Perfect Imperfection
Misa wrote slowly. Not normally, but this time she made an exception. She was careful about it, too. She wanted it to be perfect. Because Raito-kun was perfect. And if Raito-kun was perfect, then his name should be written perfectly—the kanji for "moon" and the kanji for "night" and "god." How unusual, but how fitting. Perfect.
The calligraphy pen she was using—because Raito-kun was beautiful, so his name should be written beautifully—slipped slightly in her sweaty hand, and it smudged the second kanji. A snarl twisted her face, and she felt disgusted by herself.
No wonder Raito-kun was always annoyed by her. She was an imperfection. She couldn't do anything right. She couldn't even make Raito happy even though he was chained to that dumb, creepy detective. Good girlfriends could make their perfect boyfriends happy under any circumstances.
But she couldn't.
She ripped the paper out of the notebook (Not the Death Note, of course. She couldn't write Raito-kun's name in there—never Raito-kun) and allowed it to flutter harmlessly to the floor. She glared at it, but it made no move to burst into flame so that the world could be rid of yet another imperfection.
Look at her! Here she was, trying to help Raito-kun make a perfect world, when she was just adding to the imperfections! She snatched the harmless piece of paper from the floor, balled it up, and set it into one of the hotel room's many ashtrays. She pulled a box of matches from the bedside table's drawer, and proceeded to set the small ball of paper on fire.
The small flames engulfed the paper ball until it was nothing but ashes. More imperfections in a world full of imperfections. Disgust welled up in her again. Could she do nothing right?
She picked up the ashtray, dumped it into the garbage can near the door, and felt marginally better.
As she made her way back to the room's one desk, she picked up her pen, which must have rolled off the desk when she got up. She sat down, and started to write again.
Yagami Rai-
The kanji smudged, and her face was twisted into another sneer again. Raito was perfect. He had no flaws, and he was working to turn the world into a utopia. So why could she not write his name the way it deserved to be written? Raito wasn't an imperfection.
She was.
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I've got nothing to say about this, really. I was bored, and wanted to write a little about Misa, and about how she must view herself in comparison to Raito-kun. Really, I must confess, it's just good to finally be able to use my laptop to write again!
Well, whatever, review, flame, do nothing in particular, just don't ignore me. Acknowledge this, whether openly or not, as existing.