Disclaimer: Sparrow and Bialy don't own Death Note and are making no money off this.
Bialy's note: Okay...so I pestered Sparrow about not putting this up before I could put an AN on it and now I can think of nothing to say o.o This is a collab story by me, Bialy, and Maelstrom Sparrow, based after the four year gap (though some elements take place within it) in the Death Note timeline. There may still be some issues to work out because it's a...well, it's an ambitious plot considering I personally have never written anything much beyond one shots. We're working on covering up any holes in the plot but...don't shoot us if there are a couple to begin with? Anyway...I'm rambling now. Here's the story.
Sparrow's note: MAHA! There are no plotholes! epic pose (Don't worry Bialy, I've never written much past oneshots either XD) Hope you guys enjoy :D
War Paint
Chapter One: Tuesday
November 5th 2004. The detective known as L is killed by the power of the Death Note.
January 10th 2005. Mary Kenwood, the second Kenwood daughter, dies in a motorcycle accident in Colorado, USA.
April 7th, 2005. With his family at his side, Thierry Morello succumbs to liver cancer in a hospital in Paris, France. Mary Kenwood and Thierry Morello, along with their alter egos, Wedy and Aiber, are vanquished to the darkness.
April 10th 2005. Yotsuba group employees die of heart attacks. Stock plummets.
May 1st 2005. L requests that all police and media refrain from making suspected criminals' faces public. Soon after, information on criminals begins to flood the internet.
June 17th, 2007. A number of minor countries, as well as Russia, the United Kingdom and Japan, publicly accept Kira's word as law.
October 31st 2007. A young man calling himself Near approaches FBI Director Mason with information regarding the Kira case. A meeting with the President of the USA is arranged.
November 3rd 2007. US President David Hoope agrees to establish a secret organisation to continue the Kira case after meeting with Near, and makes statements on television to this effect.
November 4th 2007. US President David Hoope is killed by the power of the Death Note.
December 13th 2007. America accepts Kira. The governments of those countries that have not accepted Kira fall into chaos. The world slips into a regime where Kira is the law and guiding light.
March 21st 2008. Hitoshi Demegawa stars in the television programme 'Kira's Kingdom'.
April 2009. Light Yagami, age 23, enters the NPA and is assigned to the Intelligence and Information Bureau.
May 11th 2009. The ICPO meets and agrees to support Kira. Internal resistance is repressed. Groups opposing Kira are outlawed. Anti-Kira television or radio broadcasts, and publications, are banned. The crime rate falls. People all over the planet kneel to Kira.
-
The world was changing.
True, Matsuda thought, as he bit the end of his pencil and frowned down at the list of names in front of him, the world had always been changing, but it had been changing…differently, lately. He shook his head when he realised that didn't make sense, and was glad he hadn't said it aloud. He looked over the names again, realised that he wasn't making any progress, and decided to ask Aizawa. He turned, apologetic expression already in place -
- but Aizawa wasn't looking at his own papers, or even a computer. He was staring at Light.
Aizawa thought Light was the reason they weren't making any progress. That's what he'd told Matsuda, when he'd asked him yesterday about the staring. Matsuda had been confused - surely their best and brightest mind was helping them? - until Aizawa sighed, leant back against the wall, glanced at the door, and told him he thought Light was Kira.
At the time, Matsuda had argued against it. But when it came down to it…he looked down at the list of names again. Something about them didn't make sense, and when he looked again -
Damn, it was the same list Light had given him a few weeks ago, with the names swapped round! Was he really that stupid?
He glanced back at Aizawa. If Matsuda was perfectly honest - and he usually was, if only out of an inability to remember most of his lies - none of it really made sense to him. But when Aizawa had explained it, haltingly, quietly, eyes fixed on the door in case Light came back, Matsuda has started to remember how Light had been acting lately, with secret smiles and dismissive glances, going about his work with an air of distaste. Matsuda had put most of this down to the fact that they were rapidly becoming an illegal organisation, and thought nothing more of it, but with what Aizawa was saying…
Part of him was screaming that Light couldn't be Kira. Part of him was remembering that on the day David Hoope died, Light had spent a lot of time on the phone and out of the room. And he couldn't bring himself to forget the certainty with which Ryuzaki had expressed his suspicions, or the way it was only Ryuzaki, only the genius who suspected Light that had been killed…after all, the task force's names would be much easier to come by, even after the stringent measures they'd taken to secret them away. If Kira had found them they should all be dead, not just Ryuzaki. It was too tidy, as if someone was trying to make sure it wasn't discovered.
No, none of it really made sense to him. But when even the Chief was casting the odd glance at Light, eyes filled with pain and doubt, Matsuda felt he might be beginning to understand.
It was a Tuesday. Aizawa had been asking Light questions about the Death Note, about Ryuzaki, his arms folded and gaze hostile, and Light's eyes had been narrow and his voice had been cool. Again, the day had passed with no progress being made. Again, Light had been leaving the room and making phone calls.
Matsuda's heart had been pounding in his chest since lunchtime and he was pretty sure if it carried on it was going to burst, long before Kira got to it. Before Light got to it? He tried not to think about that too much, but it was no good. The entire task force was on edge. Aizawa had gone too far, and if they were right, then that would mean -
The door swung open and for a second Matsuda was expecting a vampire or Frankenstein's monster. In the instant before modesty and concern were pulled into place, though, Light's face was more frightening that whatever Matsuda could have imagined.
"Kira's found one of us," he said, heading for a computer. "One of our names."
"What?!" Matusda leapt to his feet, terror coursing through him. He was echoed by Aizawa and Ide, as the Chief moved forward and started urgently asking questions. Light was answering, quickly and curtly, fingers flying over the keyboard and eyes darting. His eyes widened in horror at something and he scrambled backwards, turning a stricken face to his father.
"Dad! It's -"
"Ah!"
The Chief's hand flew to his chest as his eyes widened, and Matsuda would have rushed forward if he hadn't been rigid with fear.
"Dad -!"
"CHIEF!"
The Chief's hand dropped to his side. His shoulders slumped. He fell forwards.
All hell broke loose.
Somewhere in the middle of it, the phone rang. Matsuda answered it with mechanical, automatic immediacy, and then a voice in his year was telling him that Sachiko Yagami had collapsed, and that this was where they were told they could reach her husband, and Aizawa was staring at Light again, in disbelief, horror and disgust.
-
Mikami expected nothing but perfection from Tuesday. It took its sweet time getting there, and he only slept – after three hours of tireless stillness – at exactly 12:01 with the satisfaction of knowing that it had finally arrived.
He got up one half-hour earlier than usual, intent on experiencing every moment of Tuesday. And if every moment was spent in sick anticipation that was fine. He collected his papers and made his lunch with the usual methods, but his calm morning was sabotaged by anticipatory smiles. He would have to control his joy so as not to give himself away, but the happiness was too massive to be hidden.
If everything in Mikami's life was the pursuit of justice, his life had been condensed into the impossibly light weight of the notebook in his briefcase. And to think it had only been a week since its arrival! It never left its designated place of honor, and he carried it with reverence and caution. The book followed him everywhere, as inspiration, to remind him what he was fighting for. And he followed it obsessively, too.
Though he realized now that bringing it everywhere was not a brilliant idea. Whenever his fingers brushed it, whenever the brilliantly black binding peeked out from under his documents he'd be overcome by hysterical chuckling, or perverse shivers of delight. Any other thoughts were shoved aside with the papers, and he would dig for the Note and bring the glorious thing into the halogen lights of his office. Pacing like a madman he'd riffle the pages and scan each of the names, the records of thousands…a week, he'd been like this…
The very manifestation of justice, given to me…
It had taken four short, glorious years for Kira to come to ultimate power. In that time Mikami had seen dark cities purged, networks of evil fall and disintegrate, entire countries bow to the will of justice. Resistance was minimal – the world had accepted Kira as their light.
But Mikami had more than accepted. He had begged this newfound savior for a piece of power, stalking the places where Kira would find him. I can be his most devoted disciple. I can bring justice upon the scum of this world. I can help him. It had long ago occurred to him that Kira had to be human, the way he hid his identity, used mortal methods of communication, killed based on location. And yet he, this mysterious human Kira, had acquired a piece of divinity.
And now that piece was in Mikami's hands and it was Tuesday.
He really didn't get anything else done on Tuesday, besides re-reading the instructions left with the Note again and again. They were quite simple and he had memorized them, so he chanted them under his breath as he took the bullet train home.
As he passed, the TV screens at the terminal were playing last night's recording of Kira's Kingdom. Mikami grinned with the sensation of superiority. I am selected.
At exactly 6:27 PM next Tuesday, the following names are to be written in the notebook:
Soichiro Yagami
Sachiko Yagami
No other names may be written in the notebook beforehand.
Photos included. Death Note contains instructions on how they are to be used.
Afterwards, the Notebook may be used to enforce justice on the evils of our world.
"To enforce justice on the evils of our world…" he muttered, gripping the briefcase as he took the brief journey home. "Our world…"
He set up his altar – one black pen, one mahogany desk, one black notebook. His eyes glowed a bloody red, watching the clock tick slowly past 6:25
Should he write at 6:26 instead? Forty seconds before the clock changed, exactly, so the Yagamis would die right when the clock changed? It was probably better to wait until the designated time, but Mikami caved at 6:26:15 and scrawled the names, glancing briefly at the pictures and holding his breath.
It was 6:31:22 when he moved next. It probably would have been much longer, because he was still frozen in awe of the passing power, but a shrill ring interrupted him. Mikami dug his phone out of his pocket. He took one minute to compose himself, failed miserably and answered with an exhilarated "yes?"
"Mikami Teru." the voice was tinny, distorted. The lawyer held his breath.
"…You were forty-five seconds early."
He gripped the phone with both hands suddenly. Shock and awe crawled up his spine. "Kami?" he burst out loudly.
"…Yes. You have done well, despite the slight matter of your timing. We shall discuss this in the future."
"Discuss?" Mikami said blankly, suddenly wanting-
"I would like to meet you, Mikami Teru," the voice said, expressionless. The lawyer gripped the edge of the desk for support and nodded before remembering Kira couldn't see him.
"Yes," he said plainly, finally gaining control. "Of course, Kami."
"Further instructions to follow," was all that was said, almost hastily, and then the line went dead.
Mikami held the Death Note up to the sunset streaming in from the window, and let out the victorious scream he'd been holding in all day.
-
In the days following the Chief's death, Light spent most of his time out of the headquarters, and even though the suspicion against him was rising, no one could think of a way to stop him.
Matsuda hadn't slept the night after it had happened. He had sat up, clutching the sheets and his gun (as if that could help, against the invisible tendrils of the Death Note's magic), trying to work it all out, trying to resolve himself to the fact that in all probability, Light had killed his own parents.
Seeing Light's face, twisted and torn in grief and horror as he crouched over the body of his father, had made Matsuda wonder how they could even suspect him of being Kira. But as he kept watching him he noticed the expression slip, and while grief was still there, etched into the smooth curves of his face, something like triumph, like glee, was dancing behind his eyes.
Matsuda was sure he'd been the only one to see, and equally sure that Light had only let the façade down for that instant because he was sure Matsuda wouldn't notice. Ordinarily, he wouldn't. Ordinarily, he'd just put the changing, strange expressions down to shock and sadness. But this time…
This time, it was the Chief.
No one should have looked like that over the Chief's death.
After the horror, and terror of being next, had faded to a dull, lingering discomfort, the full impact of what had happened had set in. The Chief was dead. For Matsuda, that was practically synonymous with Kira winning.
…But then, hadn't Kira won already?
The world had pretty much submitted to Kira's will months ago now. There was even talk of inviting him to become the head of the ICPO…sometimes, Matsuda would find himself wondering if such overwhelming support meant that perhaps Kira was right after all.
That had been before the Chief's death, though. Now…now, Matsuda was sure. Kira was evil, and he had to be stopped. And if Light was Kira, then…then…it just meant that Light was wrong, too.
Matsuda sighed. That idea would take some getting used to.
-
The call came in when he was heading home, after a fruitless day during which he had only seen Light once, briefly, heading out as Matsuda headed in. He fished in his pocket for the cell phone and flipped it open. Forgetting to check the caller display, he answered, "hey?"
The caller hung up. Matusda glanced down at his phone in confusion, and checked who it was that had been calling. The name flashed up on the screen, 'Aizawa', and his frown deepened. Why would Aizawa just hang up…?
He was about to call him back when he remembered the cell phone sharing system Light had set up. No, he'd call Aizawa back from his home phone, in case he wanted to talk about something privately. Like, for instance, the fact that Light was probably Kira.
He quickened his pace, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. He didn't have to watch out for being mugged, at least. Kira'd made sure of that.
He reached his apartment a few minutes later, fumbled with the lock for a moment and picked up the phone before he had even shrugged off his coat.
"Aizawa?" he said, when the other man picked up. He had remembered to call him at home, and not on his cell phone - he wasn't sure how the cell phone sharing system worked, but he didn't want to risk it.
"Matsuda!" Aizawa sounded relieved. "I was worried you wouldn't work it out."
"The cell phone sharing system, right?" Matsuda couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself.
"Right. Thinking about that, in light of everything…for all we know, it was put in place to spy on us."
"…Oh."
"Yeah. Anyway, Matsuda, I know you've probably just got in, but I need you to go over to Ide's, now."
"Ide's?"
"Yeah. You know where he lives? I'm heading over there now myself." In the background, he could hear Aizawa shuffling things round, and the jingle of keys.
"I know, it's not far from here. But why -?"
"Explain when we're there. See you." Aizawa hung up.
Matsuda replaced the phone on the hook, and sunk into a chair. He pressed a hand against his forehead, and let out a shaky breath. He didn't know what Aizawa wanted, but he could probably guess what it was about.
This was getting insane. For the past four days he'd barely been able to keep his mind off the fact that at any moment, he could collapse on the street in death throes. He had barely entered his thirties! Jesus, what was he doing here? He shouldn't be involved with this case, he should be apprehending muggers and stopping drunken street fights! And now, he was going to get himself killed, for some worthless goal that they'd never achieved and wasn't worth making himself a martyr for. Look at Ryuzaki, Ukita - look that the Chief! They'd all died for this now…and they were getting nowhere. They'd lost.
Dismally, he headed back out of the door. He'd walked to Ide's a number of times over the past few months, so knew the way almost automatically. He let his feet take him there, while his mind stuttered back and forth between fear and grief.
The door was answered on his second knock. He must have taken longer getting there than he'd thought, because Aizawa was already seated at one end of the couch. Mogi was next to him.
"Matsuda," Ide greeted him, aiming him towards a chair.
He sat down, looking around at the solemn faces. "Guys? What's this about?"
Ide leant against the wall next to the couch. "Three guesses."
"It's about Kira," Aizawa said. "…It's about Light."
"We're pretty sure it's him now." This was Mogi, his face dark. "We think that he had someone - a proxy - kill off his parents to try to reduce the suspicion against him. He'll have worked out we're considering him again by now."
Matsuda swallowed dryly. "Doesn't that mean that he'll -?"
"Yes," Aizawa said heavily. "That's exactly what it means."
Matsuda looked around at the stony faces. He let out a breath, and slumped backwards into his chair.
-
Although Mikami had been preparing to wait for weeks to get another message from Kira, he didn't have to wait long at all. Mere days later his cellphone rang, this time at five in the morning. Assuming it was urgent, he reached over to the beside table and answered with a gamely "yes?"
Imagine his surprise when Kira was on the other end. It was enough to get him out of bed and onto the cold tiled floor, clutching the phone.
"You are to take the morning off work," he instructed, "And take the first train possible to downtown Kanto…"
His instructions were clear and in minutes Mikami found himself breaking his set morning rituals. It unsettled him automatically, but Kira was far more important than work or routine. He was so preoccupied with the upcoming meeting that he failed to notice the familiar address until he was halfway there.
Why had Kira asked him to meet at a café? Was he being watched so closely that Kira knew his daily routine? He was going to meet his Kami over coffee?
Mikami ordered one cup black and took his seat. It was his usual perch on poor weather days – he could see the street through a window to his left and the door in front of him. Raindrops chased each other on the glass beside him as the marred figures on the other side dashed through the streets. It was early enough for the place to be entirely empty – except for the teenaged barista girl whose mind was clearly elsewhere – and Mikami was left to his thoughts.
Why now? He wondered. When he called he actually seemed…worried. Preoccupied, at the least. He took increasingly swift sips of the bitter drink. It can't be because of the Yagamis, can it?
Lost in his thoughts, he swallowed a burning mouthful of his drink when a voice interrupted. "Are you saving this seat?" the mystery person asked carelessly, an ambiguous male voice that could have fit in anywhere.
The lawyer looked up over the rims of his glasses and found himself talking to a jacket. That was all he could see of the man, anyways, as his face was darkly shadowed by the grey hood. It took him a minute, but then he noticed something else was missing. This person didn't feel right.
On a hunch, he blinked painfully and quickly glanced up at the walking hoodie. His shinigami eyes widened imperceptibly as he saw it – the obvious gap where the man's lifespan should have been. And even his name was that of a god. Light Yagami. Light.
"Yes, of course," he began slowly, "Kami."
He set down the coffee and didn't take his eyes off it, afraid of his own reaction. Disobedient hands already shaking, mouth already twitching into that uncontrollable smile – is this what such power does to me? He wasn't sure if he was containing his speech out of respect, or fear of breaking out into laughter.
"I'm glad you recognize me…" the man hissed, instantly in a darker tone. Mikami ignored the chills and took time to notice, dimly, that the barista had retreated into the kitchen. They were alone.
The man did not hesitate in pulling his hood down as he claimed his chair. Mikami was a little surprised – he had imagined Kira with the same glaring, sharp eyes. He had predicted the handsomely structured face and long fingers.
What he hadn't expected was how young he was. The man sitting before him could have passed for a high-school student. He returned to glaring into the half-empty coffee cup.
"I see now that I can trust you, Teru Mikami." He said simply. "And that you have made a deal for the shinigami eyes. A very willing follower. Even self-sacrificing."
The lawyer nodded humbly, trying to quell the waves of pride. A door clanked irritatingly and he stole a glance towards the sound, just in time to catch the barista bursting through with a double load of hot scones. She ignored them, but Mikami didn't dare speak until she had left again.
When his eyes returned to the manifested Kira, he saw the man was laughing. "You needn't be so jumpy," he managed. "I come here nearly every day. There is nothing suspicious about us simply talking."
"I…I apologize." The lawyer said hurriedly, embarrassed. "I haven't seen you here before and yet this is where I…"
"I know," Kira interrupted needlessly. Mikami clutched at his coffee with both hands, keeping it from sloshing. "I've seen you here before, once or twice. But I hide well." He smirked.
Silence drew out between them. They both remained still as the lawyer struggled to form words. Rain pattered on the window and Mikami settled back in the armchair, taking a quick breath or two. "I have…some questions, if Kami would permit me?" he said finally.
"Of course." Kira obliged, propping his cheek up on his hands. If he hadn't been Kami he would have looked the belligerent teenaged son, but the pose was glorified on him as pensive and patient.
"Why must you hide?" The lawyer burst. "I mean no disrespect, you know I have nothing but respect for you-"
"And yet?" His leader asked, unmoving.
"And yet you have never shown yourself to the public. You are ambiguous. It is powerful yet…frustrating. Had you revealed your identity I could have helped you years ago." Mikami looked away angrily and Kira quirked up a slender eyebrow.
There was a long silence. Mikami realized the question had come across as not very intelligent. He was not so deluded as to forget that Kira was opposed, but there was a different reason for asking.
"I suppose I could have. And yet my enemies would have then eliminated me, long ago." The man responded finally, as if teaching a child, eternally patient.
"I understand." Mikami said, imitating his dark, haughty speech with a glance over the rim of his glasses. "And yet, they would be very easy for me to eliminate."
The shinigami eyes glowed briefly red.
To his pleasant surprise Kira laughed again. Mikami was not stupid – just insanely devoted. "You are correct." He said. "And that would have been you mission, had they not beaten you to the punch."
"…Kami?"
Kira pulled a wrinkled newspaper clipping from his pocket and passed it to Mikami across the table. Gas Explosion In Police Headquarters: Kills Four. His eyes were pleased as he said airily. "They're dead. Took most of the information on my investigation with them."
"You've killed them already?" Mikami guessed, as if it was a normal conversation.
"No. They died without my aid. Matsuda, Aizawa, Ide and Mogi had come extremely close to discovering my true identity when this happened. Or rather…Aizawa and Ide and Mogi had…" he said the last part to himself, chuckling. Mikami didn't get the joke and pressed on.
"Then surely there are no enemies left?"
Kira drew back in his chair and crossed his legs. "There are always those who would seek to eliminate me. I don't even welcome all who claim to be my friends. I seek a new world and I shall hide my identity until it has manifested. We are close, Mikami, but not close enough."
We. He was to be included in Kira's New World. Kira's Kingdom. "Then tell me what I must do." He said simply.
It took a full ten minutes to explain. It would take no more than forty seconds to execute.
-
"Mikami!" his boss scolded as the prosecutor walked past his office. He stopped only out of habit, because his boss was a man he respected. Perhaps the top of his list, until Kira came along. Now, the man standing there digging his hands into his pockets and glaring from coke-bottle glasses seemed to be dangerously inferior.
"Yes?" he said.
"You're late." The man said gruffly, not bothering to move from his perch against the doorframe.
"Ah," Mikami said softly, "that's because I'm quitting."
The man blinked repeatedly as his employee walked past him, expressionless, and into his expansive office where he opened a drawer and emptied select contents into his briefcase. As Mikami was pulling his old yearbooks from the expansive shelves on the back wall, his boss finally managed to form a "what?"
Mikami didn't even dignify the man with a shrug. "I have something I need to do." He finished. He selected a few more books from the wall and walked out, leaving his old fallen hero baffled. Then again, what with the world changing so rapidly, it was no surprise that people were changing too. The chief prosecutor cursed the loss of his best lawyer, then went about his unremarkable life.
-
It hadn't taken forty seconds. This job had…required just a little bit more.
Mikami was glad that he'd taken the entire day off. He had spent the last three hours scanning hazy, static-filled surveillance tapes sent to him by Kira, trying to decipher the crooked names above their heads. At a guess he'd say seventy, maybe eighty-five percent success. A stabbing pain had started to grow behind his eyes after so much work and he closed the Death Note with an exasperated sigh.
Though his main mission had been rather successful – wiping out the rebellious ones – something, or rather someone, was bugging him indefinitely. In eight different streams of tape as well as three freeze-frames, he'd caught the same man. Cropped blond hair, consistently black clothing. This person was always clever enough to hide their face and though Mikami had tried from every angle the little bugger was just not getting caught tonight.
Then something else caught his attention. As Mikami was going through his standard nighttime procedures something jogged in his memory. Though he had been looking at dozens of names all day there was no way he'd forget the name Light Yagami.
But…Yagami?
Mikami left the dishes half-washed and flipped the notebook open, just to make sure, and there they were – the names Soichiro Yagami, Sachiko Yagami.
He closed the book again, stood there for several minutes in deep thought and then returned to his dishes.
Across the city, the sky was painted a livid orange and crackling flames mingled with a woman's scream.