Iniquitous
Blue Paper Plane
An illusion of impenetrability is for naught. Technically, Light Yagami knew many things, yet he learned this lesson too late.
"Fuck you, Ryuuk. Fuck you," he hisses between clenched teeth. Fiercely, he glowers through narrowed tawny eyes. Strands of longish mahogany hair are pasted to his forehead with sweat. Pale as snow, he's a white rose steeped in blood. Steeped in death. Steeped in pain.
Light has always been the rare type of boy who looked handsome as sin no matter what he was doing. This in itself is now proven a falsity.
No one looks good when they're rolling around in a pool of their own blood. No one looks good when they're gasping rough-hard like an animal, and there are trails of blood and saliva trickling down their chin. And no one looks good with frenzied, bloodshot eyes lusting for murder and oozing with contempt.
Light succumbs to vulnerability as Ryuuk contently scribbles his name in the Death Note. True, Light is brilliant, a prodigy. Whom every man strives to be is the excellent front he impeccably maintains.
Yet at the same time, he is so utterly a fool in the way he has developed, and the disgusting manner in which he has let himself be controlled by iniquitous ambitions.
A tangle of incessant bloodlust. Vulnerable and egotistical and yet somehow human. Honestly human, at last, begging at the line between life and death.
This is the true Light Yagami.
"Ryuuk, how dare you defy me!" Light snarls, on his hands and knees and clawing his way toward the shinigami. "I know you understand how hard I've worked for this! All of this! Don't you? You've watched me all these years, striving to do what is necessary to help this planet, help it all. I've worked so hard. Every second of my time, every waking moment I remained devoted. Never did I stray! Yet still, after all this, no one understands! See, you cannot write my name in that notebook. You cannot. I won't be defeated, not me of all people. For I... Am... justice. An altruistic being. I am God!"
Ryuuk looks down at his quivering, useless form, amused. "God? Altruistic? You? Ha! No you aren't. Just look at yourself. A pitiful, burdensome human, that's all you are. Nothing but a tool... a plaything in a game. A pawn from the beginning. Oh? Ha ha... The countdown begins now, Light. Hold your breath. 40...39...38..."
"Y- you bastard!" Light sputters, appalled. "Y-y- you detestable—I won't give up! I've won already! I'm an honorable, exemplary, invincible. I cannot be killed. I-" Light collapses again, his eyes swimming with infuriation. "Damn you. Write their fucking names down already!"
"29...28... why, Yagami Light? You're dead already anyway." Ryuuk states.
Honestly, Light is absolutely terrified. Terrified to lose, to die. To be slain, but not to slay another and remain victorious, as he is meant to be.
And to become nothing at all but remnants. That is what terrifies him the most.
And it hurts, so much…
"DAMN YOU RYUUK!" he screeches, pitying himself.
Ryuuk merely shrugs. "16...15...14..."
His journey had only just begun at the crack of dawn. Night had yet to befall him. To cut it short here? Impossible! Of the cruelest injustice, it would be. He was too young to die, too brilliant to die, too noble and courageous and capable...
"Don't do this to me. Fuck you. Fuck you to hell," he mutters brokenly, refusing to accept defeat, rebellious. Tears trail underneath feathery eyelashes, down high cheekbones, and a straight elegant nose, splattering.
"8...7...6..." The cycle continues without compassion.
Crying hysterically now, he rolls over on the ground and screams. The cause of his grievance: these wounds and lack of satisfaction for unfulfilled duty. It is so insufferable, to have your dream, your life, your purpose to be pieced together almost flawlessly, and then have it torn down without even warning. Dreams are fragile. He realizes that now.
"5..."
There! Unbearable spasms begin gnawing at his palpitating heart. Light, in his distress, clutches at his chest, battling the agony, clawing at the last thread of life that's left in him.
"4..."
I... must fight, he thinks desperately. It shall not end like this. He's determined, more than anything, to keep fighting. He won't give into L...
Oh god... not yet. Please. Not yet.
"...3"
He has no regrets. He'd do it all over, if he could, in a heartbeat. Only that he let himself lose—that is the true disgrace. All of his efforts put to waste because of stupid morals, and damn games and mistakes...
He is truly dying. He can't prevent it. He's not impenetrable; he's young and blind and broken.
"...2..."
He stops squirming. Unwillingly, his eyes flutter shut as he desperately fights a haunting, dreamless haze.
"...1. Pathetic."
The screaming ceases. Merely a lifeless shell remains. Iniquitously, Ryuuk chuckles and admires his handiwork. "That was a fun way to pass the time. But it's over now. So... see you later, Light. In Hell or the Shinigami Realm, wherever 'God' takes you."
The white rose is withered now. Drowned in the fountain of blood in which it dwells. Perplexingly and disturbingly beautiful lies the bloodied, mangled corpse of twenty-three year old Yagami Light: the twisted result of a tantalizing treasure and a guilt-ridden pleasure. This is righteousness, this is recompense when the world and its inhabitants call for the wicked.
A/N: Had always wanted to write a Death Note related kind of thing, so here it is. Thank you Serria, for being an excellent beta-reader and helping this fic to be the very best it could be. I apologize for overuse of the F-word. Cookies? Reviews? I crave them.