Chapter Text
If anyone were to ask, Light Yagami was here of his own volition. That he had chosen to sign up to support a struggling group within the school’s clubs. That he secretly loved theater arts, and was so glad to act upon a guilty pleasure of his. Any one of those well-practiced answers, with a perfectly timed smile or a sheepish shrug, a perfect human with natural flaws and such.
He’d say any and all of those answers to cover the truth: he quite frankly didn’t pay attention to whatever the incompetent fool that his Japanese instructor (excuse him, Shibata-sensei) was dithering on about; he had merely smiled and nodded in autopilot.
Well, that was until the middle-aged crisis in human’s form had bowed pathetically with a “I really appreciate you agreeing to fill in for Ishikawa-kun for the fall show, Yagami-kun, we’ll meet in the auditorium after school finishes to get you up to speed with lines.”
Which. No. No, that was the exact opposite of the type of person Light Yagami was supposed to be. A theater kid? He’d sooner die than diminish himself in such a way; as if he’d allow himself to be made a fool in front of dozens of people’s unrelenting attention.
And yet, here he stands, in this frankly vile excuse for a school auditorium. Look down, and the stage’s black painted wooden floor is covered in various splatters of color, and peeling at random sites. Look up, the curtains are slightly discolored, and the various lights hanging from above seem old; they certainly give off enough heat for him to feel it. Look out, and the seats in the audience are falling apart, ripped up and ugly yellow foam lying around the ground. Left, right, there’s not even space to move as the entire area is cluttered with various props and strewn about costumes. For such an esteemed high school, it does not seem to care much for its auditorium.
A man, who is certainly not Shibata—which begs the question of where that particular nuisance is—comes to greet him. He carries a clipboard, and does not seem to adhere to any particular dress code. He’s quite frankly, unattractive.
“Yagami, right?” the man grunts, “I’m Osamu Nagamine, the Auditorium Director. I’m the director for Daikoku Theatre Company, as well.”
Oh, Light notes, wryly. I see the correlation.
“Shibata-san told me you were coming,” Nagamine continues. “Thank you for helping us out. What do you know of theater?”
Light puts on a sheepish smile, and ducks his head to the left just so, a portrayal of (albeit false) vulnerability.
“Not much, I’m afraid. Most of my life I’ve devoted to studying or tennis—I wish to be a police officer, you see.”
Nagamine nods seriously, before setting down his clipboard on a cart. He picks up a thick packet, and unceremoniously gives it to Light. A quick glance and Light sees “Into the Woods” written on the front of the papers, in English. Concerning.
“This is your script. You’ll be playing the part of the Baker.”
“This is… a western show?” Light confirms.
“Yes, it’s western, however the translation is well done,” Nagamine drawls.
I really doubt that. Light snorts internally. I mean, really, I’m sure the translation quality of this script is abysmal. Does this guy understand that there’s plenty of Japanese alternatives? Mizumachi, for one. Pretty sure Ishinha did that a few years ago.
As if to prove the point to himself, Light begins to flip through the pages of the packet. Nagamine, having apparently said his piece, wanders off somewhere else. Eventually Light makes it to the music portion of the script. It’s been a while since he’s had to read treble clef, and the lettering of the lyrics is unfortunately small but he can still figure out the songs well enough that they should be stage ready in a week.
Wait—
Songs?
Oh, fuck no. No, Light refuses to be part of a Western musical of all things. It’s bad enough to act on stage in a standard context of scenes and lines; he refuses to be part of a living Disney movie. Fuck that. He’s Light Yagami, for God’s sake. He’s above all of this nonsense, all of this trivial stupidity. They could pay him a million yen, and he’d still never go in front of a crowd to sing some cheesy pop song and do some stupid kids’ dance. No, no, no.
Light’s internal monologue was rudely interrupted by the entrance of a seemingly well-kept third year. He wore a smug self-satisfied smirk, acting as if he was the king of the auditorium. Light immediately found himself quite irritated by this stranger, for what was he against perfection?
“You’re Light Yagami-san, right? I’m Tatsuo Nagato, and I’m a third year. I play the character of Jack—you know, like Jack and the Beanstalk.”
“I know what Jack and the Beanstalk is, yes,” Light says, coolly.
“Uh-huh. Well, anyway. Feel free to come to me anytime, I know this must be too much for someone of your… caliber.”
Light seethed. Who is this man? No, I need to calm down. I can’t afford to let the mask slip now, disrespect to upperclassmen is not becoming of the perfect student.
“Ey, Nagato, Miyoshi-sensei wants to speak with you. Something about Giants in the Sky,” a new voice drawls. “Oh, is that—?”
Light turns to face the newcomer. He has medium length hair, gray eyes, and headphones around his neck. He’s utterly unremarkable.
“Miare-kun, this is Yagami-san,” Nagato introduces, cheerfully. “He’ll be the Baker from now on. Yagami-san, this is Akito Miare-kun. He’s our sound designer.”
“Yagami-kun’s in my year,” Miare says flatly, with a half nod of acknowledgement, before returning to Nagato. “So you gonna go, Nagato? I don’t need Nagamine breathing down my neck.”
“Honorifics, Miare-kun,” Nagato chides.
“Honorifics, Miare-kun,” Miare mocks.
Nagato rolls his eyes, before storming off.
“Ugh, I hate that bastard,” Miare grumbles. “Hey, if Dickhead and the Beanstalk there gets on your case too much, talk to Funai-senpai. She’s the only one who can wrangle him. Girlfriend privileges, or some bull like that.”
Light blinks, gaze sharpening somewhat. It appears that Miare and Nagato have an antagonistic relationship. While he shared distaste for Nagato, it was still something he could exploit. He hums some noncommittal thing, flipping through the pages of the script.
“So what do you know about theater, anyway?” Miare probes.
“Not very much,” Light replies, acting embarrassed. “I’m not sure why I agreed—I’ll only drag the show down.”
The other boy snorts. “This entire production is a shitshow, don’t worry. Hell, maybe you’ll be better at the role than Ishikawa. But that’s a low bar. Anyway, c’mon. I’ll give you the insider’s run-down.”
Thus Miare launches into a pretty decent tour, all things considered. He’s not a bad public speaker; his words display knowledge but are conveyed with sarcasm. There were times where Light was almost genuinely interested: even if those moments were rare and fleeting. Miare points out various points of interest, from the logical to the unconventional.
“These are the guys’ dressing rooms, don’t leave your stuff in there unless you want it to smell like sweat and teenage anguish,” he says, pointing to a door on the left of a small, somewhat musty hallway.
He pauses, then points out a small corner containing a chair covered in stickers. “That’s Sugihara’s pre-show cry corner. Every performance, without fail, she’ll sit there a half hour before opening and just sob—she says it helps with her stage fright. Pro tip, don’t bother her if she’s there. It’s not worth it.”
Which is, in Light’s opinion, stupid.
Still, the tour continues as the duo gravitates to the other side of the stage.
“This is the stage left wing. You see these ropes?”
Miare points to a system of ropes with red levers and notes in messy scrawl. Each rope has a varying number of weights attached to it, evidently some sort of counterweight system. A quick glance tells Light that attached to each set of ropes is an object suspended above the stage, be it: curtain, lights, or set.
“This is the fly system. Keeps all of the set hanging above the stage like some kinda circus performance. You wanna move one? Call out whatever the thing is, then say going down, or up, whatever the direction. Make sure the people on stage respond with ‘thank you’ and that object before moving it.”
Light nods.
“Make sure you do that; safety procedures are like the one thing Nagamine actually gives a shit about.”
“I understand,” Light reassures.
“Mkay, that’s it then,” Miare shrugs. “You have questions, don’t ask me. Unless it’s about sound cues.”
With that, Miare sets off towards the booth.
Light shrugs, and gets to work trying to figure out a way out of this musical. Perhaps if he fakes an injury? But, no, that would take too much effort pretending outside to care. “Accidentally” ruining the script? No, someone would just give him a copy.
Perhaps if he just pretends to be terrible? That would add a complexity to his image, showing the world that Light Yagami works to be perfect at everything, which would be good. Yes, all he’d have to do is look like he is making a genuine effort, while still being terrible at singing, dancing, acting, what not; the directors will have no choice but to kick him and find a better person for the lead role.
At some point while Light is contemplating, Nagato walks with an unparalleled confidence, looking self-satisfied. Evidently not realizing that the third year is rudely interrupting Light’s internal monologue, he begins to speak.
“Yagami-san? Do you have any questions about the script? It’s understandable if you’re having issues with it,” Nagato said with a sweet tone.
Light wants to hit this guy with his old racket.
“I’m doing well with it, thank you Nagato-senpai,” Light replies, agreeably. “The Baker and Jack seem to have a fair number of scenes together.”
“Yes, let’s both do our best to make our families proud—nothing like being the best, hm?”
Oh. Family. That is… an oversight. Sayu would be overjoyed to know Light was part of a play, wouldn’t she? It would be nice to finish the play, so that Sayu could have something to look forward to. He can tell she’s been feeling cut off from him, but he never really knew how to reach out. Maybe she could talk to him about her favorite movies, and he could compare it to theater? It would be a shame to lose Sayu. Despite it all, he does care about her.
“Then again, isn’t your father chief of the NPA, Yagami-san? Perhaps he wouldn’t like this choice of yours at all. It would be such a shame if you had to quit so soon, but I’d understand if you did. Not everyone’s cut out for this sort of life.”
Nagato speaks with a smile and a purr but his eyes hold a condescension that irritates Light beyond words. How dare he pretend to know what’s going on in Light’s life; how dare this man assume that Light can’t do anything he sets his mind to? Light’ll show Nagato why he is inherently superior.
This guy’s getting the hard side of the racket, and the hell of Light’s fury.
From this day forward, Light Yagami will set out to become the best actor there is, outshining everyone including that pathetic Nagato. He’ll put 110% into his singing, his dancing, every single line. Everyone will watch this production and think “Light Yagami is what made this show good.”
Nagato may think he is the best, but Light will show him. Light will show him, and when he does, he’ll crush Nagato’s hopes and dreams with it.
Poetic justice at its finest.
•••
Akito Miare watches the interaction—and Light’s downright menacing grin afterwards—with amusement.
“I think Jack and the Beanstalk just woke the Giant,” he snorts, before turning back to the soundboard, gleefully.
•••
Light arrives home with a new purpose. His mother greets him expectantly, holding out her hands to check on his latest grades. Light acquiesces as always, handing her the report of his perfect marks as if it’d be anything less. Sayu cheers from the other room, before the scampering of feet rushes to greet him.
“Light! Where were you?”
“Well, I… volunteered to help out the school’s theater club,” Light admits, acting sheepish.
Both Sayu and his mother’s eyes widen, but while Sayu grins, his mother falters.
“Oh! Light, that’s so cool! What play are you doing, can I come watch you?” Sayu clamors. “What’s your part like?”
“It’s a western show, Into the Woods. It’s about a few fairytales intersecting, I stepped up to replace the person who plays the Baker. He wants to reverse a curse put on his family so that he and his wife can have children.”
“Well, Light, I’m proud of you for helping out your classmates, but… will you have time to study?” Sachiko tries. “It’d be a shame if your grades slipped now, after you’ve worked so hard for your perfect marks all along.”
Light bites the inside of his lip to prevent his smile from flattening.
“Mom, it might be good for me to try to expand my horizons like this,” Light advocates. I can’t get a clear view of the world if I’m always doing the same thing. Besides, if I know what acting looks like, I might be able to pick up on lies when I’m working for the police.”
“Well…” Sachiko trails off.
Sayu turns to her, with a pleading look. “C’mon Mom, when was the last time Light genuinely asked for something?”
Light felt something soften. Thank you, Sayu. I’ll help you with homework whenever you like, I promise.
Sachiko sighs, and nods. “Alright, Light, I agree, but your father… we’ll have to discuss it when he comes home. Go work on your homework, dinner will be ready soon.”
He clenches his fist, but nods softly. “Thank you, Mom, I will.”
“You better tell me all about the show at dinner, Light!” Sayu yells after him as he climbs the stairs into his bedroom.
Dad can yell at me all he wants for me choosing to do this, Light decides. At least it’d mean he’d be home again.