The One I Love

Death Note © Tsugumi Ohba & Takeshi Obata

He is a murderer, Stephen Gevanni says sternly to himself. He is a crazy murderer who only really cares about his crazy ideals. This isn't quite true, because he knows for a fact that Teru Mikami also likes history, computers, old movies and classical music; Gevanni just needs a reason to quit thinking about him, and this one is good enough. It doesn't work, of course, but at least it's somewhat logical. Gevanni's emotions, however, are not logical at all. They practically spit on logic and dance on its lonely grave.

Gevanni was the one who handcuffed Mikami in the YB warehouse, and now he cannot drive the vision of Mikami's small, pale hands and bony wrists out of his mind. It's almost funny – they weren't any more sexy or fascinating than Halle Lidner's beautiful fingers, but he felt an unmistakable pang of guilt when he grabbed them and Mikami didn't even resist too much, possibly out of sheer desperation. Lidner never makes him feel this way, and Gevanni despises himself for that, because Lidner is a fantastic woman and Mikami is a serial killer – and a man. That just might be the worst part, Gevanni laughs bitterly.

Mikami's fate is still largely undecided – Japanese laws don't really say anything about death gods and their notebooks; Gevanni supposes that he is likely to spend the rest of his days in the psychiatric ward, since there are no doubts about his mental instability. You don't need to be a professional in order to tell that. The exact diagnosis may be a bit hard to nail down, though, if you don't remember the specific terms, so Gevanni simply defines it as goddam psycho. Right now Mikami is being held in some local jail, and apparently he is a very quiet prisoner who doesn't cause any problems, ironic as it may sound to someone who has seen him in all his maniacal glory. He looks horribly depressed, yes, and his demonstrative reticence creeps some people out, but he doesn't howl or bang his head against the wall. His type of insanity is actually kind of pleasant as long as he doesn't have the Death Note. Gevanni chuckles again. Pleasant. Right. The guy tried to kill you, Stephen, and you find him rather pleasant. Perhaps you are just as screwed, if not even worse. Mikami has his own interesting quirks and unique priorities, but he definitely doesn't fancy his enemies. Good for him.

"Look, Gevanni…" Commander Anthony Rester puts his coffee cup down. "Mikami will get… oh, I don't know. Some treatment? He'll be fine." Being perfectly straight and honest, Rester doesn't have any unhealthy suspicions about Gevanni. "Look. Stop blaming yourself already. The guy's obviously sick, okay, too bad. It's just – simply because you've been following him around and all – it's not your fault, get that?"

"I know," Gevanni replies. "I – I know."

"Okay?" Rester repeats. "I mean, we had to stop him somehow."

Gevanni stands up. "I know." He looks out of the window: the weather is uncomfortably sunny. "He was so… clean and punctual. That weirded me out. I guess."

"Yeah," Rester agrees. "Me too. Neat freaks. For God's sake."

Gevanni nods, wraps his scarf around his neck and walks out. He needs to clear his head a little and fresh air might prove useful. Not that modern Japan has a lot of fresh air, no; it's merely an excuse that requires no explanations. Teru Mikami, the ex-prosecutor of West Kyoto and Kira's number one supporter, has died in prison some five minutes ago, but Gevanni is not aware of that yet, so it doesn't hurt. Not too much. Not yet.