The Aves of Maria

Ut Roma Cadit, Sic Omnis Terra or "As Rome Falls, So Does The Whole World."
***

He didn't bother imagining what would happen if he got caught. What he was doing wasn't exactly uncommon, but it certainly wasn't legal. He knew that he wouldn't be found out. Not unless he wanted to be.

He hadn't been able to sleep. He hadn't even been able to write in the Death Note properly. He wasn't able to picture the criminals' faces in his mind; his head was overwhelmed with thoughts of Maria.

Sneaking out of the house had been pathetically easy and if his disappearance were noticed he would only have to lie. His disappearance wouldn't be noticed.

She knew she was being followed. Of course, she had no way of knowing it was Light that was trailing her, but she stopped at every street corner and looked back, paranoia obvious in the tenseness of her shoulders. Light drank in Maria's fear greedily; he got a strange sort of high seeing her dewy eyes. He envisioned what she would look like with her face full of terror and felt his nether regions stir.

'Kyrie eleison… Lord have mercy.'

He wanted her. No longer could he keep denying it. To everyone else, if asked, he would lie, but to himself Light could be nothing less than brutally honest. Wanted her sexually. Wanted her emotionally. It was a new feeling. He was no stranger to "romance;" he had gone through more than his fair share of flings and womanly encounters, had kissed, had groped, had sex, but this wasn't like that. All his relationships in the past had not had any emotion in them, save for what those girls thought they felt for him. He had gone on dates and rented rooms in Love Hotels because there was something for him to gain from them, whether it was sexual release or a complicated plot to make an FBI agent trailing him reveal his true identity.

The rush of blood he felt for Maria was different. He wanted her. Wanted to kiss her. Wanted to possess her. Wanted to bed her and not just once like he had the several other girls he'd slept with. She was the perfect woman for him, he decided.

Women his own age didn't interest him at all; they were too needy, to underdeveloped, too prone to flightiness when something or someone more interesting caught their eyes. They were interested in shiny magazines and glittering, effeminate-faced male pop singers and suggestive clothing. Light did not want a woman who insisted on bubble baths, matching clothing, afternoon picnics, and fancy restaurant proposals, hovering over his shoulder like a persistent mosquito that sucked his blood from his lips.

He wanted Maria. He had to have her. Unlike other women, she was experienced. She wouldn't coddle and coo at him. She wasn't a divorcee who was out looking for the passion that failed in her past relationship or a college graduate looking to experience mind-blowing orgasms and walks on a beach. She was the kind of woman who was looking for stability and reliability, not thrills.

Convincing Maria wouldn't be as simple as convincing one of his classmates to go out with him. She was twice his age, only eight or nine years younger than his mother, and a devout Christian. Courting her would be quite the challenge, but Light never was one to turn down even the most difficult task. He always came out on top.

He peeked over the edge of the fence in time to see her turn a corner and he counted to five before striding after her—after all, it wouldn't do for her to suddenly turn back hoping to catch her pursuer in the act, would it? He knew where she was headed now: the convenience store. No doubt she'd shuffled through her kitchen and discovered she had run out of one thing or another and decided to make a quick night errand of it instead of waiting until the sun rose.

How like her.

Maria went into a Nice convenience store; surprisingly the same Nice store that Light killed Shibuimaru Takuo in and confirmed the Death Note's otherworldly powers. It was beautifully ironic and had Light been a more religious or spiritual man he might even have called it fate. He didn't believe in fate, however, save for the destiny he made for himself.

He was God. Maria was meant to be his, because he decreed it so.

He followed her into the store, keeping a discreet distance until he could perfect his timing. As he reached for a bag of crisps his fingers brushed across hers and he quickly backed off, looking over at her in feigned surprise.

"Mashiro-san!"

Her eyes lit up. "Yagami-kun! I didn't expect to run into you here."

"Nor I you. What brings you out at this time of night?"

"I have a client to meet with early in the morning and just needed to grab a couple of things. You?"

The lie slid from his lips easily; the silken spinneret of a spider beckoning the butterfly into its web. "I have a test coming up. Late night studying, you know how it is. I realized that we had run out of my favorite chips and did not want to bother my mother with so menial a task."

She smiled brightly at him, causing his heart to skip a beat. "How nice! You know, I haven't met anyone else who likes Consommé flavored potato chips!"

"I know what you mean. My sister hates them and my mother and father aren't especially keen on them either. On the plus side, it means I do not have to share them, ne?"

"That's true," she giggled.

They chatted quietly and casually as she purchased snacks and tea. Light himself took the time to buy a bag of chips as well as an onigiri in order to remain unsuspicious. The exited the building with plastic bags in hand and chuckling at a joke he had made.

He smiled at her and nodded. "It was nice coming across you here. I should be heading home now. I guess I will see you around then, Mashiro-san." He began walking away.

"Oh, um, Yagami-kun?"

He paused and looked back at her. Her face was tight with nervousness.

"Would you…" she paused, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Yes?" Glee stirred in his abdomen. Had it been anyone else, he would have been sadistically amused at how easily she played into his hands.

"Would you mind escorting me home, Yagami-kun? I had the strangest feeling I was being followed on the way here."

But this wasn't anyone else, this was Maria, and what he would typically see as pathetic only endeared her to him further. She bent to his will so easily. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Of course, Mashiro-san. I would be glad to."

She sighed in relief. "Thank you. I feel so childish asking this of you, but I just…"

He grazed his hand against her forearm, prompting her to look up at him. "I do not think it is childish at all, Mashiro-san. I would be happy to walk you home and see to your safety."

"Thank you," she said again.

The two returned to walking, exchanging words as if they had never paused. Maria's eyes were bright in the darkness, like two candle flames. Though he responded accordingly to everything she said, he was only distantly aware of their conversation. His eyes roamed over her form when she wasn't looking, committing to memory the curve of her nose, the color in her cheeks. He wanted to devour her lips, which were the color of salmon. What would her mouth taste like, he wondered?

'Apples,' his mind supplied, 'Ambrosia apples*.'

He found himself wanting to brush his fingers against the inside of her wrist, perhaps even—his neck warmed—hold her hand. Damn her long sleeves! She always kept herself so thoroughly covered. What did her elbows look like, the back of her knees, or the hollow of her clavicle? He wondered if maybe she would invite him in for tea and he could be granted with a gleam of that ivory skin hidden under the cuff of her shirt, purple Tigris and Euphrates rivers twining just below the surface, framing Paradise.

He forced himself to ignore the hot tingle coiling around his groin.

She said something and laughed, prompting him to chuckle softly, though by this point he wasn't sure what he was laughing at. Her mirth trailed off into a warm sigh and she nudged her shoulder against him, still smiling.

"Thank you for escorting me home once again, Yagami-kun." She said, pulling to a stop.

Indeed they had already reached the gate of her home. Light hid his devastation. So soon! He should have realized how close she lived to the store, should have walked more slowly.

"You're welcome, Mashiro-san." He said.

"I always enjoy talking with you."

"I feel the same. With my peers these days it is always about movies or music or the latest fashion trends. Talking with you is like a breath of fresh air!"

She beamed, a fleeting twinkle of sunlight in the night. Light's heart thudded in his chest.

"You really are a sweet boy, Yagami-kun." She said, standing on tiptoe to peck him on the cheek. The world dissolved into static. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he heard himself say quietly, watching through hazy irises as the honey-haired woman went inside her house and left him standing on the street.

Knowing he had to move, Light lifted a hand to his cheek and walked away, his feet moving in quick, long strides. The world swirled around him in a blur of dark colors and shades. Under his fingertips his cheek burned, heat quickly spreading to the rest of his body. He staggered, and came to a pause, leaning against a concrete wall fencing an anonymous house.

He was breathing hard, his heart was pounding, and he could feel the fiery hot flush surrounding the apples of his cheeks. True, it was not the first time she had kissed him on the cheek, but he hadn't been aware of his feelings for her then, not like he was now. The contact with her, however minimal, was indescribably wonderful. And that was only a tiny taste of her sweetness! How much more powerfully would he react if her kiss were to grace his mouth? His ear? His neck? His…

Light closed his eyes and shivered; a hot, electric tingle that spread from the crown of his head downward. He drew his hand away from his cheek and shyly slid his fingers over his lips. He imagined that he could smell her on his sleeve, where her hand had grasped when she leaned up to him. She smelled like birds and tea and the Sakura-heavy air of springtime.

The hanami… that's right, she'd viewed the hanami earlier that day. The scent of cherry blossoms still lingered in her skin and in her clothing.

"Set me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death." He whispered to himself.

He hurried home and managed to sneak back into his room without incident. It took all his willpower not to slam the door behind him. He'd dropped his grocery bag somewhere back along the streets. He didn't notice or care.

Ryuk was waiting. "Yo, Light-kun…"

"Get out," The brunette man hissed.

The shinigami paused, somewhat taken aback. "Eh?"

"Get out of my room," Light repeated, "Spy on the neighbors, eat the bowl of apples downstairs, I don't care. Leave me alone for a while."

Ryuk was gone as soon as Light told him the location the apples. Light locked his door and lied on his bed. His mother would no doubt wonder what happened to the half dozen apples when they vanished overnight, but Light wasn't concerned about that in the least.

Rolling onto his back he loosened his pants and boxers, shoving them down his legs. He gasped as his throbbing, reddening member was freed from the confines of clothing, proudly standing erect and weeping with a desire so strong it was almost painful. Warmth, fingerlike, curled outward from his sternum across his ribs and down his back, making his fingers and knees tremble minutely.

He reached down tentatively and touched himself. His head instantly filled with images of Maria's angelic face. He groaned, remembering the gold of her hair—what would it look like free from it's usual bun?—and the pinkness of her lips—he remembered how she slurped noodles off her chopsticks, pouty and alluring—the crucifix dimpling the cloth covering her breasts—a rich valley separating two holy peaks. She was so beautiful, so pure. He remembered the smile he had seen on her face when she was with Akito and later showed to him when he had walked her home, a smile like moonlight.

He ached for her, his arms felt empty, his mouth yearning. As he stroked his pulsing phallus, the head dripped pearls.

She raised doves. It was so ironic, so like her. It suited her so perfectly. The image of her came unbidden: with a pair of columbine-white wings perched between her shoulder blades and crowned with a halo the same golden shade as her hair as her eyes sparkled with the same nervous fear he had seen earlier. He was pushed over the edge of bliss.

He stained the carpet with the seeds of passion.

Light lay back on his bed—when had he sat up?—and panted for several moments, reining in his emotions. The fringes of his hair tickled his cheekbones and a thin sheen of perspiration coated his skin and made him shiver as he felt coolness of the air tenfold.

"Maria," he whispered to himself, "You are like… no, you are an angel. And I am God. Angels live to serve God. That makes you mine. Whether you know it yet or not."