My first fanfic so please be kind. ^_^
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Death Note or any of the characters (except the ones I made up, of course). =)
Matsuda the Brave
Chapter 1
Everything was black. There was no light whatsoever.
Light….Oh, yeah….I almost forgot…Light….
"Matsuda! Who the hell do you think you're shooting at? Don't screw with me!"
Then there was vision. There was a vision of Light, his right hand injured from a gunshot, blood running down in dark red streaks. Then he remembered. He remembered that he was the one who had shot him, that Light had confessed to being Kira, and he remembered that he had been in such shock that he couldn't even stand. He had fallen to his knees, right into a puddle of all things. His eyes had gotten so wide he thought they would pop right out of his skull and roll onto the floor. Then he'd be looking up at himself, at how pathetic he looked, sitting in a puddle on the floor.
It faded to dark again. He wished it would stay dark, so that he would never have to see Light's face again, or the chief's, or anyone from that day or from that horrible, god forsaken case.
However, much to his discontent, he received yet another image.
He was standing now, hot tears streaming down his face.
"What was it all for then?" As he screams, he starts to lose his sight, not because of the tears clouding his eyes, but because of the pure anger and fury. "What about your dad? What the hell did he die for?"He started to lose his hearing too. He missed the first part of Light's answer, but got the gist of it.
"…You want to live in a world where people like him are made to be fools? I know you understand….Shoot them!"
He couldn't, refused even, to believe that Light, the chief's son and someone he most admired, was telling him to shoot his friends. Even his name meant something beautiful and bright, the total opposite of dark and evil, the total opposite of what Kira was. Light had said it himself and yet….No, he had to be imagining it…right? Maybe this was all his imagination's doing: Light being Kira, the past six years of investigating and trying to capture him, all of it. Maybe this was all a sick and twisted part his mind showing him some demented nightmare. Maybe he hit his head and was in a coma and would wake up in a hospital bed surrounded by his friends and flowers and none of this was real.
"You led your own father to his death, and now he's gone you call him a fool?"
He'd heard about things like this, seen them in movies, how the rage becomes so unbearable that the person would actually black out or become incoherent of what they were doing. He never thought he would have to deal with that, not like this anyway, not because of Light.
Light had taken out a piece of the Death Note, and started to write a name with his own blood.
It's ironic that Light would use the thing that gives life, to try to take one away- his, he assumed, since he was the one that made him bleed in the first place.
There were four more shots that rang out, successfully piercing, Light Yagami – no, Kira. He realizes, barely, that he's the one firing them. He never knew he'd had this kind of indignation, almost a kind of power, inside of himself. He felt about ready to explode.
Light was now flung back on the floor of the warehouse, splashing as he landed in a rather large puddle, which was now swirling with his blood. This young mass-murderer that many in the world considered to be a god was now helpless, whimpering, and calling out for help, like an injured animal.
"…Someone…Anyone….Misa! Where's Takada?" He was crying now, not wanting to accept defeat.
He was rushing over, taking long, anger filled strides to where the boy had fallen and was now panicking and in pain. "I'll kill him! I'll kill him! He has to die!" He looks Light in his eyes and points the gun at his head.
Darkness….
The bang of the gun echoed throughout the Yellow Box warehouse.
~x0xOx0x~
Matsuda gasped loudly as he sat up in his bed. He was in a cold sweat and panting in short, quick breaths, his sheets tangled around him. He could still feel the gun in his hand, the way it felt to shoot his former friend, who, for so many years, betrayed them, killing people behind their backs, all while pretending to help catch the murderer. There were tears that he still let fall, some dripping onto his hands as he stared down at them in the dark.
Matsuda took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "The same nightmare again…" He glanced over at the electric clock that gave off a faint green glow on his bedside table. It was a little past three in the morning.
He was glad that his friends had been there to hold him back, just in time. His bullet missed Light's head by mere inches. They were all given a month's vacation to settle down and get their heads straight. But Matsuda felt as if he could never do that. He would never be the same again, no matter how hard he tried.