The Aves of Maria

Alea Iacta Est or "The Die Have Been Cast."
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Yagami Light was an atheist.

He hesitated to trust something that couldn't be proven and shown to his eyes from a young age. He wanted to know how things worked; and if his parents. or anyone else, failed to take a watch apart and show him the gears, he'd either figure it out himself or simply not bother to study it. Religion had always been one of those things that he tried figuring out on his own, but eventually gave up on.

He didn't like the contradictions, the unknown variables, and logic-defying incidents. He wouldn't accept that there were some things that couldn't be explained in terms that made sense to the human mind. If it was impossible it was impossible; water-walking messiahs and bathroom-licking demons be damned. Nevertheless, that didn't stop his family from pursuing their religious beliefs. An average Japanese family: a bit Shinto, a bit Buddhist, and just Christian enough to celebrate a romantic parody of Christmas.

Light's mother, Sachiko, leaned toward Christianity enough to drag the family of four to church every Sunday—at least she had during Sayu's and Light's childhoods. As they got older, the weekly ritual had grown sparse.

Until Yagami Soichiro's heart attack, at least.

Now, the Sunday tradition was back. Whether it was a temporary or permanent fixation, Light wasn't sure; but, he wasn't about to tell his mother that he didn't want to go—his father had given them a serious scare with that heart attack. For a moment even he'd been terrified it was an attack from a copycat Kira.

So here he sat, head politely bowed as his sister fidgeted and his mother listened tearfully to the words of the priest. The wooden bench pressed into his back in the most uncomfortable way, and he noted, somewhat morbidly, that the carpet was the color of old blood: a deep, brownish maroon. He was uncomfortable inside the holy building; he fought down bubbles of anger at the priest's words.

'Wrong. Wrong. You are so wrong, so blind. There is no God but Kira. I am God, you fool.'

Of course, it was no fault of the priest's; the poor man was just misguided— something that would be remedied soon enough, with the coming of the New World. Still, Light's fingernails dug into his palm.

He was brought out of his musings when Sachiko placed a hand on his forearm, her eyes shimmering with understanding—not that she actually understood; more likely than not, she thought he was thinking about what a bastard Kira was for putting his father in such danger, or something along those lines. He turned his attention back to the priest.

"…Amen. I would like you all to spare a prayer for the family of Yagami Soichiro, who recently suffered a heart attack," here the entire room gasped, "And could not be with us today, as he is recovering in the hospital. Yagami-san, as many of you may know, is an officer of the NPA, a brave and valiant officer…"

Light tuned the man out again, not interested in hearing the praises sung. The foot his father had in the grave was no doubt trying to spin madly—he had always been a humble man.

It was then, with the entire church staring at the Yagami family with open-mouthed pity, that he noticed her. He had seen her before, as a child. She had never stood out to him before now; she had just been another adult. However, now… now he had a difficult time looking away.

She was, painfully stereotypically, blond, but naturally blonde. A shimmering shade of pale gold that went all the way to her roots, to her eyebrows, to her long, delicate eyelashes. Her yellow tresses were braided, piled on the top of her head in a Western fashion. Her skin was almost as pale as L's, but by no means looked unhealthy, especially given the rosy apple hue of her cheeks. Despite the foreign coloring of her hair, her features were Japanese: single-eyelid, petite nose, full sushi lips, and oval face—perhaps a half-blood? Her irises were a warm, inviting brown; her demeanor radiating kindness, softness, loveliness—she was perfectly angelic. Even her blouse was a perfect, unblemished white.

Of their own accord, his eyes searched for a golden halo or a pair of snowy wings.

'Holy Virgin, Mary, full of Grace…'

He sucked in breath sharply as his younger sister's elbow pressed into his ribs. Suppressing a full-blown scowl he glared at his sibling, who made a small show of leaning away from him with a mischievous glitter in her eyes.

Rubbing away the tingle her touch had left behind, he looked back toward the woman he had seen. Absently, his mind registered the fact that people were getting up and leaving their seats, heading either for the exit or to offer their condolences to the Yagami family. The sermon was over.

She was among the crowd surrounding Sachiko. A golden cross lay heavily on her breast.

Composing himself, Light stood, urging Sayu to follow with a firm hand on her shoulder. The individuals came up in small clusters, bowing deeply, muttering empty, pathetic promises of kinship, tears in their eyes.

Light's mother was dry-eyed. She had cried her heart out for the first few days, but thankfully, was past the stage where she constantly wiped her eyes from worry.

"Oh, Sachiko-san, you must have been so devastated! Poor Soichiro-san, he's not old enough for a heart attack, he's not even fifty yet!" Someone crowed. Light continued to wear the mask of the perfect son.

The golden-haired woman was one of the last to step forward, and Light was relieved to see that her face was not overflowing with pity. She smiled warmly—Light felt his chest seize—and placed a hand on Sachiko's shoulder.

"Sachiko-san, if you are ever in need of anything my door is open to you. Even if you just don't feel like cooking one evening. In fact, I insist you come over for tea. It can just be us ladies or you're welcome to bring your lovely children."

Sachiko smiled back; weakly, but honestly.

"Ah, thank you so much, Maria-san. I believe I shall take you up on that offer. I could do with some 'girl time.' We could even arrange a small potluck lunch or something, ne?"

"Of course. You know me, I'm always looking for things to fill up my day." Her attention diverted toward the two young Yagami's. "You must be Yagami-san's children, ne? What are your names?"

Light bowed. "I am Yagami Light. This is my younger sister, Sayu."

She nodded. "Lovely to meet you, Yagami-kun, Yagami-chan. I am Mashiro Maria."

'Beata Maria…'

She continued. "'Light' is an unusual name, isn't that English? How on earth do you spell it?"

"It is written as 'tsuki,' Mashiro-san."

"How interesting. So 'light' is really more of a nickname, then?"

"Yes, something like that." He was surprised and pleased at the woman's perceptiveness. Few people realized that his birth certificate did not read "Yagami Raito." Light his name may have been, but new teachers always asked for Yagami Tsuki. There was no "Raito" in the phone books or enlisted in To-Oh. He did not sign his name with the katakana that made up "Raito;" they were signed Yagami Tsuki.

It was amazing how stupid other people were. He even doubted that the Death Note would work if someone decided to write "Yagami Raito" or "Yagami Light" in it. No, he was sure only "Tsuki," would work.

Maria, oblivious to his thoughts, continued. "My heart goes out to you and Soichiro-san. A heart attack during these times, you must have been terrified it was Kira!"

The elderly woman talking to Sachiko emitted a small shriek and swooned.

"Mashiro-san, please! Don't speak that name in here!" The woman's husband spoke in a harsh whisper.

Maria placed her hand to her mouth, looking apologetic. "Forgive me, Yukimaru-san, I didn't realize you were there. I know how much that person frightens your dear wife."

Said frightened woman looked as if she were about to faint. Light raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"I'll help you to your car, Yukimaru-san. Sachiko, give me a call when you'd like to get together, or even if you just want an ear to talk to, all right? Here's my business card, my home number is on it. I'm available any time."

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