Sayu Yagami subscribed to the church of normality and the uneventful.
She had heard there were other churches; greater faiths than hers. These tall towers stood upon stilts above her head, in order that they might buy a miracle from their gods. She'd strain her neck to see them, standing above her, waving down so that she might come up and view the cosmos for herself.
(Most towers, Sayu found, collapse under their own weight)
They asked her about Kira.
Well, why not? It was the favored conversation for the intellectual party, newer than Machiavelli, more powerful than Napoleon. Kira's been dead for a few years now, but he still could make flirting men look smart.
(It's not that she was a cynic; she just didn't see the excitement in it.)
Kira. Killer. Messiah. Savior. Corpse.
They'd said most of it already. She supposed that she was a little bit different, the daughter of two men not killed by or for Kira but rather against him. It was a little different when one realized that Kira himself was not responsible for all evil that followed in his wake.
(Kira was not Demegawa, not dead policemen, not serial murder, not public television, not L, and not God.)
People didn't listen to explanations like that, so she simplified.
She'd smile at these parties (with these bright eyed eager young men with their cheap intellectual beer) and say that she didn't pick a side when it came to Kira. This always baffled them, how could you not pick a side?
She'd say it was difficult, taking a sip from her own glass to rid herself of the memory of her brother's glassy eyes. Most people tried, seeing the pitfall she did, but most people failed.
Matsuda had tried, poor Matsuda, he was still trying. He'd try to call her (she'd hang up) and on the voice mail she'd hear his pathetic voice declaring that he no longer knew what to do. Matsuda had lately taken to courting the bar scene, in search of some solace at the bottom of his never ending glass. Sometimes she wished him luck, but most of the time she wished he had never been born.
Misa had jumped from the roof of what Matsuda had called "Head Quarters" without a parachute. (Sayu had attended the funeral and she had looked for Light's bowed head among the mourners. He didn't come.)
She hadn't seen the other policemen, her father's friends and brother's allies, but she was certain that they too faced the choice.
There was an illusion, a desperate illusion, that one must choose a side.
(So choose Sayu.)
Kira was a black hole. The closer one came to the event horizon, that zone of miracles called salvation praised Kira be, the more it pulled and tugged on one's essence. Once pulled in there was no escape, no light, only a descent into the bone crushing marrow of the universe. That was the house of God.
There were no choices left at the event horizon.
So saith Takada Kiyomi, Amane Misa, Matsuda Touta, and Yagami Sayu.
Sayu ducked her head and prayed in the safe confines of the church of normalcy and the expected. She suspected that her mother had done the same, they never discussed it. Losing both a son and a husband made it hard to discuss many things with her mother, still the black hole tugs.
She watched the towers of faith crumble and fall and contented herself to watch out for the rubble that might fall on her own head. Best not climb at all.
Don't answer at the parties; Kira isn't worth his own idle rumors. Don't look at the pictures of lost brothers and fathers, they don't fade with time. Don't visit the graves. Don't speak of things best left forgotten with mother. Don't acknowledge the things that are best left dead.
Just bow your head and don't look up.
Author's Note: A very short one-shot that I found after digging through some old files. It probably was intended to be longer, have some sort of plot in there, but I couldn't remember it and liked it well enough to publish it up here anyway. I haven't given Sayu enough attention really, she deserves a little one-shot here or there.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note