YURI SHIPPING OLYMPICS 2024 - BONUS ROUND 7

[a1c0bb]

For this round, we want to see prompts that are based on settings or locations! For your prompts, please provide a location or setting. It can be as specific or as abstract as you want, and can be in any medium you prefer!

POINTS - BONUS ROUNDS
For prompts: 10 points each (maximum of 150 prompt points per team per round)
For fills:
First 4 fills by any member of your team: 100 points each
Fills 5-10: 50 points each
Fills 11-20: 40 points each
Fills 21-50: 30 points each
Fills 51+: 25 points each

Comments

FILL: TEAM ACE ATTORNEY

[ghostvines]

Light wakes up in the middle of the night.

She never used to do this before. Before the Kira investigation, before her imprisonment, before L. She’s pretty sure she’d been staying up later than usual in the last few weeks preceding solitary confinement, but she doesn’t even remember what she was doing with that time.

…Being Kira?

No, Light reminds herself. No. She can’t buy into L’s insane conspiracy theories. Light Yagami is not Kira, because Light Yagami is a good person. Light Yagami is a good son.

Well, no. She’d been wrong about that, about the son part, and now her father can barely look her in the eye.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Light will catch Kira, and then Dad will be proud of her again.

She’s a good person. She has to be.

“Light-chan?”

Light freezes. Then she very gingerly lies back down. The handcuff chain does not clink.

“I know you’re awake, Light-chan,” L says. Light glances over, can’t help it, and is met with the sight of L hunched over typing at her computer terminal. The bluish glow of the screen makes L look a little like a ghost, like if Light reached for her, her hand would pass straight through. “You’re breathing differently.”

“That’s kind of creepy, Ryuzaki.”

“I’m not wrong,” L counters.

“What are you doing?” Light asks, vision focusing as her eyes adjust. Now she can see the strands of L’s hair spiking away from her head. “It can’t be the Kira case.”

“I’m just playing 2048.”

“No you’re not.” Light can clearly see blocks of condensed text moving on L’s screen. “Is that — a different case? How many investigations are you in?”

“Not enough,” L says. “Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t. I’m making conversation.” God, why does L have to make normal interactions so difficult? “What’s it about?”

“Copycat murders,” L says. She stretches, cracking her neck to one side and then the other. Light watches the fabric of L’s T-shirt bunch around her shoulders. “And the perpetrator could not more clearly be the wife of the person their department suspects.” She makes a gesture that reads, can’t believe I’m helping these fucking idiots. (Light has gotten very good at reading L’s gestures.) “I’m correcting them.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you helping?”

“That’s a strange question to ask, Light-chan,” L says, and finally, finally turns around to look at her. Light, caught in her spotlight gaze, sits up at attention without even really meaning to. “Don’t the good guys always win?”

“You put me in a cell for fifty days and then made my father pretend to shoot me.”

“I don’t see your point.”

“I’m just saying, Ryuzaki,” Light says, trying to sound as casual as she can. It’s a more difficult task when she’s sleep-deprived. “I don’t think most people would class you as a good guy.”

L shrugs. “I get the job done. Would you consider yourself a ‘good guy,’ Light-chan?”

Light opens her mouth, then closes it.

The obvious answer is yes, but claiming that without a shred of hesitation would imply moral superiority, which L would take to mean she’s Kira (never mind the fact that obviously Light is morally superior to L, she hasn’t manipulated anyone into going on suicide missions for one thing); but saying no would amount to a confession that she’s a villain, which she isn’t. Because Light Yagami is a good s— a good person.

She has to be. She has to.

“I think we’re all just trying as hard as we can at the end of the day,” Light answers. Her heart is somewhere in her throat. “I’ve definitely messed up really badly once or twice, but what matters is that we keep trying to be good, right?”

L stares at her.

What? What did Light say wrong? That was a perfect answer, wasn’t it?

Why does L look — disappointed?

“I see,” L says at last. “Light-chan is an optimist.”

“Of course,” Light says. “I wouldn’t still be working on this case otherwise.”

L nods to herself.

“Go back to sleep, Light-chan,” she says, turning back to the screen. “Don’t let me keep you.”

…

“Okay,” Light mumbles, lying back down. She curls herself in the direction of L. The image of her, a dark silhouette against a blue-white square, lingers even after Light closes her eyes.

As she drifts off to sleep, it occurs to her that L never bothered answering her question.

We keep trying to be good.

Right?