aside with no respect of the holy place and he didn’t even motion to correct his misbehavior.

A flare of irritation narrowed Light’s eyes into red slits; he didn’t like the detective since when he saw him during the day, but he couldn’t at all forgive this outrageous action. Disgusting human!

“Too bad I can’t kill you.” He grinned to himself, floating over the human in his invisible form. “But this doesn’t stop me to scare you a little bit.”

He picked up the wrapper and threw it against L. The detective startled and immediately turned to see if there was anyone around. Light took advantage of the situation to pour a rain of pine-cones over the man, helped by the little foxes.

“What…?!” L jumped onto his feet, almost flailing and holding up his hands to defend himself from the sudden attack. When the last pine-cone fell at his feet, L’s muscles tensed up as he sensed someone was looking at him. Yet, his eyes only stared at the bottomless shadows of the forest running down the fence, unaware Light was right there in front of him. The fox God snickered, ready to pull another stunt to scare the detective, when a sudden shiver ran down his spine. Those deep black eyes and that emotionless expression reminded him of someone.

But who?

Light silently retreated, oblivious of his plans, and kept observing the man the whole night.

L came back the following night and this time he sat on the wooden floor of the honden, munching some candies. A lot of candies, by the endless number of wrappers tossed inelegantly on the floor. The sight only made Light quivering with anger, fingertips eager to snap that pale neck in a half. If only he could.

But when, still invisible to human eyes, he threw all the candies wrappers at L, the detective didn’t even flinch. He seemed like to be expecting that action. Even more strangely, his eyes looked exactly in the direction where Light was standing in all his indignation, as if he could see him.

“Fox…?” The detective whispered, drawling words with a deep frown as if the mere thought of speaking to a God was out of question to him. Light chuckled, waltzing around the man and blowing hot breath on his face. L blinked in surprise as something like a breath of wind caressed his forehead… But it wasn’t a windy night, indeed he was almost sure to smell something familiar… He still felt silly to think it could be the fox creature of his dreams. His logical mind couldn’t accept the idea of a supernatural identity, but still… If it wasn’t just a dream? 

Light observed the human struggling with the uncertainty of being dealing with a ghost or some entity dwelling in the shrine. Well, L was almost close to the truth.

“You don’t want to show up, I suppose.”

The cold undertone didn’t fully cover the curiosity in the detective’s voice. Light kept toying with him, pulling the spiky hair and even smacked him in the head - L rather deserved it after throwing human garbage around nonchalantly.

On the other side, L was seriously debating his sanity -addressing a ghost and suddenly being harassed by the said one… was it the result of his insomnia?

“Damn!” Flailing as something invisible tugged harshly at his sleeve, his hand inadvertently grabbed… Air? Something invisible wiggled in his grasp and for a moment L thought he had gone mad for real. So, if it was a dream, why don’t play along? He yanked the whatever-it-was off, only receiving a loud yelp in response.

The tail was the fox’s weakest spot. And even in his invisible form, it could happen to be accidentally grabbed by a human being.

“Ow! Stop! Stop, you filthy human!”

The pain made Light lose control over his powers and the magic broke, turning him visible to human eyes. A sigh of relief followed as L stopped pulling his tail, though his hand was still firmly grasping the soft brown fur.

“What are you….?”

“What are you isn’t the best way to address a God, human.” Light snapped, relinquishing in a shot of evil glee as he drank in the surprised yet confused look crossing the detective’s face. Oh, of course he didn’t expect the ghost showed up for real!

“You’re real.” Long fingers uncurled to gently reach to touch the fox God’s cheek. “You weren’t just a dream, so…”

Light’s eyelids fluttered as he leaned in the caress, which felt way too familiar now that he lost himself into the man’s intense gaze. Finally he realized who that man was.

“You’re that child… L.”

Almost twenty years passed since the night a child was found wandering around the shrine and Light benevolently took care of him and avenged his family. Who knew that little one would become the detective asked to find out the culprit of the shrine’s murders? Life was quite bizarre sometimes.

“Yes.” L uttered in a daze, unable to think straight for a brief moment. It’s the same weird creature I saw when I was a child, after wandering for some miles alone in the woods. Unless it’s just a dream… But it feels so real. His fingers stroked the soft skin and slid up to rub right behind the fox’s ears. The motion gained a quite hilarious reaction from Light; his body stiffened as a soft flush colored his cheeks, despite the twitching of his ears. “You haven’t asked for permission!” He was enjoying the caress more than he wanted to show, despite shoving L’s hand away harshly. “As I see, you haven’t learnt some manners, human.”

“Light… Is this your name, isn’t it?” L ignored Light’s comment and hunched his shoulders forward, deep-set eyes sharply focused on the fox God’s features.

“You remember correctly.” As if a name gave a human the power over a God, Light would add. His eyelids fluttered enticingly as he pirouetted around the detective with faux curiosity. “So, what brings you here after so many years?”

L kept following Light with his gaze, unblinking. “As guardian God of the temple, you should know already what I’m going to ask you.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Do I?” Light smiled teasingly. “Who tell you I’ll give you an answer?”

A faint smile curled L’s smile as he twirled a fox hair between his fingers. “Because what God would let humans disturb the quiet of their shrines?”

Light bit down his lower lip, almost pouting. Fair point. This human was smart, but still he couldn’t fool a God. “Correct. Humans can’t tame Gods.” And as he said so he disappeared in whirls of red smoke, chuckling.

He didn’t need to give L any answer, after all.

The following night, L came back to the temple and he sat on the wooden floor of the honden. Some candies, a thermos flask full of tea and two cups were placed besides him in utter silence.

Without a warning, Light appeared from the back of the honden, the long kimono swaying elegantly at each step. “An offer?” He asked in pleasant surprise when L handed him a cup of tea.

“Foxes moult once a year around April.” L begun, sipping his tea. “Do even fox Gods moult?”

The question almost startled Light, but he firmly managed to keep his expression blank. “It sounds like a fox hunter’s question.” He teased back. “What’s the point if a fox God does? I’d kill you if you tried to steal my precious fur. If this is your true question.”

L took another sip of tea, then munched on a candy as if stalling. But it was only a calculated pause. “A local legend tells that a fox God steals a human skin once a year during the moult to preserve his immortality. As reward he keeps protecting the human reign.“

Light snickered behind his cup. “So do you believe in fairy-tales, detective L?”

“I do believe that this is the only logical explanation for the series of weird deaths happened during the last fifty years. All the deaths have in common the location, the month of the year and the time of death… Even if I still wonder what kind of connection there is with the time of death. I wouldn’t like to admit the culprit is a supernatural entity as you are, but I found out traces of your fox hair on the last victim. The same traces had been found on other corpses, giving the impression it was just a wild animal… But it’s not.”

L talked as if anything could prove him wrong. Light was honestly impressed by how close he was to the truth and how easily he believed in what others would brush it off as a bedtime story. Yet, his serious expression bemused him and he couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“And if it was the truth?” He inhaled sharply between his laughter, brushing away the tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Would you arrest a God?” The thought only made him laugh more. L didn’t object, simply stared at him with the same emotionless gaze he wore when he was a child.

“I guess this would be a problem.” He mumbled back.

Light shook his head and motioned to straddle the man’s lap. His long legs lasciviously wrapped around L’s waist as he leaned closer, hands pressed on his shoulders as he spoke into L’s ear. Magic seeped through his whole being to enchant the human who was trying to outsmart a God. Now I’ll demonstrate you why the victims never struggle, detective. “You really turned into an hilarious man, L. You make me crave for your skin.” His hips slowly rocked forward as he nuzzled the man’s neck, savoring the sudden tension of muscles with expert fingers. He massaged L’s arms slowly as he kept slowly pressing their bodies together. The detective tried to react but it was like his body was suddenly unable to respond properly, completely at the mercy of Light’s touch and voice. “I’ll tell you a secret, L… I killed those humans. Even the one who killed your family. You should thank me for that.” Light’s hands cupped the man’s face as he leaned forward, noses and foreheads touching and the faux promise of a kiss lingering between them. L took a deep breath as he tried to fight the magnetic force guiding him into a milky limbo where Light’s voice was everything he could hear; his hands were warm but heavy in the fox God’s grasp and he felt already the arousal thrusting beneath his jeans as Light kept stroking it in such a loving way. He couldn’t speak nor think straight, his body could only respond to the pleasant stimulation as if he was a puppet.

Was it how the God trapped his victims? Using charm and magic to make them surrender to him?

“Why?” L asked, closing his eyes in the weak attempt to fight the overwhelming sensation of warmth and abandonment, as if he was going to drift off at any time.

“What?” Light tilted the head aside and licked a droplet of sweat rolling down L’s forehead. Oh, this human was fighting his power… So unusual, yet intriguing. No-one ever tried to fight back. “Killing humans?”

“The killings and… Avenge… my family.”

The tips of Light’s ears twitched in response as he rested his chin on L’s shoulders, arms sliding around his waist. He felt the man’s arousal between his hips, warm and pulsing to be released of its constriction. Light couldn’t tell why, but he didn’t mind the feeling. “The legend is partially correct. I am allowed to kill once a year during the moult, when the sun rises.” The golden hour or so it was called. “Though the reason isn’t connected with divine immortality. I kill because humans never learn the lesson.” Light was so fond of the beauty of Creation, now rotten to the core due the seed of evil blossomed in the human race. He asked for the divine punishment, but other Gods weren’t keen on intervene, either they cared to stop humanity from falling apart. So he had to fight alone, to guide humans towards the virtuous path and get rid of the evil seed. “If God punish criminals, don’t you think humans will start behaving? It’s my own duty to teach them what’s bad and good, to protect them in my own way… It’s everything I alone can do.”

Melancholy veiled Light’s words as he spoke; he didn’t know why he was explaining himself to a human being who couldn’t understand the greatness of his actions.

“Killing isn’t always… the solution.” Somehow L could finally see clearer and didn’t feel his body as heavy as before. After a brief pause the detective wrapped his arms around Light and felt the God tensing up, as if caught off guard. “You could teach them through other ways.”

Light let L’s hands trailing up and down his back in a soothing caress, relaxing into the embrace. He stopped trying to enchant the human, though still he wasn’t aware why he consented that intimate touch in first place. Either why he was letting L speak up instead of erasing his memories of their encounters and disappearing in the dead of the night as he usual did. There was something in that human… Something he had already seen in those black eyes when L was still a child.

“You humans never listen.” The fox God sighed, looking back at L in the eyes. “And to answer your previous question… I killed the murderer of your family just because it was that kind of human I despise the most.”

You were trying to protect me, L thought absent-mindedly. He couldn’t even blame the fox God for his actions -as a God, he was allowed to do as he pleased. If he wanted to get rid of human race, no-one could stop him, even L. The detective was powerless in front of a true God. Yet… he understood how sad and angry Light was, given the increasing rate of criminality day by day. L had felt the same when he begun to work as a private detective, even though he was aware he wasn’t a good example of human being as well. Passable, maybe.

“What if I helped you?” The detective asked almost on a whim, though his offer sounded rather serious. He felt completely back to himself now that Light had stopped to enchant him.

On the other side, the God raised an eyebrow and burst in a silver titter. “You’re a very funny human, L.” He mocked, despite the touch of softness in his gaze. He curled up against L’s chest, guiding one of the man’s hand up to his ears. “So funny that I allow you to pet me. Gently, please.” He hummed softly as long pale fingers kindly brushed his hair and tentatively scratched behind his ears. The strokes sent a pleasant sensation down his spine as L cradled him in his lap just like Light did years ago. The God didn’t remember when it was the last time he had let himself indulge in trusting a human touch. Even if just for one night, Light allowed himself to feel the warmth swelling up in his chest and those hands to caress his body.

That night he didn’t give L a proper answer. Humans and Gods wouldn’t ever cooperate, but Light somehow accepted the strong ideals and offer of this singular human being. If L came back again and offered his help, Light would simply make fun of him and demand attention as he did now. It somehow soothed the delusional state he drifted from time to time when thinking about how hard it was to fight alone when other Gods lazily watched Earth from their holy seats without moving a finger.

Things wouldn’t ever change - Light would keep teaching humans morality and virtue, no matter how hard it was.

His entrance was loud and Mikami winced as the door creaked in a monstrous scream. Light’s fingers didn’t stuttered over the keys of Chopin – his shoulders raised a hair but surprise was so slight on him, only Mikami would know. At least, that is what Mikami liked to assure himself: his ownership over the small parts of Light. On the piano’s surface was a metronome, clicking out as Light slowed to an end mid-song. Plinking out a last note, Light turned and let a slow smile effuse over his mouth.

“Did you bring me coffee?” Light slipped the glossy black cover over the piano keys. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I want to spoil you.” Mikami went to the nearby table, covered with discarded sheet music and near finished resin boxes. His palms were hot from coffee and the way Light coddled his tone when speaking. He packaged even admonishment in a fondness no one had ever taken with Mikami. “Did you eat breakfast? Did you come straight from the apartment?”

Perching his elbows on the closed lid, Light dropped his chin into entwined hands. “And if I did come straight from the apartment?” He slide his gaze molasses-like toward the brown bag in Mikami’s fist. “I had an egg.”

“Just one? Not enough.” Mikami hummed and laid out the coffee and bag on it. “C’mon. I’ve brought two bear claws.”

From behind he heard Light’s high laugh and the scratch of the piano bench shoved back. Two arms looped around his waist, pressing the loose grey wool of his sweater to his quivering stomach. Soft crinkling sounded as Light lay his cheek on Mikami’s violin case, his fingers knitted into a belt that Mikami pressed against as he put out twin pastries on white napkins. He looked down, curious, and saw no ring on Light’s left hand. Excitement trilled through Mikami at the click of the continuing metronome.

“I don’t actually like bear claws, you know,” Light said, oddly speaking on beat with the clicks. “Only, I used to know someone who loved them and we’d always split them down the middle. If it’s just half, then it’s not as sweet. Right?”

“Yes. No. Uh,” Mikami bit his knuckle, his other hand covering the fists Light made on his belly. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing.” Light swung around and caught Mikami’s face in both palms. “I’m not hungry. I’d like to kiss you.”

Light’s palms were always cold – how Mikami loved that chill on his cheeks. A compulsive hand-washer, his love was, and even the warm glide of his mouth over Mikami’s didn’t drown out the soap-and-water icy touch. Light rubbed his thumbs right beneath Mikami’s eyes, trailing over cheekbone ridges. Softly a moan caught between teeth as mouths opened to each other, tongues touching and singing – but Mikami couldn’t stop thinking of those cold hands. He slid his own over Light’s and twined their fingers, touching every uncovered inch.

“You’re not wearing it,” Mikami breathed over Light’s teeth. “No ring. You’re not wearing that ridiculous ring.”

“Not now.” Light squeezed and nipped his lower lip. “I never wear it to practice – you know that. It’s in my pocket.”

Mikami let his hand trailed down, treacherous, only to brush the hard raised outline on Light’s hip. Scoffing, he turned from the kiss and frowned. “She’s not even in town,” he said. “She’s missing all of our hard work to make faces at a camera.”

“I told her to go.” A tart note of frustration stung Light’s voice. “Misa is hard to uncouple with. Remember when she was one of our sopranos? Every day, it was like peeling off Velcro.”

“No one forced you to marry the Velcro.” The memory of when Misa worked in the opera house – trailing after Light with a look of hunger and begged for coffee dates, dinners, and to hold the cool hands that weren’t hers to clutch – whipped through Mikami. Yet Light’s eyes on him now, glowing hot along with his reddening cheeks, chastised every ghost of sulking. “Sorry. Yes. You told her to go, so we could use the apartment.”

“Don’t you like having me in the kitchen?” Light smiled – false, fake, too-sweet – and Mikami’s heart fell for it, leaping the moment lip corners lifted. “We could fuck here, on the table.”

“Here? But the speakers –“

“Hooked up to the piano.” A genuine grin melted over the first false one. “I want your hands on me Teru. Can’t you touch me? Feel me?” Light grabbed him by the wrist and slipped Mikami’s hand onto his flexing stomach. “What chords can you pluck inside me?”

“So many.” Mikami ducked to kiss beneath Light’s jaw. His fingers tapped skin at the metronome’s rhythm, muscles tightening in instrumental tension, until a high gasp sung above where he kissed. “I’ll make your body sing.”

Faintly, the tune of Beethoven’s’ Fifth tweeted from Light’s back pocket. He groaned, placing one hand on Mikami’s crown to keep him at his neck and slipping the other behind to snag his phone. Shutting his eyes, Mikami kept licking and sucking marks over the thin throat’s skin, measuring how hazy he could make Light’s voice.

“Hello?” Light answered in a flinty tone, which turned dull on his next word. “Oh. Hello Misa.” His fingers danced through Mikami’s dark hair, pinching his ear playfully while he spoke without interest. “Yes, I’m sure they’re very impressed. You’ve had a fascinating career. Model and singer … Tonight? I’m not doing much.”

Mikami dragged his hand to toy with Light’s pants button, reminding him of his actual nighttime plans. In response, cold fingers nipped his ear lobe.

“I don’t mind being alone.” Light flickered his gaze to Mikami, gesturing for him to come closer. Despite their closeness, his expression remained turned off – guarded from passion or amusement; neutral to a point of robotic. Mikami kissed the cheek opposite where Light held his phone, feeling the rumbling of his parting goodbye to Misa. “I have so much work to do anyway. And so do you, hm? Yes. I love you. Talk to you later.”

The phone skittered across the table and Light took hold of Mikami, thumbs dug into his cheeks.

“Wash it out,” he whispered. “If you kiss me, it’ll wash out what I said and you can taste it.”

Mikami dropped into a hard kiss of Light’s soft, wanting mouth; he licked over the seam of it until lips parted for him. He tasted the dull I love you and its blossom into a lush savory flavor as  he held Light closer, kissed him harder. Light opened to him, beckoning with hands and tongue to drink in an unspoken declaration. When they parted, their lips clicked on separation. Mikami grasped Light by the wrist and brought his hand to his mouth.