Naive.
Mikami had always remembered his mother's words. They echoed through his head over and over like a broken record.
Why do you fight Mikami? Children aren't supposed to fight. You shouldn't involve yourself in it. What do you think you're proving? This is foolish.
He lowered his head every time he thought of her. It was the most unnerving feeling ever. Stupid woman. He was filled with rage knowing that she wanted him to ignore what he believed. Her death was nothing compared to every fight he endured all those years ago.
Mother. You had no idea.
Elation.
Untroubled sleep was a rarity for Mikami. The idea of lingering stillness made him fear the memories which were perfectly capable of attacking him during deep contemplation. It was difficult to ignore the visual images of his past. His knuckles whitened at the thought. A few things in life put him at ease. One was music.
It was midnight and Mikami had been pacing his room after failing to sleep through the night undisturbed. Sweat was dripping off his forehead. He always felt feverish at night. He unbuttoned his shirt and splashed water onto his face.
He then placed a record onto his player. The classical melodies began erupting out from the speakers. He smiled slightly and pulled his shirt off, laying back down on his bed, closing his tired eyes.
The orchestral notes and symphonic tunes spun throughout the room, entering his eager ear with every harmonious sound. His steady breathing was in time with the music and his chest rose up and down with the beat.
This was his untroubled sleep.
Sense.
Since Mikami had been granted the duty of the death note he never failed to stop writing down names. It was like a drug for him. The high of having this chance to make a difference. And the timing could not have been better. His nights were no longer wasted.
delete. delete. delete.
And yet every night he felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach.
It was on this night that he realized what it was. Justice.
Ignite.
Mikami was a very classically composed sort of person. The anger of his mother's ignorance and the unspeakable actions of his attackers as a child was buried deep down inside of him, like a ticking time bomb.
It inevitably detonated.