Death Note 2.0
Hey everyone, this isn't gonna be more then 1 chapter long. This is just an Epilogue story, because I wanted to see how well I could write a story about the Death Note world, my real story will have all the characters from Death Note being in high school, you'll have to wait to hear any more, YA-HA!! (in case you did't know that's Hiruma from Eyeshield 21, my new best friend)
"Not guilty."
Hisao Ito gritted his teeth, the room around him flooding in a tide of red.
"This is not right!" He wanted to shout at the jury as his expressionless eyes glided over
the members.
How could they do such a horrible thing?
How could they let this vicious yakuza puppet roam free?
Hisao tugged at the sleeves of his suit, a sign of irritation. This had not gone according
to plan, not even close. Perhaps if the police had been as competent at their jobs as
he, this would not have happened. The dull-witted idiots lumbered into crime scenes,
compromised evidence and then Hisao was the one who had to sort out the whole
mess and come up with a compelling case against the accused. Their arrogance was
not in the least bit appreciated either. They constantly berated Hisao for 'getting on their
ass', for actually trying to make them do their jobs.
It wasn't like that everywhere, of course. When he'd been a prosecutor working for the
major case division – murderers and the like – the investigative team was more than
amazing, never missing a single detail, always timely, always on their toes. The jerks at
the organized crime department were nothing like them. Half of them were on a yakuza
payroll, and the other half was on THOSE guys' payroll. Corruption at its best, they did
everything short of literally sabotaging Hisao's case.
When Kira was around things had gotten easier for the major case guys, and Hisao
was transferred since the god of death seemed to be ignoring the mob. Of course, that
only lasted for so long, and eventually both Ito and Mikami had little to take care of in
that department too.
Hisao wondered what really happened to that guy. He'd really liked Mikami, he liked the
way the man thought. No forgiveness, no pity, criminals never changed. Hisao had to
agree; he'd seen it all too often in major case. A rapist or serial child molester would
come out of prison and say he was cured, and not three weeks later he was right back
in. Once, he was speaking to a man who'd just come out of jail for just such a
conviction, and he'd told Hisao that sexual predators never DO change, that they
always have these nearly uncontrollable urges, that unless you had a Herculean will
you would succumb to your desires.
The defense lawyer who'd sat at the other bench stood up and gave Ito an apologetic
look, knowing who he'd just freed. Hisao just gave a curt nod and picked up his
briefcase. He hated losing a valid case, he hated not having the proper resources to put
scum behind bars, he hated not being able to rid the world of weeds; for every criminal
Hisao put away, ten sprung up to take his place. And each time the fledgling mobsters
were more violent and more arrogant, eager to prove how tough they were to their
superiours.
He did not want to speak to anyone, to hear their hollow apologies and condolences. Ito
knew that they did not understand, that 'you'll get him next time' was not a viable option.
The world needed to be purged, and Kira was no longer around to do it.
Even though the arrival of Kira slowed Hisao's career, he didn't care, because Kira was
doing for Hisao what he had wished to do for as long as he could remember. Kira had
bypassed the needlessly complicated judicial system and righteously executed the
guilty. Hisao was envious of Kira's power, unlike Teru, who he knew worshipped the
mysterious figure with an innocent piety, completely agreeing with Kira's every decision.
For a time Ito had a sneaking suspicion that Mikami was actually Kira, but he had
dismissed the idea; Teru was too devoted to Kira to BE Kira.
The details about Mikami's termination of employment were rather shady. Some said
that he'd been taken on board by Interpol, while some gossiped that the man had gone
mad and ended up in a mental hospital. Frankly, Hisao thought that both those notions
were complete bullshit, but he wondered what had happened nonetheless. He also
wondered what had happened to Kira. It had been four years since the unexplained
killings stopped, and business was picking up for Ito. In fact, he was nearly swamped
with cases, few prosecutors wishing to work for the organized crime division.
Hisao yawned loudly as he walked down the front steps of the courthouse – he was
beat, so tired he was having a hard time staying awake during trials. Paying little
attention to where he was walking, his tired mind already thinking about how not to
bomb his next case, Hisao nearly slipped on a notebook lying halfway down the steps.
Furrowing his brow Ito picked up the unobtrusive black book and dusted off the cover
with his hand. The book bore a curious title on its front, printed in stylized English
letters.
"Death Note." He muttered, reading it aloud.
"How juvenile."
He assumed that it was some high school prank thought up by a misfit trying to get
back at the kids he didn't like, writing their names on his black list, imagining their
deaths. Ito found such a thing tasteless and morbid, pretending to kill someone in your
head. The world was full of enough horrid thoughts as it was without some kid
contemplating the death of the guy who stole his lunch.
Mechanically, Hisao put the book into his briefcase, planning to search the pages for its
owner as soon as he returned home.
Home was a small flat in a typical, crowded neighborhood. There wasn't much by way
of furniture, as Hisao preferred a minimalistic style as opposed to the cluttered and
hoarding ways of most modern urban professionals. Setting his case down on a low
Louis XIV-style coffee table, Ito walked to the kitchen and set a pot of tea to boil and
rummaged through the fridge for day-old take out.
Unlike most, Hisao wasn't particularly keen on television, the trivial gameshows and
repetitive commercials annoyed him. Instead he used his tv as a computer monitor,
picking and choosing what movie he wanted to watch and when. He needed to take a
break from working, a night devoted solely to sulking about losing a case. Switching on
the screen, he opened one of a number of his feel-good movies, and half-watching,
picked at the cold noodles.
Distracted, Ito's gaze wandered back to his briefcase. Setting down the takeout
container, he took out the notebook and studied its cover, looking for any indication of a
name. Finding nothing, he moved to crack open the pages, but the shrill cry of the tea
kettle disrupted his investigation.
Two minutes later, a mug of strong black tea in hand, Ito again settled down to look at
the notebook; the more he got pulled away from it, the more curious he became about
its contents and owner. Flipping to the first page, he studied the inside cover with an air
of surprise. There, written in the same stylized English lettering were what seemed like
rules for the use of the book. After quickly scanning through them, Hisao was even
more convinced that this was a prankster's book.
But why such detail?
Surely no one else was meant to see the book other than the kid that participated in this
twisted game.
Oddly uncomfortable, Hisao flipped through the pages, only to reveal the crisp
whiteness of blank paper. No name of its owner or intended victims to be seen.
Chiding himself for the irrational feeling of nervousness that flitted through his stomach,
Ito tossed the book back onto the table and turned his attention to the movie. Still, his
eyes kept on settling on the black covers with the strange title 'Death Note'.
Curious, and still fuming over his lost case, Hisao picked up the book and pulled a pen
from his briefcase, angrily scrawling the name of the one that got away across three of
the lines. Flipping the book closed, he held it in his hands, staring blankly into the title,
his eyes glazing over for a few minutes.
Snapping out of it, Hisao shook his head and rubbed his eyes, a self-depreciating smile
crossing his lips.
"Ridiculous."
With that, he laid the book on the table and watched the rest of the movie, not wishing
to admit to himself that writing the jerk's name in the notebook made him feel better.
The next morning Ito slept in; even the right hand of the law had weekends. The sun
slowly crawled across the floor and up onto his bed, eventually the long beam reaching
out a slender finger to lay upon his eyes. Blinking sleepily, Hisao rubbed his head, his
pin-straight hair falling in messy strands across his forehead and around his face. He
intended to spend the entire day at home, vegging out on the couch, ordering artery-
clogging pizzas and washing them down with stomach-dissolving soft drinks.
Shuffling out into the living room, he flicked on the tv, going to his favourite online
morning news show. The face of a familiar criminal shone malevolently on the screen,
and Hisao let out an involuntary groan. He couldn't think of a more perfect way to ruin
his entire day than seeing the face of that 'innocent' creep first thing in the morning. He
was about to turn off the program when the words 'heart attack' registered in his mind.
Turning the volume up, Ito listened to the whole report, and slumped against the back
of the couch upon its completion.
Didn't the book say that the person would die of a heart attack?
No way.
His mind instantly jumped to Kira. He remembered the very first strategic move made
by L, displaying a death-row criminal, challenging Kira to take his life.
Heart attack.
Hisao's eyes grew wide. Had he just killed someone? But how could that be possible? It
was just a book.
He jumped out of his seat and ran to his bedroom to get dressed. This was
unbelievable. His hands shook as he put on his blazer, both from excitement and fear.
He needed to make sure this was real and not just some wildly freaky coincidence.
Taking the subway to a more seedy part of the city, Hisao headed straight for a
mahjong bar, where he knew that some of the import triads liked to launder their
money. Entering, he seated himself at a non-playing table and ordered a beer while
scanning the haunt for its usual and familiar faces. Spotting an often-jailed thug, a quick
tempered man hired for his muscle, Ito pulled out the notebook, making sure that the
title on the cover stayed hidden.
According to the rules, he was allowed to write down the mode of death. This way
Hisao would know for sure whether it was really the book that was doing this.
Ha Jin, gunshot to the left temple, 10 seconds.
His hand trembled as he set down the pen, counting down the seconds to death.
The man across from the thug looked equally as stupid, and surely just as armed.
In the span of ten seconds the two men got into a spat, the other player pulling out his
gun and waving it at Ha Jin. His face growing red, the man pulled the trigger, lodging a
bullet into his partner's left temple.
Ito had just counted 'one'.
How he got out of there and back to his apartment, Hisao could not remember. One
moment he was gaping at the listless body of the hapless triad, and the next his face
was in his pillow, his breathing irregular.
So this was it. This is how Kira killed the criminals.
Ito's breathing calmed and he sat up.
This was wonderful.
Mikami would have been knocked on his ass if Hisao told him about this. But Teru was
gone, missing somewhere, and Hisao had no one to share his discovery with but
himself.
For the rest of the day, Hisao walked around his flat, contemplating how he should
proceed. Surely, as soon as he started taking down the worthless, outcries would begin,
and people would scream Kira at the top their lungs. But such a thing was inevitable no
matter what he did.
The next morning, on his last day of rest, Hisao picked up the book and a pen. If he
was going to revive Kira, he was going to do it with a bang.
At first he had been tempted to deal with those in his casefiles, but that would quickly
lead back to him after a brief search of the assigned prosecution. Instead he opted for a
more dramatic entrance. Accessing the public section of the police website, Hisao
searched for the list of the most wanted criminals in the city. Twenty hardass faces
stared him in the eye. Without a second thought, Hisao wrote down their names one by
one, setting their time of death to exactly ten o'clock, enough time for their deaths to be
on the breaking news by noon. Unsure whether this would make a big enough impact,
he looked through recent news articles of criminals facing trial. Some of them were his,
some of them not, but it was not difficult to pick out the guilty ones. Thus, ten more
names were added to the list.
Thirty criminals in one city.
Now all he had to do was wait until noon for the reports of their deaths to come in.
Hisao had a pleasant breakfast.