How Can This Be?
Life, with all its shortcomings, was rather like a game of poker. First comes luck. If a person were lucky, they'd be dealt a great hand from the very beginning, and Light Yagami was certainly one with a great deal of serendipity. He had looks that charmed many a lady, and he was born to a relatively priviledged family as well.
But of course, his greatest asset was always his mind and amazing intelligence, something that perhaps even surpassed the usefulness of the Death Note itself.
All in all, he had everything he need to have a head start against the rest of the world.
However, even with such an advantage, the game could be lost if played in the exact wrong way. Of course, Light was the one chosen to screw up. This was where the poker game analogy ends, though, because there was so much more than that to take into account of.
Near, Mello– even Misa! They all contributed to his ultimate downfall, but no one could be more to blame than... L. That insufferable, arrogant being. He was doubtful that the man was actually human and there was no other way to describe him.
If only he had a second chance, he would show them! The sheer amount of people against him in the Kira case had shifted the odds in their favor, but Light was a person who welcomed– no, it was more of a necessity– challenges, so that wasn't an issue at all.
But... what had been the actual issue? Was it the fact that he lost? For some reason, a feeling of diluted anger burrowed itself into Light's head that he can't seem to shake loose of.
Out of a fit of impulse, which so went against his nature as he tried to refrain himself from performing impulsive acts, Light let loose a loud string of curses.
He then caught himself, noticing something odd– he could speak. This, by itself wasn't particularly extraordinary, were it not for the fact that he was dead. All this time, he had been consumed by his thoughts and never gave any thoughts to where he actually was. A flood of memories rushed back, most from the last few moments before he died. The genuine surprise that a teenager had beaten him, and that Matsuda who messes up everything... But none of that matter now.
Upon realizing that he still had a voice, Light further discovered that all his limbs were still intact, no bullet holes in sight.
Weird.
The oddity of the situation increased when he saw his surroundings. He had been clenching his eyes shut the whole time before and only now opened them. At first, he failed to notice the difference, as the space he occupied appeared as dark as the back of his eyelids. Once he his pupils adjusted to the lack of light, small features here and there became clear.
Wisps of black and gray clouds billowed around him, like drops of ink dumped into water.
Light whirled around, growing slightly anxious, and searched for signs of anybody else, any semblance of a living being.
No, I must remain calm and assess the situation at hand, Light told himself, attempting to keep his composure. Freaking out will not be of any use to me.
Stopping himself, Light retreated into his mind and examined his current predicament. This place certainly wasn't heaven or hell, as the Death Note had made it clear he would not be going to either place. So, somewhere in between? That reminded him...
"Ryuk!" He called out, knowing that the Shinigami would most likely not answer. Ryuk had to be the one who ultimately killed him, there was no doubt in his mind. Light wanted to settle a few scores.
To his great surprise, a voice called back,. However, it did not belong to any gods of death that he knew. Just one word, "Kira!" Nothing more.
Ah, that wretched yet blessed name. One that Light had built up with everything he had, just for it to end up spitting in his face.
No, no, he should stop putting such emotional connotations behind his words. They cloud clear thinking, and clear thinking is what he needs to do right now. However, there was a more pressing matter at hand that requires his attention.
The source of the voice ambled closer and closer, footsteps echoing in the deathly silence. His silhouette became clear and finally, the man stopped a few feet away from light.
"L." Who else could it have been?
L looked exactly how Light remembered him to be, even at the end. Mess black hair spiking in every direction, dark shadows under his eyes, barefoot. Oh, and the sweets. He was holding a large cookie of some sort, and it gave off a tantalizing smell. That's odd. Where exactly could he have acquired sweets in such a forsaken place?
And then, why was he here? How could he have gotten here? There was too much ambiguity. L looked amused at Light's confusion.
So, trying not to appear at a disadvantage, Light remained silent.
This lasted for approximately a minute, with both men glaring at each other, locked in a game of oneupmanship, even after death. Then, L surprised them both by grinning, an uncharacteristic expression for him, and it was slightly unnerving.
Determined to remain unfazed, Light finally spoke, "Are you here to gloat?"
"To gloat? Why would I ever do that?"
Light huffed, impatient , "Because your little clones, Near and Mello, succeeded in killing me. Wouldn't my death be marked down as a victory in your book?"
L laughed drily. "Perhaps that was your greatest mistake, Light, or would you prefer to be called Kira? No matter. Your flaw was looking at my successors as miniature, lesser-skilled versions of myself." He fiddled with the last small piece of cookie. "Even I wasn't naive enough to see them as copies. Near and Mello, they both had their own flair for doing things their own way. With their combined skill, well, sorry to say, but you had no chance."
"So you are here to brag."
"No, you misread my intentions. I was merely stating a fact. Coffee?"
"What?"
"Would you like some coffee?" L asked again, enunciating each word carefully as if speaking to a child who was not familiar with the language yet.
"N - no," Light frowned, slightly baffled at this out-of-place question.
"Well, I would," L said and seemed to produce a cup from seemingly nowhere in particular, filled with the scalding liquid. The other man looked on with an expression that can be best described with the word "what?" as he set the cup down on a table that hadn't been there a second ago and began dropping sugar cubes in it.
One, two, three, four– how many is he going to put in there?
The thought of it made Light's stomach queasy.
"I assume you have a number of questions," said L, stirring the drink with a straw.
Yes, an obvious assumption. He did have many, but the patronizing way that L spoke was very not one that Light would like to request any answers from. It made him just a bit pissed.
After a while with no reaction of any sort from Light, L asked, "Are you sure you wouldn't like some coffee? There's tea as well, if you'd prefer that."
Finally, he caved slightly and ventured a query, anything to digress from this pointless chatter. "And where, exactly, would this hypothetical drink be coming from?" Yes, good. That quesiton did not make him seem desperate or hopelessly clueless. It had the right right amount of casual nonchalance to balance out the seeming simplicity of it. The answer would also give him, in a way, a sense of exactly what this place was.
"Why, in death, anything's possible, right? What is it that people say? 'You just have to imagine'."
Imagining. That wasn't so difficult, especially for Light, whose imagination had pushed him along the road of being Kira. He concentrated and visualized an elaborate building, decorated with famous statues by Michelangelo and Donatello, among other, and a clear blue sky illuminating the scene from behind. No luck.
L chuckled, noticing his futile attempts at materializing objects. With a wave of his hand, he conjured up a chair and rested upon it in his usual odd perch. He was surely showing off.
"Might I add, in order to do this, you actually have to be dead, and you certainly aren't." Before Light had a chance to interrupt with a protest, L continued, "Don't worry, you aren't alive, either. That certainly would not bode well for anyone."
Light scowled, irked at the slight jab. "What do you mean by that?"
L got off the chair (it was more like a bounce, actually) and looked off into the distance. "Walk with me." He began sauntering off.
With some slight hesitation but ultimately driven by curiosity, Light followed.
A/N: The title is inspired by the film "Requiem for a Dream" Please excuse me if I get anything wrong from the canon. Also, my beta, Courubus on here, had said that Light knew he was going to Mu if he were to die, but for the sake of the story, I'm going to write it as if he didn't and tweak some other stuff around.
Hope you enjoyed it and I'd love a review! :)