Chapter Text
It was strange, the way that time could sprint by or lumber on, depending on the activity. How the hours spent on a turbulent bus ride could feel like mere minutes, whilst the short trek up the hill to the main building of the campsite felt like it dragged on for days. The difference was the company.
In Matt's company, Mello had a rare opportunity to relax and be himself, as if the stress of Wammy's House was a past nightmare confined to his memory. Matt had stolen a Gameboy from the common room before they left and had intended to play it, but his motion sickness had prevented him from squeezing in even ten minutes’ worth of gaming before he had to shove it back into his bag. That meant Mello had his full attention the whole bus ride. They alternated between talking freely about any and every topic they could think of, and exchanging lame jokes that had them both in stitches.
Meanwhile, the venture to the building, for some reason, had to be done in their assigned pairs based on alphabetical order of their names. So, Mello was stuck dragging two sets of luggage up a steep incline on behalf of his physically inferior partner Near, whose bag was surprisingly the heavier of the two. It was probably packed with all those stupid toys and puzzles he was always playing with at the orphanage, though based on Roger's briefing about the camp, Mello doubted they would have enough downtime for such activities.
And even if Near tried to waste time with his childish hobbies, it's not like Mello would let him; a meeting with L was on the line, and if Mello was going to work effectively with Near, he wouldn't tolerate anything less than steadfast dedication. There was no place for puzzles and whatever other nonsense the brat was into.
Of all the people to be stuck with for four of the most pivotal days of Mello’s life, of course it had to be the boy with the porcelain skin that had never been touched by sun, and a pair of unsteady legs he seldom used. Not to mention that this was the very boy whom the institution had deemed better than Mello in every conceivable way. Even so, Mello had done enough protesting back at the house, and had conceded to the fact that this was an unchangeable reality.
As he readjusted one of the bags to ease the ache in his shoulder, Mello was already mentally rifling through the possible options as to how he could sneak out of his dorm and visit Matt late at night, rather than sleeping in a room with Near. Surely, they could negotiate a switch without the caregivers finding out. It wasn’t as if Near would complain – and if he did, Mello had a few ideas on how to make him regret it for the rest of his damn life.
His eyes flicked over to where Matt was already at the top of the hill, standing beside a lanky brunette whose visible forehead was shadowed by a wall of acne. His name was something like Leo or Liam; Mello didn’t care enough to know the specifics. Mello hoped the boy’s outward lack of charm reflected his personality, so that Matt would remain loyal to Mello throughout the trip. No, even if he was the most charismatic person in the world, there was no way Matt would choose him over his best friend of six years. Mello scoffed at the thought.
He turned back to Near, who was at least two metres further down the hill than him, panting and clinging tightly to the red plastic robot in his hands. Mello’s mouth twisted into a scowl.
“Hurry up,” he urged.
Near glanced up at him. Heavy lids instantly fell over charcoal eyes upon the invasion of burning sunlight, and just as soon as he had found Mello’s gaze, he lost it again in favour of watching the earth beneath them.
“Come on, at least you’re not the one who has to carry two goddamn bags,” Mello said.
“You shouldn’t have offered if you weren’t willing to carry them.”
Mello’s only response was a guttural growl. He could grab Near by the collar and punch him in the face and Near would still maintain that infuriating calm demeanour as if nothing had happened. At least a witty retort would have been nice for once, rather than a bland, logical reply. Every sentence uttered in that dull manner of his served as a reminder that the boy was little more than a robot, a sentient version of the figurine he treated like an extension of himself.
Mello paused to switch one bag over to the opposite arm. He waited for Near to trudge further up the hill until he was close enough that Mello could extend his free hand and grasp one of Near’s cotton sleeves at the shoulder. He channelled every modicum of remaining strength into hauling his assigned partner up along the curve of flattened grass and towards the main building, refusing to stop even when Near’s untied shoes slid off and the soles of his fuzzy white socks became stained with streaks of dirt. Aside from a small squeak of surprise at the sudden contact, Near remained stoic, keeping his lips drawn into a line and his blank stare firmly anchored to the ground.
They reached the top of the hill to find a muddy field, with a fire pit in the centre and a series of facilities serving as a partial border around the grass in an L-shaped arrangement. Each structure was comprised of corrugated iron walls and a sturdy roof overlooking a concrete veranda. Of the two longest buildings, Mello counted sixteen doors and adjacent plaques, each with a number etched into the rusting metal. Considering this was where the other students were huddled, their bags dumped to the side in a haphazard pile, he presumed this consisted of the essential locations; dormitories, a dining hall, maybe some kind of assembly space or an activity room like the common room back at Wammy’s.
On the other side of a gravel pathway stood a tin shed beside a range of outdoor activities including two rock climbing walls and a rectangular trampoline built into the dirt. Mello’s eyes illuminated at the sight of it. He tried to squint to catch a glimpse of any other visible equipment or decorations, but the shed and a line of trees behind it obscured his view of the horizon. He hadn’t noticed that he had let go of Near until he saw the exhausted boy practically crawling up to the top of the hill to join the group, mud-soiled shoes clutched in one hand.
Mello deposited the two sets of luggage onto the veranda of the first building amongst the pile of other bags. He and Near were the last to arrive, and before Near even had the chance to settle his rapid breathing from the strenuous climb, Mello had already set off, pushing past the dense crowd of orphans to reach Matt and the other boy who Mello had already decided he didn’t like. Near followed him through the small crowd and stopped barely a metre away. Mello pretended not to notice his unwelcome presence. He nudged Matt, but the first words of a conversation were stifled by the sound of Roger clearing his throat from the grass area nearby. Every pair of eager eyes turned to face him.
The old man stood hunched over, watching the group through round spectacles perched on the tip of his nose. He addressed them with a nod and cleared his throat a second time to dull the final murmurs of lingering chatter that hadn’t yet died out.
“Welcome to the campgrounds,” he greeted. “This is where you’ll be spending the next few days, and the dormitories to my left are where you’ll sleep. Every room contains a set of bunk beds. One will be assigned to each pair.”
Mello couldn’t suppress his groan. Sharing a room with Near sounded like the epitome of Hell on Earth. Though, as much as he hated Near, he wasn’t the worst option for a partner, considering the objective of the camp. Over the course of four days, L would issue a series of challenges for them to complete, and the pair with the most points would have the opportunity to meet him in person on the fourth day. Mello had to be the one to meet L. It was to his advantage to have a partner whose intelligence was almost as extraordinary as his own. Insufferable as he was, at least Near wouldn’t hold Mello back like some of the other kids might.
Roger reached into his pocket and retrieved several slips of paper, and Mello’s sour expression quickly illuminated. He had already begun to theorise about what they could contain. A message from L? Instructions? The first challenge? He was restless now, practically bouncing on the spot. The chance that he might actually get to meet L, after years of idolising him, seemed so much more real now that he was here. A few hushed whispers arose from the crowd, mirroring Mello’s thoughts. Mello’s eyes were wide and alert, and bolted to the papers as Roger straightened the stack in his hands.
“The keys to your dorms are hidden somewhere on this campsite,” Roger continued. He raised his hand to show off the stack of papers. “These contain the clues to help you find them. The first three pairs to return with their keys will receive points that will count towards your chances of meeting L.”
A third wave of chatter ensued, and some of the orphans began to rush closer to Roger in the hopes of getting a head start on the challenge. The more energy radiated from the group, the more Roger’s shoulders seemed to sink, and Mello swore he saw new wrinkles forming across the man’s forehead. He waved the crowd away, encouraging a few of them to step back towards the wall.
“Please remain silent as I call each of you up to receive your clue,” he instructed.
Matt nudged Mello. “Catch up with you later?”
“Hell yeah,” Mello said. “Next time I see you, I’ll be one step closer to meeting L.”
Matt snorted and turned back to his partner as Roger began reading each pair of names alphabetically. As soon as Matt was called out, Mello straightened his back and stepped forward in eager anticipation to kick off the coolest camp of his life – albeit tarnished by Near’s company.
“Mello and Near,” Roger read.
Mello took the slip of paper from the old man’s frail hand. He skimmed his eyes over the text.
Mello & Near: Dormitory #9
Found by a place with walls of tin,
Or the act of a snake removing skin.
A tin shed, a snake shedding its skin; the key was hidden by the shed. Interesting… that seemed suspiciously easy. Either L was planning to increase the difficulty of the challenges over time, or the clue was made up by Roger or one of the other adults who clearly underestimated Mello’s brain power. If the whole camp was set up by the Wammy’s House staff, it would be a breeze. Although, that meant there was a chance that the other kids also had easy riddles, and he couldn’t risk letting some other idiot steal his rightfully earned points. It all came down to how quickly he could get to that shed and retrieve the key.
Mello strutted over to the small boy seated on the edge of the veranda where concrete met fresh mud. One hand held his robot toy in place on his bent knee whilst the other fidgeted with its arms. Mello dropped the paper into Near’s lap.
“While you were playing with that stupid piece of plastic, I already solved our riddle,” he bragged.
Near sighed and set the robot on the ground beside him. He read over the italicised words.
“It’s by the shed.” He scrunched the paper into a ball and shoved it into the pocket of his button-up shirt. “Is that the conclusion you came to?”
“Yep.”
Near reached for the robot, but Mello was quicker and snatched it before his hand was close enough to pick it up. He studied the figure for a moment before chucking it into the pile of bags. One of the arms broke off and fell down a crack between two backpacks. Mello felt guilty for approximately 2.5 seconds before he saw Near’s vacant expression and remembered that the boy wasn’t capable of sadness.
“Forget that thing,” Mello said. “We gotta go.”
“I was intending to change my socks first, considering you-”
His words were cut off by the sudden act of Mello grasping his arm for the second time and tugging him to his feet. Near stumbled onto the grass and clung to Mello to maintain his balance. Mello’s focus was upon the shed, searching the area around it just in case another clue was visible from a distance, hidden in plain sight. It was barely noon; the sun watched over the campsite from its zenith in the sky, and the reflection of its rays off the tin roof was intense enough to force Mello’s head in the opposite direction.
As for the surrounding area, the light only touched the dirt in a speckled pattern, courtesy of the tree canopies and the tall climbing walls nearby. With one arm raised to shield his eyes, Mello managed to comfortably survey the ground. The riddle specifically stated that the key would be found by the shed, not in it, so the most logical assumption was that the key was buried in the ground. If that was the case, there would definitely be some other clue to indicate where to search. There was a chance they could find some kind of shovel or metal detector within the shed – ideally both – but the assortment of sticks and twigs that had fallen on the ground would be a useful backup option as a digging tool.
Mello released Near once they reached the shed’s entrance and he used both hands to heave the door open. Immediately, his eye was drawn to a collection of shovels in the corner. He could see three of them supported by holders on the wall, adjacent a step that led up to a platform where a variety of activities had been set up for use. That suggested there would at least be some free time outside of challenges. There was a ping pong table and a dart board, and what appeared to be two very old arcade games that Mello was certain would serve as Matt’s primary source of entertainment. Mello made a mental note to return to the shed later so he could properly explore its interior. Right now, none of the available pastimes were of interest to him. His attention was fully invested in the shovels.
“I think the best option is that-” Mello halted when he spun around mid-sentence to find that no one was behind him. “Near?”
His gaze fell to the ground. Near was squatting on the dirt just outside of the shed, eyes hooded and hands rested on his knees as if engaging in some bizarre form of meditation. Mello was almost too confused by the sight to be annoyed at the fact that Near’s odd behaviour was slowing them down. He blinked several times, wondering if Near was trying to fuck with him or if he really was just a weirdo. He uttered the only words that seemed fitting.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Near’s eyelids opened fully but he kept his head down, angled towards the soil beneath him.
“I’m not accustomed to standing so much,” he said. “My legs are tired.”
There was a second-long pause whilst Mello processed those words before he gave a dramatic huff and screwed up his face in frustration.
“Are you serious?”
Near finally looked up. “Yes.”
Mello made a show of rolling his eyes now that he knew Near would see him. No matter how much Mello indicated his blatant irritation, Near didn’t react – even a simple damn apology would have worked – but he at least made a clumsy effort to push himself up from his position. Mello yanked his arm to help him to his feet, which only resulted in the opposite effect as Near stumbled and his hand shot out to balance himself. He managed to regain his composure, but it still left Mello with hundreds of alarm bells screeching in his mind with the obvious predicament in front of him. Being paired with Near was going to be more of an issue than he had accounted for.
He regarded Near’s form with a sweep of his eyes. His frame was so small, his posture was visibly atrocious, and he only set foot outside on extremely rare occasions back at Wammy’s House, indicated by a complexion so pale, it rivalled paper. When he wasn’t seated at a classroom desk or at the library, most of his time was spent sitting on the floor solving a puzzle or playing with his toys. Near did have a brilliant mind, a fact that Mello didn’t like to admit to himself 99% of the time, but had been mollified by when he was operating under the assumption that L would only be interested in testing their intellectual capabilities. What he hadn’t considered was the challenges relying on physical ability.
What was Mello supposed to do with a partner who had trouble merely standing still for longer than five minutes? He could easily injure Near if he wanted to. If he did that, Near might be encouraged to sit out for the rest of the camp, and Mello could complete the challenges on his own. Near certainly wouldn’t bother to rat him out in that instance. But would that even achieve anything? How much would these challenges depend on their ability to work as a team? He just couldn’t take that risk. He had to accept that he was stuck with Near. The excitement he had about this camp, the confidence he had in his prospects of winning… he could feel it all rapidly haemorrhaging out of his body.
Near’s voice lured him out of his web of thoughts. “What were you going to tell me?”
With a final sigh, Mello decided to shelve his concerns for the time being and channel all his focus into the task at hand: finding that key and accessing their dorm. There was no way he was giving up on his goal, regardless of how incompetent Near was.
“Right.” Mello turned around and pointed to the shovels that rested against the wall. “I think we should take two of those, and try to dig through the dirt to find our key.”
“And where do you expect to do that? Aimlessly digging through all of the dirt around the shed could take us hours.”
Mello folded his arms over his chest. “You find a solution then, smartass.”
Near nodded and crossed the space to the wall where the shovels were rested. They varied in size, with the tallest of the bunch reaching Near’s chest in height. There was also a plastic spade on the ground beside the larger tools, much like the kind a child would use at the beach paired with a bucket and a generous amount of sand. Near seemed to take a liking to the toy and squatted on the floor again to inspect it. He lifted it with one hand whilst the other busied itself twirling wavy strands of his platinum bangs. Mello resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. What a fucking waste of time.
He marched over to the collection of shovels and leaned against the wall beside them. Up close, their appearances each had noticeable similarities and differences. All except the toy in Near’s possession had a shaft crafted from metal or wood, with a handle at one end and a blade at the other. The tallest one had a triangular handle and a rounded blade, resembling the design Mello would have envisioned when picturing a shovel. Another had a smaller blade of an identical shape, but its handle was a horizontal bar on the end of a wooden pole. The third one was a garden shovel, with a square blade and a metal stick, and was significantly shorter than its counterparts.
Mello inspected each of them for any symbols or clues. He noticed remnants of dirt on all of the blades, the beginnings of rust creeping into their metal components and scratch marks on the wooden parts. Nothing stood out to him in particular. They were all fairly basic shovel designs. If there was going to be something on any of these, it would most likely be the medium-sized stick with the wooden shaft. He carefully slid it out from its spot and spun it around in his hands. A scratch just below the handle caught his eye, and as he leaned in closer, he could make out small initials engraved into the wood. S.T.
S.T… as in the street? Saint? Station? Mello ran his finger along the ridges of the engraving. The letters looked as though they had been carved recently, with the wood splintering as if it were still recovering from the wrath of a sharp implement. Considering this was the only clue they found had thus far, he figured it must have been intended for them – but what the hell could it possibly mean? Maybe there were engravings on the other shovels, or even elsewhere in the shed, with extra letters that spelled out a word.
Mello jolted at the sensation of something poking his ankle. He peered down to find that Near was nudging him, still staring intently at his plastic spade. Mello groaned.
“What do you want?”
“There’s a clue on the back of this.” Near’s eyes only flicked up to Mello for a moment. “It says, ‘Rushuall.’”
Mello instantly recognised the unique name. Rushuall Bid. The man responsible for the first crime L ever solved. Mello remembered learning about the case from Wammy himself, when he spoke to the orphans a few years ago about how L’s detective journey began. The man committed a series of murders in Colombia by dragging his victims into a forest and burying them alive. So, the key was probably buried by the grove behind the shed. Mello glanced back at his abandoned shovel with ‘S.T.’ engraved below the handle. He gritted his teeth. Of course, it had to be Near’s goddamn toy that contained the clue. The one thing he found had been useless.
“You could have told me earlier,” he griped.
“I had to decode it first.”
Near flipped the spade over and showed Mello the back. A series of lines and dashes had been drawn on the blade and along the shaft, with small gaps between each group of symbols. Mello exhaled and took one of the shovels from the wall.
“Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go search.”
Near stood up. “We still don’t have an exact area to look in.”
“Rushuall Bid buried his victims in a forest. I think if we check out the trees behind the shed, we’ll find something. It shouldn’t be too far away.”
Near turned around and cast his eye across the shed. Mello did the same, briefly searching the crevices in the walls and the activities on the opposite side for any indication that an additional clue might be lurking within the confines of wood and tin. It was highly unlikely that anything would jump out at them since the collection of shovels had been obvious enough. A second hint that was equally easy to find wouldn’t make for a very effective challenge. Mello made the executive decision to leave the shed, not caring enough to know if Near was following behind.
By the time Mello had started exploring around the foliage, Near was only halfway between the shed and the first row of trees. He hobbled along with the garden shovel clutched in his hand. Mello was silently relieved that he hadn’t brought the plastic spade with him, lest he ruin the search with his useless digging tool. Mello’s first strategy was to search each trunk for marks or engravings that might indicate the location of the key. In his mind, the words ‘by the shed’ were echoing on repeat, reminding him not to stray too far. Even so, the depths of the grove began to look increasingly more appealing as his investigation proved fruitless.
His eyes followed the tall trunks up to a network of leaves and branches where the closely planted trees tangled into a single shelter for a field of dirt. The backyard at Wammy’s House hosted a garden of similar thick trees that he had a whole childhood worth of experience climbing. If he could survey the area from a higher vantage point, he might have a better chance of spying another clue – or better, the key itself. He glanced behind him for a moment, just in case Near had found anything useful that would render his efforts pointless. His shoulders slumped in sync with his heavy sigh.
Near had once again taken the opportunity whilst Mello was preoccupied to squat on the ground and rest his legs. His eyes were closed this time, presumably to avoid the sun’s glare despite the fact that he had deliberately chosen a spot in the shadow of the largest tree. Mello pressed his lips together and turned back to the grove. He made a mental note to discuss Near’s lack of contribution later, once they had access to their dorm. Raising the issue now would only slow them down, as tempting as it was to liberate the captive frustration in his chest.
He selected one of the trees closest to the shed and scaled the trunk with ease. His first priority was to inspect each branch and divot of the crown until he was satisfied that there was nothing useful to be found. There didn’t seem to be any deliberate markings or objects positioned in his vicinity; though in fairness, it would be cruel, even for L, to hide a vital piece of evidence in one specific tree amongst tens. It could take hours of searching if that were the case. He was more likely to find something if he looked below the crests of the trees, in places that would still be visible from the ground.
He found a comfortable perch on a sturdy point where the bark wasn’t rough enough to hurt. The added height gave him a perfect view of the other canopies around him, as well as bright rocks and the occasional flower that stood out against the dusty brown of the dirt. He buried himself in the shade of the leaves to ward off the blinding sunlight, and let his eyes sweep back and forth across his surroundings in slow oscillations.
The farthest points of the campsite were barely visible between the tangle of leaves. Mello could make out an archery range and what looked to be a mini golf course, where several pairs of orphans were running around barking instructions at one another. Seeing so many groups still searching for their key eased some of the tension in Mello’s muscles. He pushed himself up on his knees. He was like an owl, overlooking the grove from the safety of a tree, his head twisting around as far as it would go to give himself an almost 360-degree view of his surroundings.
A flash of white captured his attention from somewhere to his left and he repositioned his body to face it front-on. A wide grin permeated his face. Bingo. From a distance, it was just a fuzzy white blob resting in the junction between two tree branches, but he could tell it wasn’t a natural part of the environment. The bright shade seemed out of place against the dark backdrop of soil and bark, and the way it had been tucked away in the crevice suggested that someone had deliberately hidden it there. Someone who intended for it to be found.
Mello lurched forwards and attempted to lower himself onto the ground as quickly as possible, his sole mission to complete the challenge before everyone else. In his hasty descent, his foot caught on a protruding branch and he felt the weight of gravity tugging on his suspended body. He managed to grab hold of the branch and hung there for a moment, helpless.
“Near!” he called out.
Stupid decision. It wasn’t like the damn sheep would have the strength to catch him. He only had himself to rely on, and a very unstable branch; the exact thing that had tripped him up in the first place. His feet swung around, seeking something he could grip to balance himself. The branch caved beneath his weight and he muttered a curse under his breath as he slid down the trunk, plummeting butt-first into the dirt. Near was already by his side, watching him through the giant voids of his eyes.
“Are you okay?” Near asked.
“Fine.” Mello pointed to the tree where he had seen the white blob. “There’s something up there.”
Near’s gaze followed Mello’s finger up to the branch. “I don’t see anything.”
Mello managed to clamber to his feet, mostly unscathed aside from the stinging sensation in his rear from the sticks and the hard ground that caught him as he fell. He walked over to the tree and took particular care this time to find ridges in the trunk that would support his feet. It didn’t take much of a climb for him to access the white object where it was nestled between two branches. He plucked it from its perch and jumped down. It was a paper scroll tied up with a red ribbon. Mello beamed as he waved it in the air. He was mostly just pleased that he had been the one to find the second clue, rather than letting stupid Near take another victory for the day.
Near wandered towards him and peered over his shoulder as Mello unfolded the paper. On the back was L’s signature logo; the letter ‘L’ written in Cloister Black that occupied the majority of the page. On the opposite side was a map of the grove. Mello’s triumphant grin only continued to grow. An ‘X’ was placed right between the two trees directly behind the shed. It was adjacent to where Near had been digging, but not quite close enough that they had a head start on it. Mello kneeled beside the area and plunged his shovel into the dirt.
The process of digging was harder than Mello bargained for. By the time his shovel struck an object in the ground, his shoulders were aching and he had a cramp in his right elbow from the sheer force he had to apply just to sink the massive spade into the earth. Near had joined in at some point, covering significantly less ground with his garden shovel, but it was better than having him stand around and watch. The sight of something spurred Mello on to continue digging until he felt as though his arms might fall off, but he could dislodge the object with his blade and retrieve it from the hole.
It was a box, presumably one that used to be white but had since been stained brown. Mello cleared off some of the dirt to reveal L’s insignia on the top. He uttered a long, relieved breath. Near shuffled forward and lifted the lid on his behalf, exposing the key inside. It was a standard-looking key; silver with a square-shaped head, and it looked to be in pristine condition. Mello took it out of the box to closely inspect it.
“This is definitely it.” He looked up at Near. “Let’s get this back to Roger.”
“Yes,” Near said.
Mello returned it to the box and closed the lid, cradling it in his arms like a royal baby as they trekked back up the hill towards the dorms. Mello’s stomach performed somersaults whilst they walked. The challenge hadn’t seemed all that difficult, but it felt like hours that they spent merely digging in search of the key. If they weren’t part of the top 3… Mello wasn’t sure that he’d be able to handle such an early defeat.
Roger was waiting for them at the top of the hill, and he greeted them with a stiff smile when he saw the box clutched in Mello’s hands.
“Congratulations, you two,” he said, opening the box to confirm that the key was still inside. “You’re the second to arrive.”
Mello's heart stuttered in his chest. Second… that was a word Mello was all too familiar with. He was suddenly feeling everything at once; relief, anger, stress, disappointment. Second place… Second in the ranks… Second-best… He and Near followed Roger to their assigned dorm, which he unlocked on their behalf and ushered them inside. Near entered immediately, whilst Mello hung back.
“Who was first?” he asked.
“Linda and Mimi.” Roger nodded to the adjacent dorm, where light was spilling from the windows, indicating the presence of people inside. “They arrived about five minutes before you.”
Mello grimaced. “How many points did they get?”
“Three points for first place. Two points for second. One point for third.” Roger sighed. “Don’t worry too much about it, Mello. Second place is good.”
Second place is good. Mello had heard that bullshit before. He regarded Roger one last time and decided that it wasn’t worth saying anything else. He collected the two bags from the veranda, including the pieces of Near’s robot that he had destroyed, and entered dormitory #9.