(A/N) Today I will write something that isn't Zaku. Today I will write about characters that no one has cared about for years. Today I will write about Mikami, the lovely little freak. I hope this story can live up to my others- I'll try my hardest! ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ

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It was a Tuesday, the day he received a package from God. Ever since he read about Kira's judgment of Earth in the newspaper, he had longed for a confirmation of his suspicions about his value. Teru Mikami, the tall, stoic pillar of righteousness, piety, and devotion, ached for the recognition of the only being he respected more than he did himself— God. He was already aware of his gift and his mission. The former was an astute ability to judge the humans with which he came into contact. Good and evil, pious souls and heathens were as clearly separate as night and day to Teru Mikami. Stains of black upon the pure white masses were as easy to extract as a rotten cherry from a live stem. The latter truth of which Mikami was aware was the fact that he and only he was fit to cleanse the world of these dark blots—to eliminate criminals and evil men from the world. That was why, when Mikami received a package in the mail without a return address a week and two days after he completed the questionnaire from Kira's Kingdom, he finally felt as if he might be put to use in the fashion for which he was destined. He had already made eye bargain with the shinigami. Half his life was a small price to pay if it meant he could be of further assistance to God.

He slipped his glasses from his face and found that his eyesight was sharper than it had ever been. He stared through his television screen, into the face of the man who brought shame to Kira's immaculacy. It was with relish that he wrote his first name in the thin, black notebook.

HITOSHI DEMEGAWA

With the last flick of his pen Mikami hissed out a prayer to Kira— "sakujo." Eliminate. His chest strained in a way that it hadn't in so long when Kira's Kingdom was interrupted by the thud of the fat man's body hitting the floor off screen. The set dissolved into chaos, and Teru Mikami smiled like he never had before. At long last, God had found His rightful disciple. Without another word, Teru Mikami fell to the task of eliminating evildoers. He did so calmly, efficiently, and allowing no outward sign of the violent glee that surged through his blood, strengthening with every pounding beat of his heart.

He would have rather waited for a sign from Kira, and had asked for one during a broadcast of Kira's Kingdom, but after the notebook and initial instructions God had sent him nothing. Mikami decided, with trepidation, that if he did not receive direction within a certain number of days he would take matters into his own hands. Kiyomi Takada was the supposed spokeswoman of Kira's message, so one night he threw caution to the wind and called her in the hopes of relaying a message to God. Imagine his surprise when he found himself on the phone with Kira Himself—speaking to him, the mere mortal Teru Mikami, from a hotel within the boundaries of the same city. His voice, oh, His voice. Even marred by phone lines and static and breath, it pierced Mikami right to the core. He sounded younger, more alive, but despite that the tone was low and arresting. Clutching the telephone and fighting to remain calm, Mikami conferred with God and received his orders.

The following week found Teru Mikami consumed in the new and all-important task of bringing criminals to justice. He made it the first thing he did in the morning and the last thing he did before he went to sleep every night, and sometimes he became so engrossed in his task that he would neglect the rest of his routine. He had spoken to Kira on a Wednesday. On Thursday, he was so busy writing that he didn't have time for his daily trip to the gym. The Saturday after that, he skipped dinner because he was too eager to begin that night's work. However, no matter what it made him miss, using his power to cut the cancer from society put Mikami at ease. That was the happiest he had been in months. In years. In all his life. Performing God's work made him feel closer to the voice he'd heard on the phone that night. The distinctive voice that still fluttered around his head like a guardian angel. Writing in the Death Note before he began his day would put Teru Mikami in such a wonderful mood that nothing that happened that day could possibly annoy him. The nights, however, were different.

After he finished his sheet of names for the evening, Mikami would gently close the notebook, place it lovingly in his desk's bottom drawer, undress, and slide between the crisp covers of his bed. There, lying in the smooth darkness while his body warmed the sheets beneath him, God's voice would pound deafeningly inside his head. It would repeat their phone conversation, but after a few days it began to say other things.

Teru Mikami.

"Yes, Almighty!" Mikami's voice was but a reedy squeak compared to the boom of his God's, even when he sat up in bed, thrust his arms into the air, and yelled.

You are my disciple. My right hand. Your duty to me is worth more than your life.

"I am honored, God- I will serve you until I die!"

You are the only man in the world who is worthy of my attention.

"God!"

You are the only man I will ever love.

"God-!"

And Mikami would lie on his back, covers and hair a mess around his heaving body, and bask in the echoes of Kira's voice fading, fading away into sleep.

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Next chapter in a few days, hopefully! It'll be longer and saxier than this one- I just felt like I had to lay down some foundations first, y'know? But yeah next chapter will defer from the story because gay stuff. c: