This is my first Death Note story. It references Shakespere's work in some places, however it might be hard to see. I wouyld like criticism and any other comments. And, yes, I know it's rather short...
Kira supposed he could be a soldier, or to say, he already was. A fighter for justice, peace, and the only side of good, there was no better occupation for one such as him. Perhaps that term determined that a war is needed, for what is a soldier without cause? But, how could one fight what is inherently good? How many supported the Kira, who saved the lives of the innocent, who prevented major crime from ever taking the world, who was a hero worthy of having his name called in the squares so that his name was always there, a comfort for all people who inhabit the earth? But he truly preferred to be called the judge, as it was the true calling that he was set upon.
Kira was the true judge among all of humanity. He knew of no other who could bring punishment to so many others and with no bias. A god, god of what is right. His rulings were leading people to a new age. No one else had done that. Then again, no one else had quite used the Death Note the way he chose. He was the only one intelligent enough to use the notebook to its full extent, and so it was his right to judge others as a god. His right. No one else's. L was a foolish imposter, faking his good intentions to bring chaos back into the world. How he despised him.
What good does he think that he can do, anyway? He was the student still dragging his schoolbooks reluctantly, unable to let himself accept the brilliance of the Death Note. Still a child, no matter what his age. He was a tiger, no a kitten. Batting at mother's tail with a paw filled with potential, he was such a lost. If only he was only on his side of justice, then the world will be theirs. Kira, L, it would such a potent mix. It would never come.
How Kira despised that person. His foolish ways, his exasperating ways, all boiling down to, "Another donut, please." The damned way of sitting, most people's backs would have a lump in their spines by then. Yet, he still had the flexibility to play tennis proficiently, even surprising him at his speed. He should be dead by now, with more sugar in his veins than water. His sweet tooth was insatiable. He… He defied all logic. He should gone, destroyed, erased! Yet, unknown. His great method of escaping, by becoming only a face in a crowd, still beat him.
Sometimes, Kira was scared. Something reminded him of a far ago time, when he still relied on his parents for teaching the world to him. Then there, deep inside of himself, was a person whose name was Light. It shattered Kira, to remember a Light deep inside, and remember this was a mask created from blank, white pages of death. When a shinigami came down to the earth, he gave power for amusement. Apples became currency for a world that no human stepped in before. And slowly, the book wrapped itself over and over a person named Light Yagami. Kira was the name of the paper man, Light was gone. L changed that.
L reminded him of Light. A poor innocent boy whose dream was to make the world a better place, Light was a schoolboy. And when Kira looked, their faces blended together, to form one of humane justice. Then, there, was when Kira scared. The two of them were to be killed, for the protection of him. It was too opposite, and too close for comfort. Far and near, that one face haunted his dreams. For what if it was the god that he was? The mask came closer, cutting into skin, joining paper and body. Kira couldn't afford to look back.
When all the world's a stage, people can afford to improvise as no one else could know their lines. But that was impossible for the judges, as they must plan each action with consideration for the world around them. One judge was never known. One judge was gone from this world. The baby, the schoolboy, the lover, the soldier, the judge, and finally an old man came to them with their stories and their lives. Each judge took them into themselves, and lived their lives according to their ways. And they finally stared down at each other with stories of a hidden self reflected in their eyes. L. Kira. So it goes, sans cover, sans mask, sans life. For life is but a play, and everyone needs their mask.