Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

Happy Birthday, recipe for insanity! With birthday hugs and cake – and here is a huge fic to celebrate the auspicious date! It got a little bit out of hand, so this is the first chapter and I’ll be posting the rest later today and over the weekend. A bit like having three birthdays. Which is even more than the Queen gets! XD

Thanks immensely to kitsune55 for beta-reading this at the last minute after I changed my mind about the plot.

And for those who are waiting for Two Birds, One Stone – I’ll post some more of that as soon as I finish posting this.

Quote is from As You Like It.

SPOILERS – It’s an AU, so nothing much.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Death Note or its characters.

Raito stepped out of the cab and took a deep breath. He smiled as the doorman hurried down to help him with his luggage. Retaining the bag that contained his laptop and certain other useful items for the undercover detective, he followed the man up the steps towards the hotel doors.

“Get out of here, you!” The doorman had stopped, suitcase in hand, to berate a ragged-looking man, who sat playing a guitar on the hotel steps, a battered old hat in front of him, the moonlight making his pale face shine as if reflecting the planetary satellite.

The man flashed his aggressor a look of distaste, but obediently ceased playing and picked up his hat, before shuffling down the steps past Raito. The detective was rather sorry to see him go. The music had been quite good, certainly better than what he could hear slushing out from the hotel foyer as the door was opened for him.

On impulse he turned.

“Wait!” he called, striding down the steps after the stooped figure of the busker.

The man turned, fixing Raito with a wide-eyed stare. Very wide-eyed. Raito blinked as he was subjected to the most intense scrutiny he’d ever experienced from another human being.

“Um…” Raito paused, groping inside his jacket, pulling out his wallet and removing a note. “Uh…” He scowled, finding that words had completely deserted him for some reason and held out the cash.

“That’s very kind of you.” The man took the money and disappeared it into his clothes, his eyes still fixed on Raito with that disturbing concentration. A smile crept across his lips. It was wide and creepy and suited him perfectly. “And before you feel you have to tell me not to spend it on drink, I don’t intend to.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Raito protested. “I don’t care what you spend it on. It’s for the music. I mean, plenty of people get up on stage and play music and no doubt they all spend a lot of what they earn on alcohol. Or drugs. You’re not going to spend it on drugs, are you?”

“I can assure you, that is the last thing I would waste my money on, uh…?”

“Yagami Raito.” Raito, realising his name was being requested, supplied it, then wondered why the hell he was politely introducing himself to some shaggy-haired homeless man.

“You may call me Ryuuzaki,” the man offered, as he turned and shambled away towards an alley that ran down the side of the hotel.

“So – what will you spend it on?” Raito had the strangest desire not to let the man go.

Ryuuzaki turned and gave the young detective another of his odd, goblinesque smiles. “Cake, Yagami-kun,” he said and then was gone.

“Cake?” Raito muttered, staring at the empty space where the man had been. “All on cake? A haircut might be a better idea. Or some clean clothes. Cake, indeed.”

He shrugged and turned away. What an odd encounter. So odd, that just for a moment, it had completely driven out of his mind the reasons for his being here. But they all returned in full force as he picked up his key at the reception desk and was taken to his room.

“Thank you, Nakamura-san,” the bellhop smiled at the tip he was given and left.

“You’re welcome,” Raito belatedly replied. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he’d even forgotten his alias and omitted to answer to it.

And damn! I gave my real name to that homeless man! Why the fuck did I do that? Not that it really matters. Unless – he’s not really a homeless man. Perhaps he’s one of M’s agents, just standing around there to see who goes in and out? No… if that was the case, the doorman’d know to leave him alone. Unless – stop it Raito! You’re thinking too much!

He sighed and began to unpack. The suit Mr. Nakamura had worn had its pockets emptied and was hung reverentially in a closet, with a care that was tribute to its designer label. Instead, Raito dressed himself in plain black slacks and a rather baggy v-neck, also black. It wasn’t going to help him, since the hotel was flooded with artificial light, but it made him feel better.

The young detective set up his laptop and took out his pistol from the depths of its bag. He’d elected to carry it separately, reckoning that anyone who worked for M would know exactly what shape a shoulder holster made under a suit jacket. He checked that the safety was on and slid the holster over the back of his belt under the long top. Craning his neck in front of the closet’s full-length mirror, he decided there was a slight bulge and slipped on a black shirt over his ensemble, leaving it open.

Next he turned to the contents of his pockets, sorting out the loose change and placing it on the bedside table. He didn’t want a pocketful of jingly metal giving him away if he had to sneak up on someone. Picking up his phone, he speed-dialled.

“Matsuda?” The voice on the other end held a tone that suggested the man wasn’t quite sure of his own identity. Raito wasn’t surprised.

“It’s me, Matsuda. Who did you think it was?”

“Um…”

“Nobody else has this number, do they? I told you when I bought these phones –”

“No, Yagami-kun, I haven’t given it to anyone. As you said.”

“Good,” Raito said. “Because the last thing either of us wants is our phones ringing at some moment when we’re trying to be quiet.”

“Are you in the hotel now?” Matsuda enquired.

“Yes, no problems. I’m going to start with the basement and work my way up.”

“But Yagami-kun – that’s what I don’t understand. I can understand M kidnapping your sister to ensure you don’t pursue the case against him, but how are you going to search the whole of his hotel to find her? And how do you even know she’s being kept there?”

“I don’t have to search the whole place,” Raito explained patiently. It was about time he brought Matsuda up to speed on his plan. Not that it was much of a plan, more of a reaction after he’d received the message from M to back off the case. “I have a laptop here full of pictures of his men. All I need to do is find one of them and question him.”

“Question?” Matsuda sounded doubtful. “You mean – you know, Yagami-kun, that’s probably not going to be strictly legal.”

“Since I’m not here officially, that doesn’t really matter,” Raito said. “Look, Matsuda, I appreciate you helping me with this, but you do realise that you could be in a lot of trouble for it? I’m probably going to have to do some things – well, things I wouldn’t do if I’d been sent here by the NPA. If you want to back out, I won’t think any the worse –”

“No, Yagami-kun!” A note of offended pride had crept into the other man’s voice. “I said I’d help you and I will. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, we could die. Or lose our jobs.”

“Exactly! But it’s Sayu-san – it’s worth it.”

“Thanks,” Raito said. “Okay, I’m going to call you again in an hour. If I don’t, give me about fifteen minutes, in case I’m in the middle of something. Then you’ll have to go to my dad and tell him what’s happened.”

“No problem, Yagami-kun.”

“And don’t call me. I’ll call you. Even if I can’t say anything, I’ll call, just to let you know I’m still alive. But if I don’t say anything, don’t you say anything either, because it might mean I’m somewhere that people could hear it.”

“Yagami-kun, I’ve been a police officer for longer than you,” Matsuda said. “I think I know how to conduct a surreptitious phone conversation.”

“Yes,” Raito said. “Sorry. I’m just nervous about this.”

“Don’t worry,” Matsuda said, reassuringly. “We’ll get her back. And arrest M too! Imagine that in the newspapers! He’ll be sorry he ever moved his operation to Japan!”

Raito agreed, then disconnected. He knew, better than Matsuda seemed to realise, that their chances of getting away with this were very low. He’d thought about involving the NPA in the projected recovery of his kidnapped sister; but the untraceable email he’d received, telling him of her abduction, had categorically stated that she would be killed if he did that.

Working on the premise that, if M had information about the progress of Raito’s case about him, he had spies inside the NPA itself, Raito had decided to go it alone, telling nobody but Matsuda what he was doing. And him only because he needed a backup in case things went horribly wrong.

Deciding that the shirt he was wearing could conceal a few more things, Raito added handcuffs, pepper spray and brass knuckles to various pockets about his person, then rolled up his pants, strapping a spare pistol to one leg and pushing a set of lockpicks down the other sock.

Confident that he was as well equipped as he could be without looking too obvious, he set off downwards to the basement, taking the stairs rather than the lift in order to be less noticeable.

He slipped through a door on the ground floor labelled ‘Private.’ Having committed the hotel’s blueprints to memory, he knew that was the way to the stairs leading to the basement.

Once down there, he brought a picture of its layout into his mind and began to search. Most of it was exactly what you’d expect in a hotel, boiler room, storage space, wine cellar; what interested the young detective were the unexplained spaces, the rooms that seemed to have no purpose.

He tensed as he heard voices from somewhere. Was this M’s lair? Creeping closer to the source of the sound, he thought about what he knew of the ex-Mafia, now freelance crime boss. M was said to be one of the most intelligent men on the planet – probably by himself, Raito thought sourly. As one of the most intelligent men on the planet himself, he took other people’s claims in that direction with a pinch of salt.

He knew from personal experience of cases involving the man that he was certainly clever. Ruthless, violent and with remarkable computer skills, whether his own or one of his followers. He seemed to be able to get into any system, lay it bare and leave mocking messages to let his victims know he’d been there.

Nobody knew his name, either. He was just known as M – despite Raito’s considerable hacking skills, he had been unable to identify the man’s real identity or even where he’d come from. Which gave him a grudging respect for the man’s abilities, but didn’t help him much in bringing him to justice.

He came to the corner of the corridor and listened. Yes, muffled voices from around there. Someone talking quite loudly and other voices answering as if in agreement. That sounded hopeful.

He pulled out his pistol and rounded the corner, then stopped in amazement. At the other end of the short corridor, coming around the opposite corner, was a man. A familiar man, holding what looked like an NYPD issue Glock.

“You?” Raito forgot to be quiet. “What –”

“Shhh!” The supposed homeless man, Ryuuzaki, placed the finger of his free hand to his lips. But it was already too late.

Doors burst open all along the corridor and Raito, reckoning his small amount of firepower wasn’t much use against the machine pistols that were trained on him and the other man, bit his lip and raised his hands.

“Drop your weapons.” The speaker was a blond man, shorter than Raito, with a feminine cast of features. He was wearing clothes Raito had only seen before on street corners in the seamier side of town. Not a vegan, Raito decided, taking in the preponderance of skin-tight leather.

Raito glared at the younger man as he let his gun fall to the floor, where it was picked up by another strangely dressed individual. He was red-haired, wearing a striped t-shirt, jeans and, oddly, goggles.

“It seems we have got ourselves caught, Yagami-kun,” Ryuuzaki remarked, conversationally, as he was herded up the corridor toward the auburn-haired detective.

“That’s not my name!” Raito hissed, but too late. The aggressive-looking blond’s attention focused on him.

“Not Nakamura?” He waved his gun under Raito’s nose. “I’m not surprised. You don’t look much of a hero.”

“I beg your pardon?” Raito drew himself up to his full height and sneered down at the younger man.

“You look a bit too girly to be heroic,” the blond commented.

Raito couldn’t help it. He knew it wasn’t the wisest thing to do in the circumstances. In fact, if there had been a scale of 1-10 of things you shouldn’t do when someone’s waving a gun in your face, what he did next had to be somewhere around minus eleven. He laughed.

“What’s funny?” The blond took a step nearer and Raito started to wonder if he was close enough to grab.

“You. Calling me girly,” he said.

“He’s trying to get you angry, M,” the speaker was the young man in goggles. “So he can grab you. And your gun.”

“I’m not stupid, Matt!” the blond hissed, glaring into Raito’s face. “He’ll find my gun up his butt any minute now! Not that he probably won’t enjoy it!”

Raito didn’t reply, too stunned by the revelation that this – this short, pretty man in hookerwear was – M?

“Please do not attempt to perform any penetrative actions upon Yagami-kun’s posterior.” Ryuuzaki’s deep, smooth voice broke the silence. “That task belongs to me alone.”

“What?” Matt and M’s heads swivelled in perfect unison toward the shabby, raven-haired man.

“Is he your, your boyfriend?” Matt asked, voice a little unsteady.

“Of course not,” Ryuuzaki replied. “You know my circumstances. I have no interest in any kind of permanent relationship. I merely find him attractive and wish to enjoy his naked company at some point.”

“What?” It was Raito’s turn to exclaim bewilderment. “You what? But – we only just met!”

“There is no need for Yagami-kun to lead me on with cute virginal wiles.” Ryuuzaki gave the young detective one of his creepy grins. “I am aware that he finds me irresistible and cannot wait to fall into my bed and give up his –”

“You’re mad!” Raito burst out. “You’re completely insane! What the hell could have ever given you such an idea?”

“And what are you doing here, anyway?” The blond turned his eyes on Raito’s disheveled co-captive.

“I have a proposition for you,” Ryuuzaki said as easily as if they were taking tea together on the lawn, rather than standing in a hotel basement with a disturbingly large amount of guns pointing at his head.

“I’m not interested.”

“You might be, when you hear it.”

“Yeah. I mean no.” M paused, regarding the man with a quizzical expression. “It’s not like you – and you sent N. You must’ve known I wouldn’t talk to him.”

“I thought you might put away your differences,” Ryuuzaki said. “Apparently, I was wrong. So I decided to present my case in person.”

“Not a good idea,” Matt commented.

“I’ll talk to you later,” M decided. “I’m a bit busy right now.”

“What about my sister?” Raito demanded, having given up on pretending to be anyone other than who he really was. “Where is she? Have you hurt her?”

“I don’t go around hurting cute, defenseless young women.” M looked rather offended at the idea. “She’s fine. And she’ll stay fine. I’m not so sure about you.”

“There’s a van out back,” Matt told the assembled men. “Take them away. You know where. I’ll be there in a while to deal with them.”

“Deal with us?” Raito demanded, not liking the sound of that at all.

Is he planning to kill us? And who the hell is N? Don’t any of these people have full names?

“And since they’re so fond of each other,” M suggested, ignoring Raito’s question, “make sure you lock them up in the same room.”