I didn't know you read Mill's and Boon..

If you don't understand Death Note, this may seem a little random, though hopefully you will still be able to enjoy it anyway ^^




He sits in the chair, thumb in his mouth and plate of cheesecake in his hand.
Twirling a polished silver fork, plump strawberry on the end, he rifles through the overfull pad of paper.

“Hmmm…” he murmurs. “It would appear there is a 99.2% chance this story was over the word limit and edited several times.”

Slowly the young detective slips a sheet of paper from the file while an elderly butler enters the room. The butler is pushing a trolley with a dish in the centre - it’s contents hidden by a silver lid large enough to shield a large turkey. Lifting the lid, there is only a plateful of gummy bears and several sugar cubes.

“Ryuzaaki, sir,” the butler addresses. “I brought your…”

But he is interrupted, for the detective leaps from his chair and peers deeply into his face - the sheet of paper tightly gripped between finger and thumb.

“Watari,” he says, lifting it until the small type is centimetres from both of their faces. “I have made an important breakthrough.”

Taking a sugar cube from the plate and crunching the grains, he shows the paper to Watari.

“The use of themes in this story indicate unrequited love,” he explains.

Watari is confused, his old face cannot disguise it.

“But…what does this mean, sir?”

Ryuzaaki turns and sits back in his chair, knees close to his chest and thumb tight in in his mouth. He considers an answer for some four and a half minutes.

“It means, Watari that considerable research was undertaken,” he states.

Lifting up the paper so it is in clear sight, Ryuzaaki scans a number of scribbles he has made on the paper.

“This story shows the same characteristics as many other romance stories of its kind - it is written in the third person and speaks of a love letter,” he explains. “I understand love letters are quite popular in romance fiction.”

First a face of confusion, now Watari’s face is a picture of shock.
“I did not know you read Mill’s and Boon, Ryuzaaki sir,” he comments, but gets no reply.

Lifting the plate of gummy bears, he hands it to Ryuzaaki, who takes one and chews thoughtfully.

“I feel I could understand the mind of this deviant better if it were Mill’s and
Boon,” he comments. “This story concludes in none of the regular ways. In normal romantic fiction the hero and the heroine fall in love at the end.”

His words are laced with a formation of gummy bears, shaped like a courting couple.

“And in this story…they do not?” questions Watari. He undoubtedly knows the answer all ready - but also knows that questions are the best form of developing genius.

“No,” mutters Ryuzaaki, gently laying his thumb on his bottom lip. “The heroine is rejected, for the love of another.”

Watari takes the story from Ryuzaaki and scans the paper himself. Perhaps there is a further clue - something they have missed.

“Perhaps the writer has no affection for love stories,” he suggests.

Ryuzaaki says nothing for a while and instead picks up the courting couple scene that he made, devouring the pair.

“I cannot help but wonder, Watari,” he finally says. “Why the writer chose to omit the text of the love letter. It is central to the story.”

As if in reply to this question, Watari scans the text closely. There is a hidden message there, he knows it. A message that he cannot see.

“Perhaps the writer believed the letter was not central to the text and in fact it was the effect of the note that was central,” he suggests, pointing to the end of the page. “See…it is the idea of the note as an object that causes the conclusion, rather than what is written.”

Glancing over at Ryuzaaki, he gasps inwardly; the panda faced detective has spent the interlude building a tower of sugar cubes.

“You may be right, Watari,” he answers, peering from behind. “Though I am not quite sure how it relates to the second piece of evidence.”

Watari has not been informed of this so it is new to him. Ryuzaaki also knows this, but he is too far gone in contemplation to worry.

“This poem confuses me,” he says, taking a second sheet of paper from the file and passing it to Watari, who glances over the type.

“How so, sir?” he asks, taking in the images and looking back to the detective. Ryuzaaki is chewing a stick of pocky and thoughtfully staring into space.
“This poem also speaks of unrequited love, but there is no narrator - the person speaking cannot obtain affection from a loved one because of their ambiguous nature,” he murmurs, pocky crumbs dropping to his knees. “This poem is titled ‘The Muse’s Song’ so the narrative speaker is more than likely intended to be a ghostlike creature. Perhaps the two pieces are linked.”

Watari looks back at the poem and wonders what kind of individual would write such a piece. A mad one, undoubtedly.

Taking hold of the trolley once more, he rolls out of the room - partly to ponder the circumstances of the evidence, but also to fetch Master Ryuzaaki more cheesecake. Ryuzaaki does not notice this.
“That must be it,” he mutters. “The poem must be the missing love letter, the heroine’s missing words.”

The crumbs from Ryuzaaki’s lap now sit upon a small coffee table in front, moulded into the shape of the Eiffel Tower. Hugging his knees against his chest, he stares at the keypad of a telephone on the wall, pondering the case over and over.
“Hmmmm…” he whispers, rocking slightly in his swivel chair. “My suspicions of this writer are now 99.5%.”