Hey all! Please Read This!

My first post on Fanfiction-- for this account, anyway. (: I enjoyed writing this, but I had a bit of frustration with it towards the end. This was written as a school project, but I figured, since it was Death Note, and a story, why not share it with the world? But this might not make as much sense as it could if you haven't read "Death Note: Another Note, The Los Angeles B.B Murder Cases", as it is a continuation from that. The project was to add a chapter to the end of the book, and this is what came out from that. Though, it is understandable without having read the book.

Anyway, I'll let you get to reading. (: Enjoy! Reviews greatly appreciated!

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It was over, everything was over now, and Beyond Birthday had lost. Never had he underestimated anyone, let alone what he would have called a foolish tool of L, but he had allowed Naomi Misora to defeat him, to end his so-called brilliant plan. His plan of a life of fearing for L, a life where he feared his own shadow—feared the man who played his game and won against him. So L would be forever searching for a killer who no longer exists, a killer who had murdered himself as his final victim unbeknownst to those who had befriended him.

But his plan had failed, Naomi had discovered his secret in the very end, in those vital few moments, and had foiled Beyond Birthday's plan, as she had saved his life. She had been the one to finally bring down the Los Angeles murderer, and had rescued the citizens from a life of fear. Even though to begin with, very few had anything to fear at all. However in the end, I can't help but wonder if Beyond Birthday had really lost, even though he had been caught, had it not been Naomi who had done it? Had L done anything to help her with those final moments?

But I suppose that's something I'll never know. After all, Beyond Birthday is dead now, suffering from a heart attack in a prison cell. A genius who died like a fool, a man who could have been great, a man who knew you before you could even say hello, had died from simple cardiac arrest.

Then again, quite a few people died like that, from a pathetic heart attack, induced by some simply writing their name down into a book while picturing the victims face. But that's another story—that's my story. If you don't remember, I had told you my name was Mello, and that I was in line to become the next "L". If you were to look throughout this little note I've left behind for someone to find, you'll notice I mentioned the name "Kira" a few times. Kira had been the murderer who killed Beyond Birthday some time after the man's arrest, quite a long time.

Though I've said this is another story entirely, I'm a bragger, so I've got to say, just as... a final little clincher line to the story I've told about my hero.

I will surpass L, and I will be the one who stops Kira, just like L had stopped Beyond Birthday. And just like Naomi helped L, Matt will help me. Not that I need it, but, if I'm going to follow in L's footsteps, I have to start somewhere, and maybe using those tricks of his will be the perfect way.

Now that I've told you one of L's stories, it's time to play my own out. I'll see you on the flipside, when Kira's caught, and I've become "M". M, the one who surpassed L.

Just try and stop me.

Grey eyes closed as they finished scanning the final line, it was the third time these eyes had taken in these words, the third time he had felt the determination his old comrade and rival had felt as he had prepared to fight against Kira.

"Mello..." it was a teenage voice that cracked under the strain of contemplating the author's words. "So determined, weren't you? You fool. Hadn't you known that I was to be the one to succeed L?" The grey eyes seemed to grow colder than they already seemed, a smile forming on the baby-like face. "I am Near, the successor of L, and you are Mello, the one who died in the process. Killed by the hunted, the hunter failed." Near placed the book on the floor beside him, his pale hand shaking for reasons the genius boy couldn't fathom.

Near glanced around at his toys, his toy planes and action figures, and finally at his finger puppets shaped like those who revolved in the world around him. Kira torn into tatters, Matt punched through with holes, Takada burned to cinders in a pile of ashes, and Mello, burned as well, almost beyond recognition. The blonde's puppet lay beside Near's, the white haired puppet seeming to look down upon the other, degrading and sorrowful.

"You hated me, didn't you?" Near asked the air around him, glancing as if he expected an answer, and sighed when no voice returned his call, he had done this many times before, called to the Mello he once knew, even though the other male was dead. "You could have been someone you know, Mello, someone great, but you let your hatred for me get in your way. You let Kira defeat you, because you were so focused on defeating me." Near smiled, chuckling to himself. "I never hated you."

The white haired boy stood awkwardly, staring at his toys he hadn't touched for quite some time, his powerful mind raking through the memories he had of his blonde rival. Near remembered them each in detail, from the moment he and Mello had met when they were barely out of the toddler age until their final meeting, where the blonde chocolate lover's gun had been pointed at the dull eyed boy.

"You hated me, but you didn't shoot me then, when you had the chance, why is that? Having known you, I would guess it was that you didn't want to lose the low probability that I could have failed in catching Kira, making you the victor." Near was merely mumbling now, speaking so low even his own ears could barely hear his words. "But it's something more, there's something missing to that. Violent and rash, yes, but there was something deeper to you, Mello."

Near's eyes swivelled to the little book, finally leaving the burnt, blonde haired doll, and he walked to it, once more picking up the only thing Mello had left behind. "A legacy of the man we'd tried to become. You weren't the type to read or write often, so why write one of L's stories in your own words?" Near frowned, Mello had always been the one person whose motives he couldn't read correctly. The blonde had purposes so farfetched, or so unreal that the white haired boy could hardly fathom his reason for doing them. "Was it simply to brag to me? To tell me you had known more than I did about L?" Near frowned heavily, his eyes narrowing slightly in self doubt, angry at himself for his little understanding of the late blonde, wishing he could only figure out what had been running through his rival's mind when he had decided to write such a book. "No, that wasn't it, was it? To go so far just to prove you knew just a bit more? That's not you, not in such a roundabout way, if that was the case you would've told me you knew something I hadn't and left me to try and ponder what it was."

His grey eyes closed in irritation, his expression a mere scowl now. Mello had always made his mind numb; he had never understood the chocolate loving Wammy boy. He slowly shook his head, allowing the book to fall carelessly from his hands once again, listening as it clattered against the floor, and then noticed something odd. A folded piece of paper rested on the floor beside his sockless foot, and at first he merely blinked at it before realizing the only place it could have come from was from Mello's book.

The boy quickly kneeled down, his hand and fingers shaking as he touched the aged paper, quickly picking it up and stretching back into his hunched over stature. His shaky fingers hastily unfolded the paper, holding it almost as if it was going to fire a bullet towards him when it was finally reopened. Near shook the thought away, and flipped open the final fold, almost smiling when he was reassured it was only words on the page.

Near,

I know you're reading this; you're the only one who would have gotten to that book. I wish I could see your face right now, you brat, I know you're confused. You could never understand me, could you? Well, good, because I liked it that way—I had a higher chance of beating you at your own game.

But I didn't win, did I? If you're reading this right now, I must have failed. And if I've gone down there's no competition for you anymore, you've become the next L.

Near paused in his reading, suddenly confused, Mello had written a note in case he had failed in catching Kira? "This isn't like you, Mello." He muttered, almost irritably, and he wondered if this was Mello's intention, to make him even more confused.

How does it feel, I wonder, to have won? You're probably thinking I've lost my mind right about now, aren't you? I don't blame you—this must not seem like me. But I feel like I should do this, after all, after I'm dead this can't hurt me. Though I'd prefer to cause confusion in your life whenever you glance at that book, for some reason, I want to explain myself.

That book is something I took upon myself to write, and believe you me, it took awhile. I can already tell what you're thinking about it. That I wrote it simply to say I knew more than you—but you don't believe that, do you? You're not the only one who notices things about others, Near, I can see things just fine, but I turn a blind eye. You know there must have been reasoning behind what I've written, but you can't figure it out.

Near scowled again, he had never taken Mello to be the noticing type; the older male had always seemed to just act, regardless of the people around him. The white haired boy had never figured that Mello had ever taken a second glance at him, let alone scope him out and learn what he was thinking.

In Wammy house, Near, I watched you carefully, and I learned more about you. I learned what you did and didn't like, and what you would and wouldn't do. And because of that I learned your limits; I learned more and more about you, I studied you. Because I could sense that you could surpass me, or had already done so. I was number one until you rolled in, and then I was blown out of the water, off of my throne and into the joker's seat.

You aggravated me, always playing with those stupid toys, building those castles of dice, ignoring everyone around you. But at the same time, Near, you impressed me. You had come out of nowhere and beaten me down a level, though all you did was play, your test scores were top notch—unbeatable. You were the ultimate rival, and I was almost glad to see you every day, anti-social and stoic, and I would try and throw you off, but it never worked.

I could do anything, and it wouldn't affect you. You would wave me away, ignore me, and then beat me grade-wise. I had even gone as far as to hit you, but you did absolutely nothing—you were the perfect rival. So I did everything I could to... Fight you, in a way. I wanted to be better than you, to succeed L instead of you.

But for some reason I always failed. No matter what I did, you did it better. And now with the Kira case...

Near's eyes widened in a shocked manor, this wasn't like Mello, this wasn't him. But this was his handwriting, wasn't it? His messy scrawl Near had noticed so many times on tests he had thrown carelessly onto the ground directly in front of the white haired boy?

...I have a feeling that I'll fail again. No, not a feeling, I know it, I know I can't win against you, Near, but that doesn't mean that I'll stop fighting. I'll fight you until the day I die—right until that final breath, you got that you jerk?

This hurts my pride to say, but I want to congratulate you, Near, I want to say you've done a good job. You've beaten me, as well as Kira, and have succeeded in becoming who we all wanted to become. I'm sure even L would be proud of you—he always was, wasn't he? He taught you more than he ever taught me—but he shared a story with me. He told me something he didn't tell anyone else in Wammy House. It was the story you've just read. It was the only thing I could hold above you, and now that's gone too.

And that's okay, I'm gone now, a story won't do me any good. Revel in this, Near, you've finally beaten me! But I won't drag this on any longer.

Near's heart crashed against his chest, and he was almost begging the words not to end, to keep going.

I've only got one more thing to tell you, and from my view, it's something you really need to know, Nate Rivers.

Near blinked at the use of his real name, clenching his jaw at the fact that Mello had known so much about him, and the white haired boy himself didn't seem to know even half as much about the blonde. But Near continued reading Mello's final words to him, the final words his rival wanted him to see.

Near dropped the creased piece of paper, his mouth agape and his eyes wide, nothing had ever shocked him before, but this had done it. Mello had finally surprised him, and the stone-eyed boy felt tears brim in his large grey orbs. "I misjudged you, Mello." He mumbled, wiping at his eyes and staring blankly at the salty drops on his fingers before smiling a sad smile. "I was wrong."

I've never hated you.

-Mihael Keehl,

The one and only Mello.

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Well, that's that. What did you think? And yeah, don't think I'm not aware that Near is out of character. I know he is. But deep down he's got emotions like that, he just can't use them-- and all things considered he was confused as to why he was crying anyway. XD

Peace,

W.A.R