Death Note: Absence
Summary: A DN Christmas fic. Post58. Raito pays a friendly visit to an old enemy—for, after all, Christmas is the season of forgiveness, and Kira is a forgiving entity
It was Christmas.
It did not really mean anything for Raito, now that he had the Death Note and was flushed with the heady emotions of triumph and satisfaction; he felt nothing for an occasion that celebrated the birth of a symbol when he was nearly one himself. The power of life and death was in his hands, and his name—Kira— was the one upon many lips that moved in prayer in the night—he had belief, and faith, and that was all it took really, to make a god of a mortal.
(Deep inside, in a dark jealous place in his heart he sometimes thought of hymns sung in his name, festivals, sacrifices, the foolish teeming believing masses bowed to him, and the dream made him smile. Other times he was mildly annoyed at the power of his imagination. If he was horrified he admitted it to no one, not even himself.)
In a spirit of magnanimity (a god could afford to show respect to a fallen rival, especially to one as challenging as L), he showed up at the small, simple grave with a bouquet of flowers (white, the petals soft as fallen snow, as his pale lips). The air was cold and biting and it drizzled in intermittent intervals, painting the day in gray, muted colors. Raito did not wear his best suit because it would have been ruined. Instead, he wore a loose shirt and slacks—a nod, perhaps, to his rival's distaste of formality.
"It's been boring with you gone," he told the grave, setting the flowers down with elaborate care. His hands lingered for a moment on the cold stone, as thoughts of the grave's occupant flittered like restless birds in the forefront of his mind. "Sometimes," he said, "I think I should have left you alive. But you were too dangerous—"
Raito broke off and shifted his shoes deliberately, relishing the thought of L beneath his feet, defeated finally and forever, a rotting thing of no further consequence, reduced from flesh and suspicion to dust. (That mind, as brilliant as his, but ultimately proven his inferior, gone—it was almost a waste. Almost. ) "A martyr, L," he sneered, "Memories and regrets. That's all you've become, for daring to question the will of a god."
There was no answer. Of course there should not. But Raito still shivered when a brief, chill breeze blew past, rustling the leaves of the overgrown bushes and stirring the fine hairs on his arms. The trees whispered in the wake of its passing.
"I won't go so easily," he said, and it was a promise, intended for ears that could no longer hear him. Raito spoke for the L that could have been and never would be, the L that had earned a niche in his library of memories. "One day," he vowed, "One day the whole world will celebrate my coming, and they will worship me for the peace and hope that only I was able to reward the deserving with." He smiled, a dark pull of his lips. "They will call me God."
Ryuk's hoarse laughter split the air like the harsh caws of a crow. Raito turned away disdainfully, brushing the dirt from his knees. He looked back over his shoulder, hands on his collar, and smiled again—only this time it was a sweet, innocent smile, one more suited to an angel's face than the visage of Kira.
"Oh, but I forgot. I came here to say—Merry Christmas, L," he said gently.
"After all, Christmas is the season of forgiveness."
Author's Note: 25/12/06: Waah, Christmas is only one hour away from ending and I only just finished this now. Shouldn't have gotten absorbed in my Hikago stuff again…
Anyway, hoped you liked this. Wish y'all a Merry Christmas too, to those whom it concerns.