W O R S H I P [ Light Yagami x Reader x L ]

CORINTHIANS 10:31

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God" 

Back home, your mom had always been a fan of big dinner parties - the kind where the living room would fill to the brim with pretty women gossiping and whispering about all sorts of delightful things and the back patio would be stacked with men smoking cigars and talking about work, their wives, and the likes. Your mother called herself an old soul - but you liked to call her an uppity bitch. Either way, the terms were interchangeable. Your father was insistent that she wasn't as bad as you made her out to be. In reality, he was right. However, the throws of teenage angst was absolutely overwhelming. Simply put, neither you nor your mother were inherently bad people - just different. However, you were convinced she was inherently bad. 

"Are you coming down?" Your mother knocked on your room door - the one you shared with your two siblings. The apartment you shared with your family was startlingly small - much smaller than the ones in America. Your father's job had only covered a two bedroom. Since he didn't plan on staying here longer than a year, he had opted to take the all-expenses paid two bedroom. For his job, you sacrificed comfort. Despite the lack of privacy, there was something exhilarating about being so close to the action - smack dab in the middle of the investigation.

"No, I don't plan on it" 

You could feel your mother's frown through the door.

"Your siblings are downstairs at the table right now, brushing up on their conversational Japanese with the Chief of Police and you're upstairs sulking. Come on down, it'll make your father look good" 

Your mother could feel your frown seeping through the door. It wasn't that you weren't interested in meeting high-ranking officials, it was more that you weren't interested in being crammed at a small table. 

"Ray Penber is downstairs with his fiance - I think her name is -" 

"Naomi Misora" You interrupted. It wasn't uncommon of you to be aware of who was who in your father's inner circle. In fact, it was common. Your nosiness was often mistook for intelligence. It wasn't that you found yourself above average - it was simply that you knew who was who. Connections were the only way to survive. "I'm not interested in playing politics. I know pretty well that they're here for pleasantries. Why would they talk about highly-classified information in a small house with three kids?" 

"It's not any of your business to know a lick of that information" Your mother spit back, her arms folded over her chest. "You're in your last year of school - you're only seventeen. Why don't you enjoy life instead of brood over your father's cases?" 

Your frown deepened. Is that how you were seen? As brooding? Your mother hadn't intended for it to be an insult but that's how you construed it - as an insult. Perhaps your fatal flaw was an intense draw to the morbid and obscene. You didn't really have a penchant for justice - justice was fleeting and oftentimes idealistic. You had a thirst for knowledge. Simply knowing who killers were and how they got away with their murders was enough for you. Sure, you could get into the semantics of whether or not KIRA was playing God - but everyone was constantly arguing about that. Why bother playing philosopher when there was no point? The law simply states that murder is illegal - there would be punishment for KIRA when, not if, he was caught. But what fascinated you more was the process of unraveling a murderer - getting into his mind and swimming in it.