This is a songfiction I wrote in German several months ago and translated only now. I am too tired to say much ... the music it is based on is (as it says on the tin) Mozart's Requiem Mass in d-minor, a marvellous piece of music. To listen to it, ht tp:/ www. youtube. com/ playlist? list=PL3CAD65AAA1 AD8E66&feat ure=mh_lolz without the spaces, as usual. Lyrics are first in the original, then in a translation. Death Note is not mine, but belongs to Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi. Enjoy.
Requiem
A Death Note Songfic to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Requiem Mass in d-minor, KV 626
Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Te decet hymnus Deus, in Sion,
et tibi reddetur votum in Ierusalem.
Exaudi orationem meam;
ad te omnis caro veniet.
Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Grant them eternal rest, O Lord,
And let perpetual light shine upon them.
A hymn becomes you, O God, in Zion,
And to you shall a vow be repaid in Jerusalem.
Hear my prayer;
To you shall all flesh come.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
And let perpetual light shine upon them.
And thus spake he, spake God: "Fall!"
And he had fallen.
What had been his choice? What had been L's choice? What had been Rem's?
None!, for Fate determined each and every step of man, every thought, every deed, at any moment.
And he, and L, and the Shinigami, all but willing tools of Providence! And he had been chosen to rule the world as God himself.
Surely there were those that were small-minded and unwilling or unable – or both? – to recognise his august entity as just that. L had been their figurehead: soon they would crumble under him. And would they not finally see how his reign was far more just, far freer?
Watari.
Ryuzaki.
Rem.
All those that had dared stand against him had been eliminated. The other investigators were confused and desperate – now they could only turn to him, believe in him that Ryuzaki had presented as his successor and loved like no-one else. From his current position it was only a matter of time until he controlled the entire National Police Agency …
And then finally he, Kira, would take the illustrious place that Providence had reserved for him: he indeed would be the God of a new world!
Kyrie eleison;
Christe eleison;
Kyrie eleison
Lord have mercy;
Christ have mercy;
Lord have mercy.
Once a human heart stops beating, first the phase of pallor mortis begins: as there is no longer any capillary circulation the blood vanishes from the uppermost dermal layers. Thus the corpse develops the characteristic 'deathly pallor'. This phase starts 15 to 20 minutes after deceasing with light-skinned humans.
Parallely the phase of algor mortis proceeds: the body temperature aligns with the surrounding temperature. The decrease respective negative decrease is linear, approximated by the Glaister equation: passed time (36,9°C – rectal temperature in °C)1.2. However body temperature tends to increase again during decay.
The now untamed blood – rather the heavy erythrocytes – sinks, following the laws of gravity, to the body part closest to the primary gravitation body – usually the earth. Thereby visible violet stains appear, like haematoma: this phase is called livor mortis by physicians and commences about two hours after the organism's death.
The next step, in human bodies starting around three hours after deceasing is the rigor mortis. After dying the body stops regenerating Adenosine triphosphate from Adenosine diphosphate. Therefore the ion transporters, usually keeping the Calcium concentration in the cytoplasm low, stop working and the corpse's limbs grow stiff and are now hardly moveable.
The rest is decay.
Dies irae dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla:
Teste David cum Sibylla.
Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando iudex est venturus
Cuncta stricte discussurus!
Day of wrath! O day of mourning!
See fulfilled the prophets' warning,
Heaven and earth in ashes burning!
Oh, what fear man's bosom rendeth,
When from heaven the Judge descendeth,
On whose sentence all dependeth.
Such macabre thoughts and others thought the pale boy in the last row. A quick glance through the chapel's nave proved what he had long assumed: all others, teachers, students, staff, were adorned in solemn black.
Near looked down at his own attire and lost in thought his hand rose; index and middle finger grasping a long, silky white lock and entangling it in a soundless dance. He wore – as always – a bright white pyjama and thusby stood out in the mass of mourners, not only physically.
He turned his gaze to the front again, to the altar of the time-honoured abbey church, blinking as brilliant rays of light from the colourful window on the eastern façade fell into his eyes.
Standing in the choir were the orchestra and the choir of Wammy's that would, as by the wish of the deceased, play Mozart's requiem supporting the liturgy.
Having begun with ghostly sounds from basset horns and bassoons and then supplemented with the choir in pianissimo as the acolytes entered, it soon had been superseded by the Greek Kyrieof the Requiem. Then choir and orchestra had with magnificent notes induced the requiem's sequence, the Dies irae.
To the sound of a single trombone rose the soloists in bass, tenor, alto and soprano from their chairs between choir and orchestra: Tian from senior year – that was, of course, the first year that had not known L personally – who would soon do his doctorate on spectroscopy.
Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Per sepulchra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.
Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth;
Through earth's sepulchers it ringeth;
All before the throne it bringeth.
For the tenor Octavius, a handsome boy of fourteen years, the crush of all girls in his year, who had revolutionised mankind's understanding of glycolysis.
Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura,
Iudicanti responsura.
Liber scriptus proferetur,
In quo totum continetur,
Unde mundus iudicetur.
Death is struck, and nature quaking
All creation is awaking,
To its Judge an answer making.
Lo! the book, exactly worded,
Wherein all hath been recorded:
Thence shall judgment be awarded.
Then Shirley Fenette from year seven that lived in Winchester with her family and had received a scholarship for her works in the field of nano chemistry.
Iudex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet apparebit:
Nil inultum remanebit.
When the Judge his seat attaineth,
And each hidden deed arraigneth,
Nothing unavenged remaineth.
And as the soprano Linda: warm-hearted, intelligent, humorous. Wammy's fourth, part of that wave of pure brilliance and sheer genius that had conquered the school with its currently second-to-last year. Linda, that sang a beautifully clear, pure soprano, that had taken the hearts of London's art scene by storm with her first published works. She stood, the chestnut hair bound to a pigtail and dressed in a plain, yet beautiful black dress, between choir and orchestra directly in the church's crossing, to Fenette's right. Linda looked straight ahead, her eyes were wet.
Linda. Somehow she was the good spirit that held the Wammy's together, that saved it – had always saved it – from the omnipresent rivalry to degenerate to intrigues and hatred, violence and destruction. The only case of felony mayhem that had ever happened in the Wammy's had been before Linda came.
Somehow she always knew exactly what was happening in the house without seeming a surveillant or spy. Linda always knew exactly how two students were related and tried to better it, and all that merely by observing … something of which Near knew that it was possible and even usual, that he however could just not understand.
At the same time Linda was not a part of the fights for L's succession: although she had the fourth-best grades of the house she had soon renounced her claim to L's title – the Wammy's eventually worked for L, but it also let its fledglings follow their own professions.
Linda's one passion was art: when painting, when practising sculpting, installation or composition, she was inaccessible for hours or even days. For her it almost was a compulsion to create – whenever she saw, heard, read something beautiful, aesthetic, whether in nature, the orphanage or in Winchester it inspired her to something that was at least as good. She was very productive – it occurred that she made half a dozen works a week – and every single of her artworks was distincted by light and joy. Near wondered if Linda's style would now, following L's demise, change – become darker.
But first and foremost, and perhaps just that was the factor keeping the Wammy's together, she liked everyone in the house, and everyone liked Linda – if they wanted to admit it or not. Strangely she seemed to like him, Near, the isolated outsider, especially and often sought his company – actually too often, he thought, although the girl was nice to be around. Perhaps she was under the mistaken assumption that he needed friends more than most others?
Still – he could not just snarl at her to leave him alone, as he would have done at any other student that did not grow tired of watching him puzzle or just sit and think: a), it seemed to him as if Linda knew about every tiny detail of his complex relationship with Mello. This girl could read her fellows like books, no matter how cliché it might sound … and b), he could just not bring himself to it.
Linda: brilliant, artist, warm-hearted connoisseur of human nature. Not Near, not Mello and certainly not Matt – she was the pillar of the Wammy's, she was the Wammy's.
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus?
Cum vix iustus sit securus.
What shall I, frail man, be pleading?
Who for me be interceding,
When the just are mercy needing?
Indeed, what should one do, whom should one beg for protection if even L had fallen before Kira? It appeared that Kira's power was verily absolute now. He who possessed the power to slay every human without own effort, had vanquished every foe. Even the Wammy's House, once home to the great L and his Watari, where more than two hundred children and youths from all over the world were educated and raised to take L's office and succeed to him had after the detective's demise changed its official policy and declared absolute neutrality on the topic of Kira.
Rex tremendae maiestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis.
King of Majesty tremendous,
Who dost free salvation send us,
Fount of pity, then befriend us!
Near did not deceive himself about the fact that this step was the consequent continuation of L's own views. Great L had only ever chosen cases that had triggered his interest. Whether it was because a honorary lured him that was big enough to have the archangels begrudge him should the day of the rising of all flesh and all paper indeed commence; or because one of his protégés was wreaking havoc or some mad narcissist was slaughtering criminals.
Recordare Iesu pie,
Quod sum cause tuae viae:
Ne me perdas illa die.
Quaerens me, sedisti lassus:
Redemisti crucem passus:
Tantus labor non sit cassus.
Think, good Jesus, my salvation
Cost thy wondrous Incarnation;
Leave me not to reprobation!
Faint and weary, thou hast sought me,
On the cross of suffering bought me.
Shall such grace be vainly brought me?
All left to them and the rest of the world was hope that Kira would not kill them – for who was without sin? And how would Kira justify his dictatorship after the end of crime? He and his successors would continue to murder like Robespierre, even if the only humans remaining were either just and good or Kira himself.
And then? One could only beg. Perhaps Kira would let his followers live? Then he would finally be what he had always desired to be: God.
Iuste iudex ultionis,
Donum fac remissionis,
Ante diem rationis.
Ingemisco, tamquam reus:
Culpa rubet vultus meus:
Supplicanti parce Deus.
Righteous Judge! for sin's pollution
Grant thy gift of absolution,
Ere the day of retribution.
Guilty, now I pour my moaning,
All my shame with anguish owning;
Spare, O God, thy suppliant groaning!
For what could this world's gods and idols do better than to enslave their followers by making them fear their retribution?
Near again looked around the church, searched. Yes, over there, in the third row that he had all for himself knelt Mello, hands folded. His lips were moving, fervently whispering the AveMariaagain and again lest L's immortal soul fall prey to the purgatory's fires. Near could not suppress a smile. Mello was so smart, so brilliant yet unable to free himself from the faith of his childhood. But still – was it not this abysmal optimism, the unconditional believe that life had to have sense and reason, no matter how improbable, that made Mello this interesting, this colourful and special?
This faith made Mello stand out from almost all other children in the Wammy's. Surely he had read much on the topic, knew that God was no answer but rather a pack of different questions, knew that evolution currently was the only logical theory on the emerge of global biodiversity and indeed the entire cosmos, yet all that, just as the accounts of people killing others for their faith in past as in present – had only strengthened Mello in his stalwart believe in the God of Roman-Catholic Christianity.
Mello especially worshipped the "mother of God", the virgin Mary. And indeed, was he not himself a male Madonna of innocent goodness and beauty? Yes, thought Near, if there was a God, if he would have a Day of Judgement, himself would be doomed and Mello forgiven.
Mello. Mello. Mello …
Qui Mariam absolvisti
Et latronem exaudisti
Mihi quoque spem dedisti.
Preces meae non sunt dignae:
Sed tu bonus fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.
Thou the sinful woman savedst;
Thou the dying thief forgavest;
And to me a hope vouchsafest.
Worthless are my prayers and sighing,
Yet, good Lord, in grace complying,
Rescue me from fires undying!
Roger had called them, Mello and Near, to his office, when the message had come.
"L is dead," had been his only words after long silence.
Of course Mello had transformed his confusion, his disappointment and his sheer appal to aggression. He had cursed Kira, loudly screamed out his anger – by all brilliance, Mello had never been able to restrain his emotions! – and even almost attacked old Roger. All the while Near had already suspected that L had not come to a decision – otherwise Roger certainly would not have called both of them to his office.
What had been his choice? Mello wanted this grand title, he did not. Yet Near knew for sure that Roger would support his succession.
The old man hated children and thus never had had much contact with his protégés. The only exceptions being Linda, who tended to help him with the administration, and Mello and Matt, who constantly stood in the way of his ideal of a calm and peaceful house. So Roger could base his decision only on their results, what he could certify, and on Mello's behaviour. He would never see Mello's greatness.
So, what had been his choice? He had had to make himself unelectable for L's succession, for Mello would not have accepted to be appointed as a second choice. Even if he had to risk to enanger Mello …
Slowly Near had turned the white puzzle in front of him around, holding it at arms length, and a shower of bright white pieces had fallen on Roger's office's carpet.
"If you don't win the game … if you don't solve the puzzle … you are nothing but a loser."
For a long moment Mello had stared at him completely aghast, and probably could not believe that the phantom he had fought against for so many year would speak of their idol like this.
Then finally Mello had asked the question he had obviously wanted to ask for quite some time now. "But … whom of us did L …"
His voice broke, but the aim of his words had been obvious.
Pitying, almost beseeching, Roger looked at him.
Inter oves locum praesta,
Et ab haedis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.
With thy favored sheep O place me;
Nor among the goats abase me;
But to thy right hand upraise me.
"Mello … Near … I know it's hard to imagine right now, but … if you join your talents … if you'd just work together …"
Near barely could keep himself from loudly crying "Yes!". What an idiot he had been, what ridiculous fool, that he had not considered this possibility! And then? He had infuriated Mello with his thoughtless words.
"I'm fine with that," he had still said, praying to no-one in particular that Mello desired L's post more than he hated Near.
"... I'm afraid that's impossible, Roger," Mello finally said, cold. "You know that Near and I don't get along … it's okay, Roger. Near will be L's successor."
His fingers trembling Near took another puzzle piece from the carpet and put it to the spot destined to it. He did not look up, however this time to hide his tears. Suddenly his life had become a hollow, white hell.
Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis,
Voca me cum benedictis.
Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum quasi cinis:
Gere curam mei finis.
While the wicked are confounded,
Doomed to flames of woe unbounded
Call me with thy saints surrounded.
Low I kneel, with heart submission,
See, like ashes, my contrition;
Help me in my last condition.
The end of the Dies irae's tremendous Confutatis movement interrupted his thoughts and, frightened, he looked up and around the old chapel. There were Linda, choir and orchestra, there was Roger in the first row next to an elderly gentleman in a dark Italian suit that looked suspiciously similar to HRH The Prince of Wales. There was the polished and flower-spangled black coffin, empty of course. There was Matt, looking nowhere close his usual self in a dark suit and without goggles and handheld; he sat in the spot of honour behind Mello. And there indeed was Mello. Still he knelt praying, but Near could see his shoulders trembling. Did he, Mello, determined, clever Mello, really fear that L could be … in hell?
Near could and would not believe that Mello of all people had fallen prey to that delusion called God.
Lacrimosa dies illa,
Qua resurget ex favilla,
Iudicandus homo reus:
Huic ergo parce Deus.
Ah! that day of tears and mourning!
From the dust of earth returning
Man for judgment must prepare him;
Spare, O God, in mercy spare him!
In the evening, when everybody was eating, Near had sneaked into Mello's room. He had been in the room but two or three times, and as before Matt's bed, cabinet and about half of the desk and floor had been strewn with video games, empty cigarette packets – Mello had strictly forbidden his sidekick to smoke in their common room –, started and never finished essays and dirty clothes.
Mello's side of the room however had been perfectly tidy and clean, the bed made, at the top of which hang a tiny crucifix on the wall. On the bed however had been an an open trunk, filled with carefully folded clothing, a few bars of Mello's favourite chocolate, a bible and a paperback of Helen DeWitt's "Seventh Samurai". Next to the trunk were a black backpack – Near had not dared to open it – Mello's mp3-player and his laptop's case with the Wammy's escutcheon sewn on it.
Of course, Near had thought as he moved Mello's possessions aside, nothing would be able to hold him in the orphanage: he would leave the site of his defeats (that had, however, always been Near's as well) before he would take L's office.
Near laid down on Mello's bed, deeply inhaling Mello's scent on sheets and pillows.
Finally he heard steps, voices and laughter from the hallway. Soon those sounds, messengers of a happy life he was even more excluded from than ever, silenced again and for a long moment it had been quiet.
Then there were again steps, forceful and swift. Near quickly rose from Mello's bed and – the door was opened. Mello aghast stared at the albino that uneasily stood beside his bed.
Quickly he recovered. "What do you want, Near?," he had snarled at him, then – slightly hesitated upon seeing his trunk had been moved – took a bar of chocolate from it and freed it from its silvery hull.
"Mello, I …"
Suddenly the elder boy jumped up, grabbing Near by his collar. The chocolate had fallen to the floor. In Mello's face had been nothing but sheer hatred and Near's voice broke. He could only stare at the other boy wide-eyed.
"What? Have you come to revel in my demise? Have you not already taken everything from me?"
For a moment they stared at each other, heavily breathing.
"You … want to leave?," Near finally dared asking.
Pause. A strange look in Mello's celeste eyes.
"Yes," he had then answered. Naturally; there would have been no sense in denying it. The evidence was clear. "Why not? I'm old enough to leave the orphanage. So, what holds me here? Youhave always got what I desired … the best grades, the others' envy … and now even L's succession! By all saints, Near, ohhowIhateyou …"
Near had refrained from pointing out that, if it existed, he would go to hell and that Mello would then be in paradise. That would have lead to an unproductive argue until Mello threw Near out to blow the eardrums of the boys in the neighbouring rooms with Wagner or Death Metal.
Instead he had quietly said: "Mello … I'd like to work with you, at least for the duration of the Kira case. We … you don't even have to see me. You can leave the Wammy's, we can communicate by computer …"
"No."
"No-one would have to know …"
"No."
"We would be..."
"Damn it, the answer's 'no', don't you get it?"
They were silent.
Finally Near had asked tentatively, his head lowered in humility – "Will you at least stay until L is buried?"
Mello had laughed bitterly. "What funeral? The coffin will be empty and the priest won't have a topic for his sermon because no-one from the Wammy's even knew L. What do they want to do – get B from his cell and have him preach? Sorry, I'd like to live on!" Mello had let go of Near, taken the chocolate bar from the floor and taken a bite. "No, there's no funeral for L. His corpse is somewhere on a Japanese graveyard and we can only hope that those idiotic policemen didn't burn him and thus deny him entrance to paradise on Judgement Day. No, Near – this is yourfuneral. Near is dead, now there's only L the second."
"Is it not that that you ever desired? To completely merge into L?"
Mello had only nodded. "But you don't, do you?"
Somehow Near had managed to smile at his rival. "If you want to have the post you only have to say it. But … you wouldn't take it from my hands, would you?"
"Not without a fight." He had laughed lightly – Near loved this laugh. "Who knows … perhaps they'll name me in the same breath as the publisher that didn't want Harry Potter, the producer that declined the Beatles, the Prussian king that refused the German emperorship … But before I die I'll have a rendezvous with Kira, and then I shall avenge L and become his true successor!"
Mello had smiled at him and Near had returned the smile – and for a short moment they had been friends.
"Now what about L's funeral?," Near inquired again.
Mello had unsteadily stared at his rival. "Well …"
"They … they'll play Mozart's requiem …"
The older boy had frowned. "Well, don't know …"
"Linda will sing the soprano," Near beseeched him.
Now Mello had smiled. "Okay," he had said, "I'll come."
Pie Iesu Domine,
Dona eis requiem. Amen.
Lord, all pitying, Jesus blest,
Grant them thine eternal rest. Amen.
The Dies irae, the requiem's sequence, ended, solemnly the priest approached the tabernacle to prepare the communion. Two altar boys marched down the aisle with a collection box – they would not get much; the Wammy's children's allowance was not noteworthy – and the choir intoned the offertory, the choral Domine Iesu Christe and Hostias.
O Domine Jesu Christe, Rex gloriae,
Libera animas defunctorum
De poenis inferni, et de profundo lacu,
De ore leonis,
Ne absorbeat tartarus,
Ne cadant in obscurum.
Hostias et preces tibi Domine
Laudis offerimus;
Tu suscipe pro animabus illis,
Quarum hodie memoriam facimus;
Fac eas, Domine, de morte transire ad vitam,
Quam olim Abrahae promisisti et semini eius.
Amen.
O Lord Jesus Christ, King of Glory,
Free the souls of the departed
From infernal punishment and the deep pit
From the mouth of the lion,
Do not let Tartarus swallow them
Nor let them fall into darkness.
O Lord, we offer You
Sacrifices and prayers of praise;
Accept them on behalf of those souls
Whom we remember today.
Let them, O Lord, pass over from death to life,
As you once promised to Abraham and his seed.
Mello had declared war – him and at the same time Kira. He would, thus had he vowed, definitely identify the killer before Near did so and have him executed as Kira had had countless felons all over the world executed.
Very well then, onwards! He could not fail Mello; even if his own interest in the Kira case was intellectual in nature, he would certainly offer a fight to his rival.
Near had in the past days had long discussions with Roger, and with the help of Matt he had been able to reconstruct most of L's database – the servers and memory of which were in the orphanage's basement, the former treasury of the mediaeval Winchester Abbey, fittingly.
Even now, ten days after having received the message of L's dead, Near had not even begun to review the reconstructed data fragments on the Kira case, though he had – again with the help of Matt who would cooperate with the new L as long as it did not hinder Mello's ambitions – packed L's database and saved it on a USB stick that somehow had found its way to Mello's trunk.
Probably it had been a mistake – but without this data Mello'd had no chance. And the Wammy's might have been formed by rivalry, yet also by the ideal that a victory won by unfair means was none at all, by the will of its founder, Mr Quillish Wammy alias Watari who had been a gentleman with body and soul.
Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis.
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini.
Hosanna in excelsis.
Holy, Holy, Holy,
Lord God of Hosts;
Heaven and earth are full of your glory.
Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.
Kira.
His fight against L would soon have been forgotten after its initial media savvy, had not Kira continued murdering. But even so Kira's murders would soon take a back seat for the people that were not directly connected to the case, just like an ugly painting on the wall that one has been seeing every day for many years yet does not notice.
However the media, especially the Japanese station Sakura TV, had unscrupulously apotheosised Kira – instead of mindless chat shows, gossip and sensationalist news Sakura TV especially hosted Kira's services. The former flagship of the station, the "news show" Sakkai 7, was only relevant as it regularly aired lists of celebrities Kira should kill or – allegedly – already had killed.
And nothing caught the attention of the people of Japan and the rest of the world better than things that were presented on TV, surrounded by shiny lights.
Thus Kira held a great power: no newspaper, no TV or radio station could dare to stand against him.
Near had – out of boredom – gone through a few scenarios on using the internet against Kira. He had already developed plans and in theory everything had been perfect – until he noticed his error, the one that showed his lack of experience concerning human nature, that parted him from L and Mello. Even if he managed to enanger the public against Kira – he was no dictator, he was invisible. No-one one could stand up against. A news embargo? Senseless, it would be a massacre. Increase of the special task force? Too ineffective – Near knew exactly that one could only work alone or in small, handpicked teams. Everything above five, ten at best, investigators was too costly and conspicuous.
On the other hand – why even search for Kira? Of course Near would do it – if just to keep Mello from taking harm. But was it not the truth that Kira was good for the world? He was a walking, breathing, speaking memento mori. He had single-handedly ended all wars and violent conflicts. According to Interpol criminality had decreased by 60 percent in the global average, by trend decreasing.
The reason Near would continue to investigate even if Mello and he were no possible targets of Kira was profane and obvious: he was bored, and would be even more if Kira put an end to criminality.
Near had decided: he would destroy Kira.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem sempiternam.
Lamb of God, who take away the sins of the world, grant them rest,
Lamb of God, who take away the sins of the world, grant them rest,
Lamb of God, who take away the sins of the world, grant them eternal rest.
"Yagami Raito. You are Kira."
Silence. Kira – or was it Yagami Raito? – looked around the huge warehouse, apparently again analysing his position. Near could practically see the thoughts circling in his mind like goldfishes in a bowl in the corner of his eye. Yagami Raito's – or was it Kira's? – look fell on Mikami. Of course, thought Near. To him it would be the obvious to assume a betrayal by his servant.
"You are wrong."
The man looked up and stared at Near. Slowly the albino took the hand puppet before him, the most beautiful of all, the one depicting Mello.
"It is all thanks to Mello. Knowing you this is all you need to add two and two together, right?"
Within a second there was understanding in Kira's – Yagami's? – eyes. Of course, this man was a genius … for a moment Near imagined Yagami growing up alongside them in Wammy's House … certainly Mello would not have hated him, if another had been the first and he, Near, only the second!
Even if Yagami – Kira? – had certainly understood, Near patiently explained it again so that the idiotic policemen and the solicitor might understand. Not that they had to know it – but he really did not want to go over this again.
"Please look carefully at the page before the one with our names written on it. This is the replica we made, but exactly the same as the original … the first line of the left page."
Kiyomi Takada. The woman that had brought Mello's demise. So then Takada or rather Kira himself was the only one to ever truly defeat Mello? For Near had known, even before this ill-fated requiem in the Wammy's chapel, that he had never been better than Mello, whatever he might have believed. Whenever he had taken out one of Mello's pieces, he had grown closer to being checked himself: but had Kira indeed, using only a pawn … checked and mated Mello?
He probably thought so, and he were right – had not some inconsiderate knight, eager to safe his king, moved aside … although pinned to the king.
Checkmate, Kira – Yagami Raito?
It had been Mello to finally defeat him, not himself … Near should have known, should have known that Mello always and even beyond death kept his promises. And thus it was the only logical thing to say –
"Together … we are as able as L. Together we can surpass L. And now … the Kira who L was not able to bring up any evidence against … the Kira L lost to … we have concrete evidence on!"
Hatred burned in Yagami's – Kira's? – eyes and Near confusedly wondered why these words had enangered the murderer like this. Could he not see that Mello and Near had defeated him while L had died? Or … was there something Near did not know?
"If you can talk your way out of this, by all means, please do so," he closed his speech. He did not expect him to – if Kira – Yagami? – wanted to argue – live! – he would do so in court, where he had true chances, where …
But then the young man straightened his back and … began to laugh.
Laughter! Near would have expected anything but this insane, breaking laugh.
"That is correct … I am Kira."
Silent horror from the members of the Japanese task force – had those idiots still not understood? Near smirked. A confession, just what he had needed! Thus the case was flawless. Mello, ever an admirer of L's complete chains of deductions, would perhaps have been content with him.
"In that case, what will you do? Kill me here? Listen. I am Kira, and also … God of the New World!"
Cool self-confidence had returned to Yagami's – Kira's? – handsome face.
"Right now in the world, Kira is law. I'm only preserving the order. This is our reality. At this point Kira represents righteousness. He is mankind's hope."
He whirled around, spreading his arms. For a moment he reminded Near of the flailed figure on the wooden crucifix above Mello's bed in the Wammy's, and quite obviously Kira – Yagami? – was right in calling himself a god after having defeated Mello … but Near never had been one to give in to deities.
"Are you going to kill me? Is that really okay? Catching Kira … in the past it may well have been an act of justice. However, now it is clearly a crime. The people's will has changed. Or is it you just want to feel the personal satisfaction of catching Kira? … It has been six years since Kira's first appearance. War no longer exists, all brutal crimes have nearly died, and worldwide crime has been reduced by 70 percent. However … this our world is still despicable. There are too many rotten people … therefore, the world must be rid of them. Humans always are in the pursuit of happiness, and they have a right to be happy. However, they can't because of the portion of spoiled ones who, abruptly and easily, cut that short. … it's not an accident. It's because of the despicable people who are alive, that it's inevitable.
When I first had the notebook in my hands … no, even before that … the world had sunk to rock bottom. Humanity was as rotten as could be. If you look at it closely, even though there are people looking to become happy, certifying whether they're with or without harm … or if their life has value or not … evil can only produce more evil. The nasty people cause these evil deeds to occur. If this is spread throughout the earth, the weak people will learn from them and become just as rotten themselves, and someday, change their perspective to believe that it's okay.
Evil people … despicable people … they are the ones who should be destroyed. Isn't death the sole remedy for evil which has no salvation at all to begin with? Yet people rot, and do not die. Thus, my approach strikes at the very root of the evil which brought this world about.
The evil are judged. Those who would harm others are judged also. It's taken no more for people's perception to change … They begin to realise the proper way to life as human beings. The right to have happiness … we all possess it equally – no, we're entitled to it. It can't be gained by attacking, defaming, much less killing others. And to not hinder each other's happiness, to give each other the rights and respect they deserve, to strive for each other's happiness – that is how humanity should be.
When the world changes, so do the people … they grow more capable of kindness … those who refuse to renounce their evil ways regardless are not fit to live as humans. As the most gifted living beings on the planet, humans are meant to move forward … yet we've been moving backwards! A rotten world … politics … justice … education … what makes this world right? Yet someone has to …
When the notebook came into my possession, I realised … I had to do it … no … only I could do it! I was well aware that killing people is crime in itself! Yet at the point, it was the only way to make things right! I thought to myself that someday people will come to realise this as much, and regard it as an act of justice! I had no choice but to act as Kira … it was the destiny given to me! I was chosen to renew this rotten world, to bring about true peace – an utopia!
Using this notebook … could anyone else follow through? Come this far? Achieve this objective? Couldn't anyone, with a single notebook, lead the world … lead humanity in the right direction? Only foolish people of low calibre would use it for personal greed, or for themselves. Not once have I considered my own interests! I'm totally different from those that attach their own thoughts onto the weak, and profit from them! It's these villainous people that are the enemy to the world. Yes … only I can do this … to create a new world … standing at the top, guiding them along the correct path. Only I can do it …
Think about it, Near. Do you want to return to a rotten world? Do you want to take back the changing thoughts of the people? Even you should understand. There are people in this world that we clearly would be better off without. If it's justifiable to kill harmful pests … then why is it wrong if I kill harmful people? Is it really best to destroy Kira here? Will it really be beneficial to the world? What will come from arresting me here? Isn't it serving only to satisfy yourself? Isn't it just for the sake of your own ego? If it's just to avenge L, that itself is the stupidest course of action – he loved me.
The one in front of your eyes may be Kira – but he is also the God of the New World!"
Yagami – Kira? – ended his monologue. Looked at Near, waited for an answer.
Near could barely prevent his opponent noticing how many nerves he had hit with his sharp, clever, brilliant words. And yet not one word of Mello! Not even of his own sister, one of the last persons to be in contact with Mello, and that in spite of Near's speculations concerning the Yagami siblings' relationship.
Silence.
But then, slowly, Near put his finger on the the small puppet in front of him that showed Kira, yet not Yagami Raito.
"No," he finally said, "You are … just a murderer. And this notebook is the worst killing device ever in history."
There he stood, Kira – Yagami? – charming and eloquent, tall and of flawless looks, wearing his expensive black suit with natural elegance and perfection. For a moment he, who lived, reminded Near of Mello, who was dead, and he hated Yagami – Kira? – for it.
"If you were a normal person … if you had seen the extent of this tool's power just once, if you had used this notebook just once … you would have been horrified by what can be brought about by it, you would have feared it, and regretted what you had done. And you never would have used it a second time."
How hypocritical of him.
"What I am to say may sound astonishing … I could understand someone who would kill countless people for their personal gains. I would even consider them normal. But you lost yourself to the Shinigami and the power of the notebook … mistakenly thinking you could become God …"
For a moment there was a cynic smirk on Kira's – Yagami's? – face that confirmed Near's assumptions. Of course it had never been more than a symbol – fortunately.
"A crazy mass murder. That's all you are. Nothing else."
His opponent did not answer, but Near doubted he was already broken. He had always had another ace up his sleeve, had always found another way. Certainly there was none now, but Yagami – Kira? – was too self-confident to have accepted that.
"... Near. You're the one that's wrong. I am already Justice."
"That may be so."
Surprise and horror on the faces of the investigators. Did he not know that Kira was evil? – in fact, no.
"What is right from wrong? What is good from evil? Nobody can truly distinguish between them … even if there is a God. Now, supposing a God and his word existed, even then I'd stop and think for myself. I'd decide for myself whether his teachings are right or wrong. After all … after all I'm just like you, concerning that, at least."
Surprise in Kira's – Yagami's? – beautiful face, and Near felt slightly offended. Had his antagonist even deemed it necessary to think about his hunters? … what might have happened if he had?
"I put faith in my own convictions as to what I believe is right, and consider them to be righteous. You are most certainly no 'God', for one, and having you tell people how to lead their lives – and having people live accordingly – is neither peace nor justice as far as I'm concerned. Calling yourself a God and killing people indiscriminately is definitely evil in my book. And what about what others think? What do they believe to be right? What do they feel to be true justice?"
Raito lowered his gaze, apparently regretting – however not his deeds but the alleged necessity of enforcing his will on others and of course his defeat. He looked around the abandoned warehouse, first turning towards the remaining members of the SPK, then towards those of the Japanese Special Task Force. From all sides hard, hating faces returned his look.
Then finally he looked up, as if silently praying to the Gods of Death.
The vast hall was filled with the quiet clicking sound of a single watch, the audible time, unnaturally loud. Slowly his own chronometer counted down Yagami's remaining hours, minutes, and it would not stop ticking – unless Near had been wrong and he was indeed god.
But then he spoke again and in Yagami's – Kira's? – voice there was icy confidence.
"Near!," he called out without looking at him and the albino looked up from the notebook. "You first thought that the fake note Mikami had was the real thing and that it's working. Then, Mikami was forced to use the fake note which you've manipulated. Which means the notes we thought were real, were fakes and both of our mistakes was that we didn't check if the notes were real. Then now, the note here, can you really call it the real thing?
Slowly he took a few steps forwards. His heels were clicking on the concrete floor loud and echoing, a sound of power and confidence.
He stopped directly between the two groups of investigators, looking at none of them, his back perfectly straight. He slowly spread his arms.
"Now you have a notebook, Near, and Aizawa brought the other one from the Japanese investigation headquarters … are they real?"
Near's eyes narrowed and he warily stared at Kira – Yagami? Was he bluffing? Probably, but there was no way to be sure. And if there really was another note … he had lost.
"You've seen Ryuk, so I'll let you know that your note is the real thing. But the one Aizawa is carrying, we kept it in the headquarters … it's easy for me to replace it. If I have done so, then I am the only one who knows if it's the real thing. Already said so – if you want to defeat Kira and to proof that Aizawa's note is real, you should write my name and Mikami's down."
Well, apparently Near had been right: Yagami – Kira? – barely knew anything about him. Now he was really offended. Had he been so weak, so harmless compared to L and Mello? Or had his opponent only underestimated him? After all – he could not just kill this man, this man that was so similar to Mello …
"The notes, it doesn't matter if they're real or not … from the start, my objective was to capture Kira. If everything becomes clear and Kira is caught, it's all right. Well, you are already captured. We'll confiscate the note that Mr Aizawa carries. For now, that is satisfactory. And then we will not publish the things about Kira and the note. Everyone here, I believe you all can keep the secret. And I myself will ensure that you'll be locked in a place where neither eyes nor voices will reach you."
Now there was but one question, one missing puzzle piece: the rules in the back of the notebook. In complete ignorance of Kira – Yagami? – Near turned to the Shinigami, the answers of whom brought no new information, but at least offered a cooperation. Meanwhile his antagonist slowly passed by the other Japanese – Aizawa and Ide stepped aside as if drawn by invisible strings, Matsuda still silently, disbelievingly kneeling on the floor.
"Ah, no harm in trying to see the notes … whether it's real or fake, isn't it? Whether the notes are real … or fake!"
Suddenly there was a tiny slip of paper and a pen in his hand, he began to write down a name!
Screaming, horror. Matsuda jumped up, suddenly holding a gun.
Near turned away his gaze before he even heard the shot. And even as Yagami – for only that he was now – begged for his life, desperate and close to madness calling for his lost followers, he did not look at him, keeping silent.
On Matsuda's second shot he cringed.
Then died Yagami Raito, and with him died Kira, and with him died the man that had been most alike to Mello. Slowly Near rose his right index finger and knocked over the tiny puppet that was Kira like a chess piece.
What had happened now? Kira was defeated, awakened from a nightmare of six years, Mello avenged.
For a short moment Near felt satisfaction …
Only then he saw what would follow: now that Mello was dead and the Kira case solved … the very last straw he could still cling to had disappeared. And his life … had effectively ended that day.
Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine,
Cum sanctis mis in aeternum, quia pius es.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
Et lux perpetua luceat eis.
May everlasting light shine upon them, O Lord,
With your Saints forever, for you are kind.
Grant them eternal rest, O Lord,
And may everlasting light shine upon them.
Please tell me your opinions.