𝙸𝙸 - π™Ώπš˜πšœπš-π™Όπš˜πš›πšπšŽπš–

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H.H.S.A Guidebook for New Inhabitants
Originally published in  803 A.D by V. Atticus
Edition 34
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2. Inhabitants of the Halfway House are unable to 'die' by any means, as their bodies are completely self-sufficient. You will continue to exist until the anomaly in your soul is repaired. At that time, your physical form will Crumble and you will proceed to the full afterlife.

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β˜₯ β˜₯ β˜₯

[ ( L ) Day 1, AD ]

I was staring daggers at the back of L's head as he peered through the second story windows at the misty world below.

"Wow... this place is fascinating. Beautiful, really."

Choosing to ignore his banal statement, I continued down the hall without looking to see if he was following. I was still reeling with shock, and couldn't look at him in the face just yet.

The world outside of the Halfway House has always put me ill at ease. The world beneath it's powdery blue skies evokes a feeling of cold uneasiness that sinks deep into my core. As far as the eye could see was a vast, endless forest of evergreen trees coated by fog. Covering the ground, stretching far past the horizon. On its own this would be pretty unremarkable, were it not for the daffodils. Sprouting up everywhere were unnaturally large yellow flowers taller than the evergreens, with spiralling stems as large and thick as a pipe. They're meant to symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, something that doesn't match at all with the eerie feeling they give off. A feeling not unlike the kind I got from being with L.

Normally I wouldn't be giving a new Inhabitant a tour so quickly after their own death, but L's obviously no normal Inhabitant. Not to me, at least. The patience and understanding I'd usually give newcomers was gone, and I all I wanted was for this to be over with as soon as possible. If he really was so great, he could handle the shock. Besides, I figured that his manquΓ© giving him the cold shoulder was the least of his worries right now.

I've come to the conclusion that I hate L. His attitude and lack of acknowledgement for my identity as A felt humiliating. Shouldn't he show some more remorse in the presence of someone who was driven to suicide because of his institution's cruelty? Shameless. That's what he was, I decided.

He may have only been seventeen or eighteen, but it wasn't as if he had no power. He was regarded as an adult, just like me.
I met him once when I was alive, a few months before my suicide. He'd told me that at my rate, I'd never reach his level. That I lacked drive. And now I have to escort him into the afterlife as well? It was nothing less than insulting.

The footsteps behind me stopped. I looked back, and he was staring out of a large window with wide, luminous eyes.

Out of nowhere he asked,
"What were to happen if I jumped out of the window?"
"You can't." I replied flatly. "Even if you were able to break the glass or walls, they'd re-form before you could jump."

"Really? That's interesting... What about the roof? You mentioned one earlier. What if I jumped off it? Theoretically, of course."
"You'd black out when you reached the layer of fog and come to in the room you arrived in. Go ahead and try if you want to waste both of our times."

L thought about this for a moment, seeming satisfied. He left the window and began to pick at the walls of the barren hallway until it crumbled off. He watched, fascinated as the bits he broke off floated upwards and returned to their previous position.

"I see... could you tell me more about this place?"
"Like what?"
"Anything."

"Well..." I hesitated. What was there to say? "...We call this place the Halfway House because it's similar to halfway houses on Earth, where people from disparaged backgrounds stay temporarily while they reintegrate with society and get a flat or a job. Halfway between outcasts and not, or in our case life and death. We stay here until whatever damage to our 'souls' are fixed, and then we pass on. Usually that means reincarnation, but there are different kinds of eternities."

L's gaze faltered. I knew he must be thinking about me. A, his poor, tormented, wayward protΓ©gΓ© who'd been doomed to this place alongside him.

"...So that's why you're here, then?"
I avoided his gaze, and instead stared out the window.
"Yeah. And that's why you're here, too."

I heard a faint pattering of footsteps, and turned to see two people passing by us. A couple, Alyosha and Simon. Alyosha was a Russian girl with short blond hair, and Simon was a mild-mannered guy from Boston with a large scar over his jaw.

"Hey, Above." Alyosha said, smiling shyly. "Will you not attend the meeting today?"
"Sorry, duty calls. I'll be there next time." She nodded,  then dipped her head at L, who smiled awkwardly. She looked like she wanted to say more, but people aren't supposed to talk to new Inhabitants at first. It can overwhelm them. They continued past us, and since this was the arts & misc. floor, they were probably on their way to some kind of date.

Once they were out of earshot, L gave me a curious look.
"Above?" He asked. "Is that what you go by?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Above Asphodel."

I expected L to question this, but surprisingly he didn't. Instead he just replied with,
"...I see. Then, I'm Ryuzaki."

Ryuzaki, huh? Was he Japanese? I couldn't tell. Maybe he was mixed..?
"Is that your real name?" I asked.
"Not really, no." He said, shrugging. "But it's the name I'm most accustomed to. Just like how you go by Above, but your real name is (y/n) (l/n)."

I stiffened. When was the last time I'd heard that name? Fifteen, twenty years ago?
"...You know my real name?"
"Yeah, of course. Why, should I not?"
I tried to hide the grimace forming on my face and looked away.
"No, it's just that... for people like us, names can be a bit of a sore spot. I'm Above, not (y/n), so please address me as such."
"Right, of course." He replied. "And I'm Ryuzaki."
"...Yeah."

I beckoned him forward. Thankfully there was only one floor left, and then I could assign him a room and be done with it. At least for today, anyway.

As we headed to the ground floors, L (or Ryuzaki, I suppose), asked me,
"What's that meeting that girl was talking about?"
"She's talking about the weekly Initiative meeting. Initiatives help manage things around here, usually the ones that've been here the longest. There's about fifteen of us in all."
"So, you're an Initiative as well?"
I nodded.
"Yeah, but I get to skip today's meeting because of you. I've been here the longest, so I have the title of Senior Initiative. I'm not in charge of anything, though. My job is to welcome newcomers, get them settled in. The Head Initiative is a guy named Jameson. You'll probably meet him tomorrow."

"I see. How long have you been here, then?"
"...Seven years."

Ryuzaki fell silent. Well, that shut him up. Feeling guilty, are you? You should be. I admit, part of me took pleasure in his discomfort. For awhile neither of us spoke, and the only sound that was audible was the dim pattering of our shoes on the linoleum floors.

When we reached the bottom of the flight of stairs Ryuzaki stopped, taken aback.
In front of him were the wide doors to an impressive central pavilion, which took up most of the first floor. There were sleek hardwood floors and rows upon rows of tables with people littered about, slowly filling up for dinner. A few people stole Ryuzaki and I curious glances, probably wondering what to make of the newcomer's strange appearance. In the middle of the hall was a row of about five vending machines, which by voice command dispensed just about any food or drink you could dream of, and in the back were various game tables and couches facing TVs.

"This is the Communal Hall, where you can eat, sit around, or watch TV. Our only way of keeping up with the living world is by watching the news." Warily I checked my phone for the time. "Like I said, you don't need to eat, but most people still do anyways. The only downside is bowel movements; you won't ever get hungry. If you want, you can get something from the vending machine before I assign you a room."

"No, I'm fine. But thank you." Ryuzaki said. "I'm feeling tired, and I rarely get time off. I think I'll go get some rest."
"...Okay." I replied. I guess I wasn't the only one in a state of shock, after all. Though all things considered, he was handling things extraordinarily well.
My eyes narrowed. The thought didn't sit well with me.

I turned away from the large doors down the hall. The ground story was set up so that our dorms all circled around the Communal Hall, which takes up the most of the floor. There are more rooms on the second floor as well, but they're larger and mostly reserved for couples and friends who want to cohabitate.

When we reached the end of the hall, I stopped and said to him,
"All the rooms from 26 to 33 are empty except for 29. Take whichever you like, they're all basically the same. You can tell me your room number tomorrow. Just about anything you could need you can get from a device in the closet called a Spawner. It's like a 3D printer. I'm sure you can figure it out. I'm in room 17 if you need me."

I'd been actively avoiding his gaze up until now, and regretted finally doing so. When I saw his expression, I knew exactly what was coming.

"Above," He said. His head was lowered. "I owe you an apology. I deeply regret the things I said to you back then, and for ignoring you when you were visibly struggling. I want you to know that I didn't mean it. I was a proud and egotistical teenager that feared one of my successors would take my place. You deserved better from me."

I gave him a long look, and then let out a small sigh. I wasn't upset, or angry, or anything like that. I was too exhausted to feel any kid of way except tired. All I wanted was to leave.

"There's no need for that, Ryuzaki." I told him. My voice was strained and standoffish. "It was a long time ago, and my death was my own choice. Don't hold onto that kind of guilt unless you're trying to lengthen your stay here. The point of this place is to free yourself from that kind of thing."

Ryuzaki paused for a moment.
"...Okay." He said quietly. "Well... regardless, I'm glad to have a familiar face here. Thank you for showing me around today."

I nodded impassively, and was turning to leave before stopping myself.

"-Wait." I said. "Before you go, how exactly did you die?"

He stopped and turned to meet my gaze, surprised, before dropping his shoulders.
"Oh... it's a long story. I was murdered by a man with a notebook given to him by a god of death. He can kill anyone by writing their name in it, and he's been killing criminals with no discretion, intending to wipe the world of 'evil'. I did all I could to catch him, and had managed to figure out his identity, but I lost. I died of a heart attack in his arms."

"...Oh." Was all I could manage.
"Is that all?"
"Yeah... I guess. Goodnight, then. Get some sleep."
"I will. Thank you again."

I didn't answer, and I left feeling worse than ever.

I had no idea what to make of things. How was I supposed to handle things now that he was in the picture? I couldn't hide from him even if I wanted; it's my job to take care of him. I was obligated to stick by him for at least a little bit, if for no other reason than to save face. And how would that go over? Would he avoid me out of guilt? Did he even possess that kind of shame? God forbid, what if he tried to befriend me? I wouldn't put it past him. The guy has no shame.

The idea of me ever having any kind of amicable relationship with him made me sick to my stomach. That man is far too unpredictable for me to ever let my guard down. I hated his very presence and just him existing in the same space as me was enough to put me on edge. I had no idea what to make of him or what he must be thinking, but I knew he wouldn't just cower at my sight. The only question was what to do about it.

I walked down the hall to my own living quarters, taking the long way around instead of cutting across the Communal Hall to avoid other people.

My room was almost entirely threadbare and undecorated. There was a single bed with plain grey sheets and some books scattered on the floor. In the corner was a sliding glass door leading to a balcony that I used when I wanted a smoke or a change of scenery while I read. Other than that there were no decorations whatsoever, nothing at all to signify what kind of person it was that dwelt here.
Other people's places were usually very homely; they'd use the Spawners we're given to make their quarters homely; printing out furniture and decorations and clothes. I never used mine except for things like new shoes or toothpaste.

I surveyed my dim surroundings with a tired resignation, then began to take off my clothes and change. It was winter (curiously enough, we do have seasons here), and the sun was already down, so I figured I might as well get under the covers and try to sleep. I grabbed the medicine bottle on my bedside table and swallowed two tablets, then climbed into bed. For some reason, the longer you live here the less you're able to sleep. Something about melatonin levels in a self-sustaining body. I've been here so long that I can't sleep at all without taking medicine for it.

I laid there for a long time, trying to put my mind off of L and focus on falling asleep. But the pills only made me drowsy without actually knocking me out, and soon enough my mind travelled back to him, to that pained expression and the vulnerability it exposed. 

Eventually I grabbed the medicine bottle to take another pill only to find I'd taken the last one. Irritated, I threw the empty bottle across the room and it hit the wall with a thud. It was too much work to spawn more, so I just swore and decided to suck it up.

I opened the drawer on my bedside table and felt around in the dark for my mp3 player, planning to listen to music so I could drown out the thoughts. I never listened to music much when I was alive, so when I got my mp3 I just downloaded the first thing that showed up. It ended up being mostly slow rock.
The song playing was sad. Whoever wrote the lyrics seemed to be yearning for something even he didn't know himself. Something better, I guess. Everyone's like that in some way or another.

It took me hours to finally fall asleep. During that time, I hesitantly allowed myself to reflect on my old life at that awful orphanage in Winchester.
The hell that it was feels so distant now, here on this vast and foreign planet somewhere in the universe. On Earth my life was wretched and miserable, all because the world needed another L. Another genius to bring 'justice' and to keep murderers and criminals in check. How ironic, that such a noble goal caused such profound suffering. 

Could Ryuzaki really be blamed for it? There's no way he knew the details of our training regimen in much depth, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was treated in a similar way. Though, I doubt anyone ever locked him up like they did to Beyond and I.

Even now, I can't even begin to make heads or tails of L, the person. I only met him once when we were alive, and his words were harsh and devastating to hear. Told me I would never make it. I still resent him for that. But now, seven years later... who had he become? I couldn't tell.
Before I met him, I assumed he was nothing but this emotionless machine of a detective, completely consumed by work and containing little to no personality outside of that. After, I knew he was someone I could never even hope to hold a finger to. He'd said as much and he was right. But... when he apologised and I saw his eyes wrought with guilt and remorse, I realised that an L with a heart was so much worse. He was so much harder to hate.

And he claims a serial killer with a 'god of death' on his side murdered him. What a joke. It sounds utterly ludicrous, but he has no reason to lie. Am I supposed to believe that grim reapers are real? Well... I am dead and still here to think about it, so I guess anything is possible.

But the idea that he was defeated on such unfair terms rubbed me the wrong way. Being able to kill someone just by writing their name in a notebook is an unbelievably ridiculous advantage. It's practically cheating, and yet he still figured out who it was. That's more than just impressive, it's actually infuriating to me. But... he still lost. The almighty L died in the arms of his killer. Christ, no wonder he ended up here.

I hated L because I didn't know what else to do. His words led me to my death, but I couldn't blame him for it. I wished he would die, but I hated that he died under such unfair circumstances. I didn't know what to do with him. He was messing with my head, and all I wanted was to get rid of the source of my confusion.

But I had no choice. All I could do was grit my teeth and roll with the punches, adapting to this new reality as best I could.

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