Look, They're Not All Death Note, I Swear.

[rionaleonhart]

Another batch of threesentenceficathon fills! Possibly the last batch of the year, but there are still a few days left in the event, so we'll see.



Danganronpa V3, Kaede and Shuichi, 350 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'As near as I can tell he wished for this moment to last forever / So we sit and hold hands and I am always / just about to leave.'

“Okay,” Monokuma announces, “time’s up! Kaede and Shuichi are being weird, and we’re not getting any real discussion done. It’s boring. Just vote already.”

“Shuichi,” Kaede says.

Time stutters around them, and the loop begins again. By this point, she barely even registers it. Shuichi’s been thrown back to his podium, of course, but he runs for the wall straight away.

“Hey,” Monokuma says, just as he always does, “order in the court!”

“Shuichi,” Kaede says, “you’ve looked enough. There’s no way out of this courtroom.”

“We don’t have to give up,” Shuichi says. He breaks one of the windows with his elbow, to Monokuma’s loud outrage, but it still doesn’t lead anywhere; it’s just a lightbox. “We still have time.”

They’ll have time forever. It feels like it’s been weeks.

“You said it yourself,” Kaede says. “We can’t loop back to before Rantaro dies. You can’t stop this happening.”

Shuichi looks back at her, his eyes wild and frantic. “Then why do I have this ability at all?”

She was so hopeful, the first time he looped back. But there’s no way out of this. She’s been caught in a trap from the start, and she’s tired of feeling it close.

“Maybe you’re not meant to save me,” Kaede says. “Maybe this is just a chance to accept what’s going to happen. I killed Rantaro.” It never gets any easier to say it, to hear the confused intakes of breath around the room. “And now I’m going to be punished for it.”

“Wow,” Monokuma says. “Wow. Just ruin the trial from the start, huh? Why not just take the First Blood Perk in the first place?”

“Just let it happen,” Kaede says, her eyes on Shuichi. “You have to keep going with your life.”

Shuichi hesitates, just long enough for her to hope he might actually listen.

“So do you,” he says at last. “I’m sorry. But, if this trial is the only place you can live, I can’t let it end.”

“Might as well start the voting,” Monokuma mutters sullenly.

“Shuichi,” Kaede says, desperate, and the loop begins again.



Death Note, Light and L, 330 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'You're the mystery that I am solving / Everything is dangerous when it's just the two of us.'

“It must be frustrating for you, speaking to me,” L says. “If you’re Kira.”

“Frustrating?” Light asks. “Rather than dangerous?”

“It would be dangerous, I suppose,” L says, “but can you see how it might also be frustrating?”

Of course he can see it. It would be ludicrous to pretend he can’t reach a simple conclusion. “I’d never be able to say what I was actually thinking.”

L looks at him in silence for a moment. “You’re very astute, Light-kun.”

Light very carefully does not grit his teeth. “That’s the case for any conversation, though. Someone might try to spare another person’s feelings, or to avoid an inflammatory topic. You don’t have to be a murderer to be careful about what you say.”

“Is that so?” L asks. “I suppose you might be right.”

“I do find it frustrating to speak to you, sometimes,” Light says. “You insist on suspecting me.”

“I think it might be interesting to try an exercise,” L says. “Imagine that you’re Kira, and you can say whatever you want to me. You know I’m about to die, let’s say. There’s no risk involved; your words will never leave this room. What would you say?”

Light searches L’s eyes. They’re as hard to read as ever.

A hypothetical scenario; it’s not a confession. What will sound the most authentic here? The truth, he supposes.

“I’d tell you I was Kira,” Light says, at last. “I’d want you to know.”

L nods. “And?”

“I’d tell you you were about to die,” Light says. “I’d tell you I’d won.”

L tilts his head to one side. “I’d already know that from the fact that you’re telling me you’re Kira. I’m a little offended that you think I wouldn’t have deduced it.”

Light considers leaving it there. The less he says, the safer, probably. But somehow he finds himself speaking again. “I’d tell you that I’ve enjoyed these conversations.”

A small smile cracks onto L’s face. “So have I.”



Death Note, Light, 230 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'I just need a little time / To get your face right out of my mind.'

The Death Note is reasonably forgiving when it comes to faces. The name must be correctly spelled, but Light doesn’t need to picture the face in perfect detail, every mole or freckle, blemish or birthmark. So long as he’s seen the person’s face and can call a reasonable impression of it to mind, the Death Note will work.

He’s spent a lot of time dwelling on L’s face, all the same. Tracing the details in his head, trying to burn it into his mind. Knowing L’s face is a weapon, and a part of him was once afraid that, when he hunted down L’s name at last, the face would somehow slip his mind.

An irrational concern, he knows. L’s face isn’t exactly a forgettable one. But he still took care to remember it.

It’s a hard habit to break, even with L dead. Lying awake at night, Light still finds himself picturing him relentlessly, constantly. We need this face. Don’t forget it.

If he’d written L’s name in the Death Note himself, maybe his body would be able to remember that there’s no need to hold on like this.

It doesn’t matter. L’s just as dead either way. If he lingers in Light’s mind for a while, that’s fine; it’s just another reminder of Light’s victory.

When he closes his eyes, L looks back at him from the inside of his eyelids.



Death Note, Light, 270 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'I can't wait to go to your funeral knowing I could have changed that outcome.'

L’s funeral is a small affair. It’s no surprise; the man lived anonymously, and he said himself that Light was his first friend.

Light was half-expecting to find the casket empty. A new challenge, a new game: I’m still alive; come and kill me. But there L is, in the coffin Light put him in.

It feels strange to see him without his usual hunched posture. They probably had to straighten his spine out with a rolling pin to make him lie flat.

Strange to see the peaceful expression on his face, too. L was never at rest; the only expression that ever looked at home on his features was a kind of intense unreadability.

I won, Light tells him, in his head. Be furious. Be petulant. Praise me. Try to find a way you can turn it around on me.

L is still just lying there, straight-backed and serene. The more Light looks, the more unrecognisable he feels.

Look like yourself, Light commands him. I need to know for sure that I’ve killed you.

A sudden hand on Light’s shoulder startles him into looking up. It’s his father.

Trying to comfort him, Light realises, after a moment of blank confusion. He supposes he’s been staring into the coffin for a while.

“I’m sorry,” his father says. “I know this must be a difficult day for you.”

I want to drag him out of that coffin and make him look like himself. I want to mount him on my wall. I want to look into his blank eyes every day and know I’ve won.

“I’m fine,” Light says.



Death Note, Light/Aizawa, 400 words. First posted here, in response to the prompt 'And baby, when it's love, if it's not rough, it isn't fun.'

Aizawa’s increasingly been finding himself alone in the office with Light, in the evenings. Aizawa has been staying later in the hope of learning more about what’s really going on here, and Light...

Well. One way or another, Light always seems to find cause to stay late when Aizawa does, so Aizawa can never truly look around freely. It doesn’t feel like that can be accidental.

Light’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “I know you’ve been speaking to the Americans about your suspicions.”

Aizawa goes cold. “My suspicions?”

“Deception doesn’t suit you, Aizawa-san,” Light says, with a laugh. “You’re not the former L.”

“We should really be using our aliases,” Aizawa says.

It feels like a threat, whenever Light uses his real name. That quiet reminder that he knows it, that there’s no way to take that knowledge away from him.

“Of course,” Light says. “My mistake, Aihara-san.”

They look at each other for a few beats too long. I know you’ve been speaking to the Americans. Is this where Light shows his true colours; is this where Aizawa dies?

“I’ll admit I’ve been behaving a little oddly,” Light says. “I can’t blame you for being suspicious. I suppose I’ve just been embarrassed to find myself attracted to an older man.”

The words feel so alien, from Light’s mouth, that it takes Aizawa a moment to process them.

You don’t sound embarrassed, he thinks, numbly. You sound like you’re delivering a presentation.

“I’m sure you’ve been frustrated, since your divorce,” Light says. “If I can provide any outlet for that frustration, I’d be happy to.” He unknots his own tie as he speaks; the motion feels carefully practised. “You can be rough with me, if you’d like.”

I’ll happily be rough with you, Aizawa doesn’t say. He feels hot and dizzy and sick. I’ll break both your hands, so you can’t write.

He can’t tell himself he has a choice here. Light is testing out strategies, trying to remove him as a threat. If Aizawa doesn’t fall for this, Light may well move on to Kira’s usual method for removing obstacles.

Light will be vulnerable, in the act. If Aizawa manages to get his hands around his throat, maybe—

He can’t think about this. He won’t make himself a part of some terrible chain, killing the killers of killers.

He whispers an apology to Soichiro in his head.

“I’ll book a hotel,” he says.



A full four of these five fills were prompted by doreyg, who continues to post prompts calculated to harpoon me straight through the heart.