((AN:// Alright guys, a little shorter then normal, I admit. Basically, nobody was online, it was quiet at home, and I was bored out my skull. xD Finally, something without guys kissing! Anyway, enjoy the Mikami-ness, as we simply need more of him.

NOTE: I do not own Death Note. Trust me, if I did, Aizawa would have kept his afro.))

Snow

A fanfiction by Public-Pervert

Mikami Teru looked up from the park bench, his breaths coming up in little puffs of smoke, which melted into the foggy gray sky of that morning. His black glasses kept the small, white flakes of snow falling from the sky from slipping into his eyes, something in which he was very grateful for. Not many people walked by the long-haired man that chilly December morning of 2009, as it was only about seven in the morning. Another good thing to check off his list. So, one would ask themselves, why would he be sitting there? The man was very neat; even his wispy, feathered black hair looked neat, despite it's shape. It was a simply answer, really.

To think.

Yes, to think. Like going to church every Sunday morning, this was a ritual for the man. Unless it was virtually impossible to step out that day (i.e: A hurricane ripping through the streets of Japan), you could always find the man sitting on that exact bench, in that exact park. Mikami Teru was a very smart man, yes, so his thoughts didn't always involve mathematics and politics. Oh, no. Mikami could care less about who was running for president, the stocks, or who got booted off Survivor last week. Why, he wondered, would one have their lives revolve on something so...mundane, so unimportant?

There was only God. Mikami clenched one of the black handles belonging to the bench as his dark eyes kept their lock on the sky. Was God watching? He had heard God's voice, and knew it was justice. So, why didn't he get to see him? Because, he thought automatically, like a computer, That would endanger God. Why would He go through such lengths for me? He wouldn't, he assured himself. He would never want God to be harmed because of him, that would surely kill him, inside and out.

Often, Mikami thought about his mother. To think, she had not been granted the wisdom he had. Were children not supposed to learn off of their parents. Apparently not, he though scornfully. His father had left he and his mother alone when he was about three, leaving him without a single memory of the man that was supposed to be the main figure in his life; his role-model. Now, for all he knew, Mikami's father was the man he had sent off to jail last week who had been charged with arson and first-degree murder. No, that couldn't be right. Surely, Mikami had justice in his blood, and could not bare any relation to a criminal. He was God's follower, and even now he could feel Him smiling down on him, for surely he was special in God's eyes. And God would never allow such a thing to go on in his Kingdom. Oh, no. Kira's Kingdom was going to be perfect in every way. This was something Mikami was going to make sure of.

He sighed again, his breath beginning to fog up his thick-rimmed glasses. His hard glance turned itself away from the gray canvas that the sky was and removed his glasses, polishing them with the sleeve of his gray winter jacket before placing them back on his face, his steady gaze returning to the skies as if he was a hawk, searching endlessly for field mice.

As Mikami turned his head upwards, he felt a nudge at his side, causing him to look down, a solution instantly clicking into his mind when he saw nobody there. A hidden pocket manufactured on the inside of his coat held his most prized solution; the Death Note. Of course, Mikami brought the book with him everywhere- It was a Gift from God, after all. He would be a fool to leave it simply lying around. Feeling that the nudge could only be a religious nudge from God- Go on, T-sama. Please, continue to make your judgments. The black-haired man, feeling no threat of sneaky SPK members tailing him, unzipped his coat to retrieve the black notebook, a pencil taped into the front cover. As he removed the Death Note from his hidden compartment, a smile that some would describe as sick graced his face as his eyes glinted. This...gift, for lack of a better word, was the best thing that had ever happened to him. A newspaper lay at his side, which he opened.

The front cover automatically hit him with the names and pictures of criminals. His dark eyes flashed crimson as, to only him, names like halos fluttered the heads of the pigs he saw in the paper, those who were not worthy of Kira's Kingdom. Daichi Haruki, Hikari Hayato, and a few others graced his eyesight, along with what seemed to be random numbers placed directly under the names. Opening the notebook, Mikami placed his pencil on the page, speaking for the first time that day.

"Sakujo. Sakujo. Sajuko."

As he wrote, the now-red eyes of Mikami Teru flashed devilishly, the smile on his face growing wider. Yes...Yes! This was what he was put on his Earth to do; to serve, to protect all that was right. His old classmates could not see this, he was sure. What could they be doing now? Probably scrubbing toilets, or worse yet, making Kira's world utterly filthy. He, sadly, didn't see that as impossible. To think, he had to spend most of his childhood with those idiotic fools. Even himself, in third grade, could feel the justice rising inside of him . He knew what God was, knew that God would always be there for the Good people, never sparring the Evil.

His mother had not been evil. Oh, no. No matter what his problem, Mikami could always go to his mother to talk. No, never running into her arms and sobbing. He was simply to grown-up for that, even back then. His mother had always told him how smart he was. However, everybody must have seemed smart to her, he realized. For she...she was simply uneducated. How could she not see that Mikami's way was truly correct? His mother, he realized with spite, was simply a fool, as his father had been. However, that didn't matter to Mikami anymore. The past was the past. Both his parents had paid the price for being foolish, one way or another. And he, of yes, he would be the one to clear his name of the stupidity is carried.

He looked at his watch, smirking in delight. Twenty more seconds. This was what he lived for. yes, being a prosecutor was very important to him. His job allowed him to continue his life meaning; delivering justice. However, that was only a small fraction in his life. To be so close to Kira- almost one with him...How could nobody else crave this feeling? Why, even the slight mention of the word Kira sent tingles of pleasure down his spine. And yet, even a few people he saw that appreciated Kira's word, those who were born Good and knew what justice was, didn't talk of their Lord like he did. No. To them, Kira was just a simple thought, a word to be thrown around in between informal conversation."Do you follow what Kira's doing?" "Eh, not really. Now, how about that game last night?" Oh, God. It was enough to make him sick. Obviously enough, they weren't true followers.

Was it becoming a trend? This thought made the prosecutor want to kneel in the snow and die right there. How could that happen? Kira would certainly not like that, so neither did he. These people were all fools. Perhaps, thought Mikami, making it easier on himself, perhaps they were scared. Scared of what Kira could do to them if they were Evil. Only the Good would be sparred; there was simply no room for Evil to exist.

These people obviously did not love God as much as he did.

White flecks of snow fell onto Mikami's head and he looked up, the frost of the morning hitting Mikami in the face like a slap. Oh, yes. He had almost forgotten it was snowing. He looked back at his watch- the criminals were long gone, and this would make Kira smile. For Mikami was, in a sense, the Robin Goodfellow to his Oberon, the jester to the king. Or, rather, the priest to his God. He lived to make God smile. Who didn't? With a little smile,- much less cynical then the one he previously carried, more of a relieved sort- Mikami Teru placed the black notebook in it's proper holding place, tucking it in carefully like a baby, along with the pencil. Folding the newspaper neatly under his arm, Mikami took another glance back up at the sky before heading to work.

Perhaps, he though, Godwas watching.