[AN] welcome my fellow lovers of yaoi, and supporters of the Light x L pairing. have you ever wished for there to be an alternate ending to the wonderful anime/manga Death Note? fear not, I have come to your aid! there are probably many other ideas out there like mine, but I hope this fanfiction seems at least a bit different than the others you've read before. please bear with me...

anyfucks, I have no idea where this fic will be going. but there will be lemons. and they will be awesome. oh, and as for the Izanagi. Izanagi is the god of life and creation in the Shinto religion. but in my fanfiction, there is more than one Izanagi. let's just say that they're the opposites of Shinigami. welp, you'll figure it out as the fic progresses. this chapter is pretty much just a my own written version of the last episode with a few twists and some extra stuff. but it has really important details so don't skip over this chapter if you plan on keeping up with the story. I wouldn't read this chapter if you haven't finished Death Note yet.

thank you for even bothering to take a glimpse at this story. it'd also mean a great deal to me if you offer some criticism, be it constructive or not.

[Disclaimer] I do not own Death Note or its characters, other than the Izanagi and the concept of the 'Light Note' depicted in this fanfiction. and that tiny portion of that giant ass speech in the fic is from the Death Note manga.

Life Note
How to Use

I

● The human whose name is written in this note shall be granted the ability to cheat death.

● This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

● This note can also nullify the effects of the Death Note.

● If the cause of death written in the Death Note is not specified, the writer simply has to write down the person's name in the Life Note within 40 seconds of it being written down in the Death Note for the effect of the Death Note to be nullified.

● If the cause of death is specified, the writer must specify a probable explanation for the cause of death to be halted within 40 seconds of the name being written down in the Death Note.

● If the explanation is possible, the writer has an additional 6 minutes 40 seconds after writing the name to add further details before the effects of the Death Note are restored. If further details are not written, the Death Note may take effect depending on the details written down in the Death Note.

Chapter 1: Heaven, Fallen

All it takes is a little gasoline and the brisk flick of a match for the self-proclaimed God of the New World's picturesque Heaven to burst into flames.

"Light Yagami." Those unfamiliar words are uttered by an unfamiliar, childish voice. The words are final and resolute, said without a hint of hesitation or uncertainty, marking the tragic end to the best laid plans that had been intricately crafted by a mere human trying to obtain divinity. They reach his ears with ease, the intonation a derisive rise and fall, but the man's mind can't process it. The syllables don't sound right in his head, his typically fast-paced brain unable to decipher their meaning. He desperately begins searching through the files of his memories, but finds them in disarray. What is a 'Light Yagami'?

Or rather, who is Light Yagami?

The fire is slowly creeping up to the false God's gilded throne, yet it purges the unnecessary bits of information that are concealing the answer to his question and terrifying him all the same.

"You are Kira."

It feels like the sudden illumination of a light after just waking up; blinding and brilliant. He knows because he is God. He knows all, he knows the path to justice, the fine line between the honest and the rotten, the name behind those coal-black, young eyes staring back at him with blitheness, the identity of 'Kira." Light Yagami is soon to be no more. He had already begun being devoured by the vengeful flames of justice long ago. The fire that is slowly creeping up on him now sparked years before, probably the exact moment he had picked up the Death Note, when Light Yagami was just another insignificant human preparing for an average adult hood, a passing face, a hog lined up with the rest of them in the abattoir, waiting to be slaughtered.

They're wrong. They're all wrong, wrong, wrong. And he is right. Light Yagami is not Kira. Light Yagami is gone.

Light Yagami clings to the throne, waiting to be burned, a sacrifice for the New World and its God.

Kira makes himself known, his metamorphosis complete, and spreads his new wings to prepare himself for flight.

The panels of the ventilation fan are slowly circulating.

A sudden expulsion of malevolent laughter echoes off the empty walls of the warehouse. It continues, rising and falling like a tumultuous sea, unforgivable and relentless. The emptiness serves as an amplifier for him, making his voice known to all, filling their ears with shock and unparalleled fright. Other than its sound effects, this setting is far from ideal. It's so cliche. The final stage for too many stories take place in an abandoned warehouse much like this one. Yet again, this is not the final stage for Kira. Just his adversaries. He keeps that in mind, and it serves as a much needed boost of morale for him.

The fools.

"That's right," Kira murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His laughter has died exponentially, leaving in its wake the occasional chuckle and excited exhale of breath. He disregards the name Light Yagami and answers the coal-eyed child as though those four syllables never left his mouth, like the only accusation he made was "you are Kira."

"I am Kira," he confirms like it's an ultimatum. A deep silence settles over the dirty warehouse as the phrase sinks into all of their thick skulls.

The flames are licking at Light Yagami's bones, his ashes cloud Kira's vision. But his ideals, his well-thought-out goals and iron-clad rules remain as clear to him as the untouchable skies of Heaven.

The smoke created by the burning remains of Kira's sacrifice, however, prove to be his downfall. Light Yagami is a necessary pawn in this chess board of life and death. The smog reaches up towards the sky, obscuring Heaven's sun and casting shadows over Paradise.

Kira turns his back to their guns, daring them to shoot with a smile on his face. He is death, and does not fear it anymore.

"So, now what? Are you going to kill me right here?" He turns back around, his expression now serious and taking on characteristics of the familiar Light Yagami that the task force had grown to know so well. "Listen. I am Kira. And," he pauses, allowing this fact to tangle itself into their minds, casting aside any doubt that they had left, "the god of this new world! In this world I am the law, and I am the one maintaining the order. That is the truth. Now I am justice! The world's only hope. Are you going to kill me? Is that really the right thing to do? Capturing Kira that may have been the just thing to do in the past, but now, it's evil. The mentality of the world has changed. Are you sure you want to capture Kira just for your satisfaction? It's been six years since Kira appeared. War is a thing of the past, most of the worst criminals have died, and the world's crime rate has gone down by 70%. But this world is still rotten."

Kira continues his testimony like a defending attorney in a court room, a priest preaching the Bible to God's students, but his voice falls upon deaf ears. The words, no matter how reasonable and justifiable they are, fail to change their views of Kira and the terror he has brought upon the entire world. They stand there in silence, allowing him to speak, simply because they pity him and the monster he has become. It's like a soliloquy because no one is listening to him. A soliloquy sung by a siren with its tongue ripped out.

This is the end. They all know it to be true. Matsuda's eyes begin to water with tears that feel hotter than a stove on its highest setting but can't be higher in temperature than his own body, and there's a knot in his throat that he's struggling to swallow, trying to push it into the pit of his stomach and let the acid there eat it away like the madness that has devoured his sanity and everything he believed in. After all these years, it was Light.

L had known all along. And no one believed him. No one listened.

"You know it as well as I do." Light's speech is coming to a close. These will be his last words, and even a criminal deserves that much, so they let him finish.

"There are those in this world who are better of dead." Light Yagami, Kira, is one of them.

"There's nothing wrong with exterminating pests, so why is it wrong to kill people who are pests to this world?" Because killing pests isn't murder.

"Do you really want to put an end to Kira here?" That is what almost everyone in this room has been fighting for for six years, after all.

"Is that really for the good of this world?" It's for the preservation of 'humanity' and everything it stands for.

"What good will it do to arrest me now?" It'll put an end to this war.

"It's only going to make you happy, right?" This is not a happy ending.

"Don't you think you're being egotistical?" Claiming to be God is egotistical.

"If you claim that this is to avenge L's death, then that is an act of folly. What you see before you is Kira, but also the God of this new world."

Silence again. The last echoes of Light's speech fade, leaving only a profound silence until Near's voice cuts through it.

"No," he challenges, the snow white curls obscuring his eyes. "You're just a murderer, Light Yagami."

Kira wants to kill them. Kira wants to tear off that kid's mouth for even saying that name in front of him, in front of God, and make it so that he never says any accusation or questions the law of Kira ever again. But he stands there, his teeth grinding viciously behind placid lips, and waits for the opportune moment.

It does not come.

There are many doors being closed, and only one is thrown open. Precious moments spent casting judgement on the wicked, on calculating and planning, and entertaining his articulate thoughts and bright dreams have been spent in vain, and his own blood, sweat and tears in which he wrote the names of lowlife criminals in that little black book have been spilled all for nothing.

Mikami's pathetic suicide gave Kira a small sliver of opportunity to make an escape. Light Yagami knows it'll be in vain, that death will soon catch up with him, deep down he knows this, but it is Kira who wills his legs to move, to open that last door and throw himself into the light of the dying day, to run and run and run as far away as he can from that wretched spot. Kira hears them calling that unfamiliar name, hears the flutter of wings as the birds take flight, disturbed from his sudden expulsion, and envies them for being able to escape so easily. He spends a mere second on this thought before his mind switches over to more pressing matters.

Like his death, for instance.

He navigates his way through the familiar streets, sees the face of an innocent, aspiring Light Yagami, free from the grip of the Death Note and the rules and the repercussions that come with it. Free from the duty he has -no, had- and sacrifices he has made to ensure that the New World will be a bright and pure one for those that are worthy of it. Light Yagami, just another model student with a stable family, good looks and a promising future. Kira envies Light Yagami, too.

Light Yagami. Light Yagami, Light Yagami, Light Yagami.

Kira.

Light Yagami is Kira.

Light Yagami exists. It is Kira who does not anymore. Those flames that Kira- that Light Yagami- created had ended up consuming Kira, not Light Yagami. Kira is no more. All that is left is Light Yagami, broken like a century-old, unpreserved, porcelain doll. He can feel himself begin to shatter, watches the blood leak from his body with a steady rhythm when it hits the pavement, leaving traces of his existence where he goes. But these traces, too, will wash away along with the rest of him. To the rest of the world, to the history books and the news and the masses of the good and the rotten people, Kira will be a name without a face, and Light Yagami will be forgotten.

He wonders what the generations after will draw in their minds or on pieces of paper when they think of the name 'Kira.' Will they depict him as a hideous monster, a creature with pointed teeth and red eyes, or will they match it with the face of a godlike being seen only on the timeless sculptures found in ancient Greece?

Maybe some of them will envision an average, teenage boy like Light Yagami.

There's a door up ahead, and it is already open, and although all hope is gone and he has nothing left, the fallen God runs toward it. Surely this time it must be the last door. Light desperately clutches at his chest, over his heart, anticipating the dull pain and slight tug that will soon come. Cardiac arrest. How disgustingly poetic. He'll die the same way he inflicted death upon others, never thinking for a moment that the same thing would happen to him.

"..when it's your time to die, it will fall on me to write your name in my Death Note." He forgot all about that.

He passes through the open door frame, finds himself in another warehouse with a set of stairs, and begins the ascent.

Life Note
How to Use

II

● The notebook shall become the property of the human world, once it touches the ground of (arrives in) the human world.

● The owner of the note can recognize the image and voice of the original owner, i.e. a God of Life/izanagi.

● The human who is revived with the notebook is neither living nor dead.

Humans always have been so unrefined. Like diamonds still buried within rock. So much beauty and potential. And it's up to a select few to mine and shape them...

"Ryuk."

How dare this shinigami try to steal one of her precious diamonds? One more kanji and the gem would be beyond her reach.

The shinigami knows that voice, it's clarity akin to spring water. He stops the path of his pen, the drops of ink falling from its tip and blotting the page like blood, and looks up towards the dying sun. A figure, suspended in air and casting no shadow below, hovers not too far from where Ryuk is perched, his hand ready to cast what some would call 'divine judgement' on a corrupted king.

He just calls it inevitability.

"Oh. Hey, Mizuki," the god of death acknowledges her, his wide eyes unphased by the light that most humans would be blinded by from directly looking at it for too long. The figure before him seems to be not of this world, an ethereal image featured on the stained glass windows of a church, and the warm hues of the sunset shine through her just like one, as though she's an apparition of mankind's design.

Mizuki wastes not a single moment on formalities, cutting through them with a voice like frozen water. She has no time to lose, not with one of her precious diamonds on the verge of destruction.

"The game isn't over yet. Not until I say it is." She says it like a hymn and with thought, with articulate pronunciation and a slight edginess to it. It's not a demand, simply a matter of fact, one she plans on bestowing upon the ingrates of the shinigami realm and her own society.

Predictably, Ryuk chuckles at her display of bigotry, his jagged, pointed teeth bared in a smile that would make even the most credulous of adults piss their pants and have nightmares for weeks after. Mizuki, however, does not show even the slightest bit of indignation. Her expression is as still as undisturbed water. But, like water, all it takes is a small pebble disrupting her tranquil state for there to be a large ripple effect.

This statement comes as a sort of relief to Ryuk. Truth be told, there was a small bit of hesitance when he picked up that pen, soaked in the blood of the millions he killed before, and began to inscribe the name of what would have been an average teenager had he not picked up the Death Note, an entertaining human with as much worth to him as a grain of sand, in his black book.

The shinigami, however, doesn't harbor any kindred feelings for the one he has been possessing on and off for the past six years. No, their relationship had been strictly business, something even Light understood. The only thing holding this merciless god back is his unwillingness to let go of the past. It had been fun. Light had fulfilled his use and eased Ryuk's boredom for a little while. He dreads the return to the desolate, bleak land of the shinigami, where harbingers of death reside and apples taste like dirt, and all anyone ever does is sit on their asses and scribble down the names of insignificant humans every so often to keep themselves running. What's the point of even continuing with your dull, obsolete life when nothing exciting ever happens in it? Down here on Earth, everything changes, so much so that if you even blink a single time, you'll miss the spectacular evolution of a thousand different things. That's why Ryuk doesn't blink.

He supposes he doesn't have to go back, can just drop the Death Note in some random spot, but he doubts that a person as interesting as Light would come along and pick it up then try to do something productive with it, like try to change the world or even make a new one, someone who would mold it with their bare hands to whatever shape they see fit. No. Ryuk's never seen or even heard of anyone who's gone as far as Light has, who has worked as hard and destroyed as many as him. The pages that Light has filled are far more riddled with blood that all of the others' combined. Most would have written down just a few names, probably those of their high school tormentors, teachers that give them too much homework, or parsimonious bosses who've cut down on their wages, without any real murderous intent or even the slightest clue that in their hands they hold the deadliest weapon ever to have existed, and then toss it in the trash with horror and dismay when everyone around them started dropping like flies. Others would use it for monetary gain, similar to what the Yotsuba company had done a few years back. But no one else except for Light could have done this, not something of this magnitude for a twisted sense of righteousness, only experiencing sleep deprivation due to strict, meticulous writing, strategizing, maneuvering, and get away with it for so long.

Imagine what he'd be capable of doing if he had the Life Note in his hands as well. Imagine what it could do to his mind.

It's not that difficult for Ryuk to give into her demands, to make the necessary actions in order to close his wretched Death Note, leaving Light's name unfinished, the analogies and metaphors piling around him like dead bodies. Things that are left unwritten, pages that have turned, books being closed.

"Sure. You're doing me a big favor, saving him." At least he'll still have someone to buy him apples.

"You were the one who was going to kill him in the first place," Mizuki replied calmly, although there was a slight, almost inconspicuous twitch of her upper lip.

Irrelevance. "Don't you have someone to save?" the shinigami responds, not at all bothered by Mizuki's accusations. She seems to remember the severity of the situation and what she originally set out to do, and as quickly as it came, that small hint of annoyance vanishes with the rest of her emotions, and slowly the rest of her body.

Composed once again, she makes a single, solemn nod towards him, and without another word, her physical form seems to fade into the sky similar to how water evaporates beneath the glare of the sun.

She will not let her diamond lose its luster.

There isn't much light left, and hope is fading fast. Still, in these last few moments, he's content, has come to grips with the inevitable.

'I guess even a god has to die sometime.'

There will be no salvation. When he dies, his kingdom will fall into the sea like Atlantis. Forgotten, and only myths will suggest that it ever existed before.

He takes the first step up the staircase, then another, for some surreal reason trying to reach the top, still knowing that he has no where left to go. If death doesn't find him, the investigation team will.

The fallen king has five bullets in him, however, which hinder him greatly and cause him to collapse from pain and exhaustion, his teeth grinding in agony, his eyebrows furrowing. He hits the stairs unceremoniously, the metal steps digging into his side, and forces himself to roll over.

He only made it halfway. Light couldn't do it. Six years and he couldn't irreversibly change the world. Now, he's trapped between two realms, the fingers of death brushing his skin, and it's tantalizing, he wants to grab that hand and let it lead him to the other side. But there will be no other side for Light. Just the blank slate of non-existence, of a deep, eternal nothingness. Trapped between two worlds, Heaven and Hell. Unable to attain the splendors of Paradise nor even be casted down into the pits of the fiery sea.

He calms down. Lets it take him. Lets Death claim its victory. He is at peace, or at least as peaceful as one can be on the verge of destruction.

Some people just don't let the dead rest.

The Izanagi reaches him in only a few seconds, materializing from the spot where she had spoken to Ryuk just moments before. She appears like a mirage in the warehouse, and Light forces himself to keep his eyes open so that he can stare at her. He thinks her as some sort of illusion, for the last shimmers of light shine through her as though she's not really there.

She takes a step forward, and he feels no fear. He's gone anyways, gone, gone gone. She can't do anything to him that the Death Note will or has already done.

He's right. She is capable of the exact opposite.

She crosses the floor, her steps slow and graceful, and when she reaches the stairs, she walks up four steps in order to stand by his side, the place that she will be until their journey together comes to an end.

As she kneels beside him, she reaches a pale hand out to touch his face, and he expects it to pass right through him like a ghost. It doesn't, and he feels the biting chill of her fingers when they touch his skin. Her gesture is gentle yet possessive.

"You can't die just yet."

If Light were even capable of speech, he wouldn't have known what to say. He's usually so full of answers and knowledge, but right now everything is in a mess, including himself.

The Izanagi lets her hand fall so that she may reach into her snow white yukata. Light believes for a short moment that she's carrying a weapon on her, but what she pulls from the cloth that she is wearing is no weapon, not even a Death Note. It restores life, not destroy it.

It is a simple white notebook, similar in size and appearance to the Death Note other than its contrasting color. She opens it to an empty page, her eyes never leaving his face, even when she raises her hand once again to cover his eyes with her cold palm.

Suddenly, a brilliant explosion of light engulfs the warehouse, although it does not reach past the shattered windows or open doors or cracked walls. And when the light fades, the sun completes its descent past the bloody horizon, and night has fallen.

When she lowers her hand again, Light can distinctly make out the outline of wings blacker than night itself on her back. They're quite large, and look like those on a raven or crow, or even more appropriately like the ones on a celestial god. Not a single time do her azure eyes stray from his face, smoldering and intense, even as she reaches back to pluck a single feather from her wings among the wide array of them. The quill seems to be steadily dripping blood, like it has an endless supply inside of it.

Light watches in awe and slight apprehension, wondering if the Death Note can also come in different colors. Is she writing his name down? And if she is, why isn't Ryuk being the one to end his life like he promised he would?

He hears the faint scratching of her quill on the paper, and closes his eyes as he braces himself for death. It's not so bad. Kind of peaceful, despite this heavy sense of foreboding that's baring down upon him.

The blackness behind Light's closed lids becomes blacker, heavier, like the weight of the night, or perhaps the woman's wings. He himself, however, feels weightless, like he has a soul that has been ripped from his physical body and set free into the sky. The higher he goes, the farther away he seems to be from everything else. Farther from the Death Note, farther from the investigation team, from the rotten people that dwell in their filthy holes and the good that walk among them. And when he soars too high, when he reaches his limit, when he thinks one more meter and he'll plummet back down, it's like there's a shackle on his ankle keeping him from drifting away.

He's dead, but not quite. He's alive, but not quite.

Mizuki, despite her frail appearance, easily lifts the boy's body into her arms and embraces the night with her blood tipped wings.

November 5th, 2004

It's astounding what the simple push of a button can do.

So much data deleted, so much evidence expunged, all that information now only existing in the mind of a single man with poor posture and dark lines beneath his wide eyes.

L shall be deleted too, like a stray letter in a typed up sentence that's not supposed to be there. Backspaced. Deleted. Dead.

The power went out, and everyone was flung into chaos, leaving only two people in the room level-headed. Kira and L.

It was dark. L couldn't see. He couldn't see Kira or the shinigami, and could feel his end drawing nearer. Catastrophe had found him, sniffed him out like a hound. He wondered what it would do to Kira once it caught up to him. He had, after all, left behind him a river of blood to track him with.

"The Shiniga-" Delete. Information expunged. His sentence went unfinished. Everything went unfinished.

The spoon between his fingers slipped and clattered dramatically on the tiles below. He didn't have the strength to sit up anymore, and a forceful tug on his heart pulled him to the floor, chair and all. Everything went in slow motion. He had fallen, and it wasn't graceful like a flower breaking away from its branch.

The force held him there, pinned him down, whispered sweet nothings in his ear and promised everything would be over soon. This wasn't the end he foresaw. No, not here, not now, not with the entire task force and Kira staring at him. Not without his name being written down in Kira's Death Note.

He heard the bells ringing. Heavy, slow, deep and pounding like the last thumps of his heart, but only less erratic.

Kira didn't kill him, but he willed it to happen.

Neither of them had won, but Kira would still claim this moment as his own victory.

Right when he hit the floor, Light was beside him, feigning horror, holding him in his tainted arms as would be expected of a close friend, of someone who wasn't Kira, who was capable of feeling empathy, who wasn't witnessing the fall of his greatest adversary.

Then, that buried, malevolent smile crept up on Light Yagami's innocent face. L would have preferred if Kira had shown his true colors with a grimace upon realizing that he had lost the war instead of a winning smirk like that.

He could feel himself slipping, could feel the violent waves of red crash over his head, drowning him. Wouldn't it be so much easier to let the sea claim him? He didn't want to die.

Twenty four second had passed since Rem had written L's name down in her notebook. Her remains, a measly pile of dust and sand, now laid in one of the corridors of the headquarters. She had given her life, Watari and L's lives, to sustain Misa's and her happiness. What a noble way to die. Who knew shinigami were capable of feeling empathy? Kira had proven to be an even more wicked demon than gods of death like her. He had surpassed them all.

Right when L Lawliet was about to let go, let himself go down, down, down, never to resurface, he caught a glimpse of something behind Light's shoulder, unknown to all except for the dying detective. It was a beautiful woman, hair darker than a black hole, eyes bluer than the morning sky. She was like an angel, come to carry his soul far away, to Heaven above or Hell below. L wondered which place he'd be best suited for. His alignment did not fall on either end of the spectrum in his opinion. Neutral. Perhaps she'd send him to purgatory.

But he knew that she was not an angel brought down to ferry him to the other side. Even on the verge of death, his mind was not that far gone. When everything around him crumbled and burned, he still retained his sanity, kept a firm hold on his mind. Unlike Kira. Similar to Light.

A raised finger pressed against the woman's lips, motioning for L to be quiet. Why was it that L could see her and no one else could?

In the chaos of what was unfolding, she had slipped L a small piece of her notebook. It remained in his clenched hand, and for some reason he didn't drop it despite being so weak. When he tried to see if he could form a fist with his other hand, he found that he could not, nor could he release the tiny piece of paper.

He thought he heard her say, in a voice like a wind chime, "Close your eyes."

L obeyed, for his lids were very heavy, and he didn't know if it was because he was nearing his end or because of depriving his body of sleep so much. He didn't care. For now, he knew deep down that he was safe.

This was not the end. L Lawliet remained a piece on the deadly chess board, a piece played by Mizuki Shimizu, a true god of life.

Life Note
How to Use

III

● Life Notes come only in one color; white.

● The human who touches the Life Note can recognize the image and voice of its original owner, an Izanagi, even if the human is not the owner of the note.