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L's Rock Band

Chapter Text

L crouched on the floor in front of his laptop in his unfurnished room at Wammy's House, surrounded by dusty piles of paper and discarded candy wrappers as he finished drafting an e-mail in French for the French police. What he had written translated to "The butler did it." He clicked send.

L pulled up another file, another case.

Unnoticed by the Detective, Watari stood in the doorway, watching his ward with some concern. While it might look like business as usual to everyone else, Watari knew his ward to be very depressed. It was quite obvious that L had a crush on Naomi Misora, or at least the idea of Misora (took him long enough). He had taken her rejection (and subsequent engagement to Raye Penber) rather hard...

Watari sighed, here L was finally showing interest in the outside world just to withdraw again… and now the way he was throwing himself into cases—while his productivity was astounding, at this rate he'd just burn out quicker. This was a mistake they made with the first generation. He and Roger made sure that the successors all had at least one hobby and were more balanced.

But with L showing interest in the outside world, however fleeting, perhaps it wasn't too late to correct this behavior after all... Meanwhile, the furious typing never ceased as L's spidery fingers flew across the keyboard.

"The wife murdered her husband," L typed in Russian. (Angry click, message sent, open next case.)

She didn't have to kick me. A simple 'no' would have sufficed.

"L..." Watari tried to think of a tactful way to broach the subject but when L kept ignoring him he decided on the direct approach. "All you ever do is solve cases."

L paused in his typing, looking confused. "But... that's what you trained me to do."

"It's not healthy," Watari insisted.

L turned back to his laptop. "Thank you for your concern."

"You need a hobby."

Glazed eyes didn't stray from the screen, "I'm fine, Watari."

Watari ignored him. "Maybe... your singing..."

L's bangs fell over his eyes in shame. No one was supposed to know about that! He only sang sometimes when he (on rare occasion) showered. Before L could protest Watari got out his cellphone and a few moments later snapped it shut. "You're booked for your debut at the Red Dragon Night club in London next week. You'll play a live show there," Watari said in a voice that brooked no room for argument.

"WHAT?" L sputtered. "Watari, this is insane! I—I don't sing! And there's security to consider and..."

"Yes, we can't have anyone guessing your true identity. So in order for you to relax and have fun..."

"That's not possible..."

"It has to be something so audacious, so outrageous no one would ever guess... Oh, I know! Maybe you could start a death metal band," the elderly gentleman mused aloud, recalling a recent high profile case of L's—the murderer had managed to kill and masquerade as the band's drummer because everyone in the band wore masks and makeup. L's mouth gaped open as he gave Watari his best "you've got to be kidding me" face.

"Who knows maybe you'll even meet someone special." Watari attempted to soothe his ward even as he was in the middle of a panic attack.

What was Watari thinking? Was he trying to hook him up with somebody just because of his momentary insanity during the L.A.B.B.? If that was the case then he shouldn't bother. It was past. L had decided that women and all the intricacies of their dating rituals weren't worth his time…

"Oh look, the Kira case!" L exclaimed loudly, trying desperately to change the subject.

Yes, this looked interesting. This might actually be a challenge… (And maybe if he was lucky Kira would kill him before Watari made him go through with this and he died of public humiliation.)

Of course Watari saw right through it, "Oh no you don't. Come hell or high water you're not missing your debut!"

Crap.

***

Well if Watari was going to force him to embark on a singing career, he wasn't going up on that stage alone. Others must share in this humiliation…

L paused by the rec room to see a couple of his successors (he believed they were called Mello and Matt) playing Rock Band. L watched for three seconds as Mello's fingers went up and down the fake bass controller and Matt banged on the drums before announcing "Congratulations, you've been drafted..."

"Piss off!" growled the blonde boy as he and Matt concentrated on playing their rendition of "Hammer Smashed Face" on Hard. Of course they didn't know it was L speaking to them. To them L was a name on the computer screen which occasionally addressed the school. They knew the skinny, messy-haired man before them to be Mr. Lyles their eccentric art teacher.

"Oh, but it's a special project from L himself..."

Mello immediately pulled the plug on their game much to Matt's displeasure.

L grinned, amused by their reaction.

"Okay, we're listening."

"Uh... It's for a case, an infiltration mission. Long story short L needs a rock band..."

Mello and Matt looked panicked. "You do realize that was a game. We don't play..."

"You'll figure it out—your genii, aren't you?"

L was pleased by the matching terrified looks on the genii's faces. Misery loves company.

"This order comes directly from L; you two are going to be in my band."

"B-but I don't have time for stuff like that!" Mello argued, "I have to study and keep my grades up, I..." He shouldn't have even been goofing off now...

"I'll make this assignment worth 200 school credits." L didn't realize that this was about to turn Wammy's upside down. He didn't really bother with the affairs of his successors other than in an abstract way (for one it was safer for them and him that way—one B was enough. Also he didn't like being reminded of the unlikely event of his death.) He didn't realize that with that many credits Mello could finally secure the number one spot in the successor game...

"When do we start!" Mello was suddenly very enthusiastic. Matt was as usual apathetic but if this helped Mello, of course he would support him.

"We debut in a week. Watari will get you your instruments. We'll begin practicing once we get settled in Japan as I solve the Kira case."

When L glanced over to see his shell-shocked successors he added as an afterthought "Oh right, since you two will be working with me I suppose I can tell you, I am L."

Matt supported the suddenly queasy Mello as he realized that they were talking to THE L—his idol and the Greatest Detective in the world—and earlier he had told L to "piss off."

***

As the trio packed for their trip, taking suitcases to the Roll's outside where Watari was waiting to take them to the airport, they came upon Near who was obnoxiously sitting in the middle of the walkway.

"You're missing something, aren't you?" Near stated.

L looked puzzled.

"For your band..." News traveled fast at Wammy's. Near had already heard.

"Uh..."

"Like a guitarist?"

"But it sounded complete when Mello and Matt were playing the game..." L thought aloud.

"That was the computer filling in the gaps," Matt exposited.

"Oh. Can't we just do that?"

"If you want the band to be lame, then yes," Near said as he dramatically removed his little toy guitar from the inside of his pajama top—it was all he could find on such short notice.

Mello tried to hide his rising panic. No, Near can't join the band! That meant he'd be bumped back down to the number two spot again...

Near began to play. It sounded very good… for being played on a toy guitar, and being what seemed to be a stylized rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."

"You need a guitarist, don't you?" Near stated again, oh-so-subtly.

"Near, it's a death metal band!" Mello exclaimed. "Your style is too kiddy."

L nodded. Mello was right. It sucked. This entire thing was embarrassing enough but he couldn't even consider going anywhere near a stage with a guitarist that sounded like that...

"I'll consider it," L assured. "Come on Mello, Matt we're going to Japan, now."

As Near watched the retreating backs of the raven, the blonde, and the red-head as they proceeded down the hall and out the front doors of Wammy's House, Near gripped the neck of his toy guitar so hard the strings snapped.

***

A long, long time ago in the Shinigami realm (which is far, far away…)

Ryuk glanced around nervously as the horror known as Nu lead him into the audience chamber.

Why had he been called upon by the Shinigami King? Did he find out about that one time he kind of messed up his skull pile?

Ryuk barely managed to conceal his sigh in relief as the Shinigami King began talking. This didn't seem to be about that... "There is an ancient prophecy," The King began, "Through this Death Note shall their give rise to the Chosen Kira, I'm entrusting it to you, Ryuk..."

Ryuk had relaxed once he realized he wasn't in trouble and had since turned his attention to the wonder of the King's palace, or more specifically the garden which could be seen from the palace window...

Are those apple trees?

"RYUK!"

"Yeah, yeah I hear you! ...My Lord," Ryuk added hastily.

The King nodded his bony head and passed Ryuk the artifact. "You will know when the time is right. Until then, we wait..."

Ryuk hastily strapped the Death Note to his person and began his retreat when the King called after him. "Oh and Ryuk..." The King pointed at Ryuk with a bony hand, "Do not fail me."

Ryuk trembled in fear.

Eons pass… (But it didn't take that long for Ryuk to forget everything the King had said...)

"I'm bored out of freakin' my skull!" Ryuk growled in frustration and demonstrated this by throwing the nearest object—which just so happened to be the artifact that the King entrusted to him. By the time he came to his senses he could only watch helplessly as it disappeared into the whirling pool of light...

"You screwed up big-time, didn't you?" asked an antelope-headed Shinigami that watched Ryuk's little hissy fit.

"Eh, Gukku, does that portal go to..."

"The human world? Yes."

"Ooh boy... No wait—time is right, meant to do that. Totally! Kukuku... shit."

***

Kanto, Japan. One week ago

Where one very bored genius just happens to look out the window to see something large and black falling out of the sky and, oddly, nobody else seems to notice. But there it is—he can see it from the window.

An electric guitar fell from the sky.

Light Yagami glanced around his class, again looked out the window, then at his class again. Yes, nobody else seemed to notice, or care.

WTF? Seriously, does no one else see that? A GUITAR just fell from the sky. There is a GUITAR sticking out of the ground!

Light quickly asked the teacher to be excused, and with it being his too agog English teacher who would do anything for his favorite student (anything), he readily agreed. Once outside, Light went out to the lawn to investigate. The guitar was embedded neck-first in the ground where it fell and was sticking up out of the lawn. It looked like it was stuck in there good but when Light gave it an experimental tug it easily slipped out into his grip. Light examined his prize. It was a black guitar with white skull-trim and stylized lettering written in English. The body had the words "Death Note" written on it. Along the neck in fine print it was written "The human who so picketh up this Death Note is the chosen Kira, Bringer of Death, Smiter of Evil, The Cleansing Fire..." the list went on. (It was very fine print.) Light eyed the instrument of murder skeptically. "You've got to be kidding me..."