The man so much on the news right now was charming, handsome, and intelligent. He made women swoon with a single glance, and he had a smile for everyone.
He had also killed Misa Amane's parents. She'd come home from the party to find them lying on the floor, blood soaking the walls and the floor and their hair and bodies and faces- oh, their faces. The wide-open eyes, so fixed and staring, and she'd run out screaming and sobbing and out of her mind with shock and grief. It took a few minutes for her to even realize that she needed to call the police, a few more for her to pull out her cell phone, and do it, trembling tenuously and feeling an icy chill work its way through her body.
The accompanying numbness was almost a relief, actually. It helped her get through the motions of explaining to the police- in a low, hollow tone, devoid of expression, feeling no pain except a dull ache below her ribcage- what she had seen and where she had been, who could confirm her alibi and did her parents have any enemies. No, no enemies. They hadn't harmed a soul. Emotion soon overcame her at that thought, and she turned away, sobbing. The policeman had been very sympathetic and handed her a handkerchief, which made her wonder, because nobody carried handkerchiefs anymore, but it was a nice thing to do, anyway.
Incontrovertible evidence, they had later claimed. DNA, witnesses. He's be put away for the rest of his life, the scum, justice will be done. She had hope then, hope that justice would be done, hope that she could at least carry on knowing that the one who'd snatched her parents away from her was rotting in jail. Hope for closure.
But the trial took ages. Misa blamed it on the dependent's- the murderer's, she told herself, hardening her spirit- good looks, his smile, and his ability to work a crowd. Mistaken identity, he said. Airtight alibi and the police were a little stumped- talk began to surface, he's innocent, did you see him he's so handsome and nobody that kind could have ever killed anyone.
Yeah, well, Ted Bundy had been charming, too. Her spirit hardened again. Her modeling career was starting to take off, but that wasn't important, because the killer was still free, still walking the earth, still alive. He had to be dead. He had to be. It was only fair.
The trial kept dragging on. No hope, no peace, she stopped sleeping and stopped eating and walked around in a daze, a shell of herself.
The world had no justice. It was corrupted, dirty, wrong.
In all the controversy and horror surrounding her parent's murder, Misa had missed all the rumours about Kira, so when the killer died of a heart attack suddenly and without warning, she'd been more astonished then joyful. The news reports about the whole mess used the name, and she was curious and grateful and decided to look it up on the internet.
There was, of course, a wealth of information. (There was a wealth of information about anything on the internet- Misa was certain of that.) Kira helped the helpless, was strength for the weak, cared for the oppressed. Her spirits lifted again, and she started eat and sleep, peaceful but driven and with a new goal in mind.
She had to meet Kira and thank him.
It was only fair.

And we all know where that led.
It's been a while, hasn't it? Mostly I've been pixel dolling, starting and not finished original fiction, and watching Star Trek: The Original Series. On another note, I found another Trekkie in my area and we're going to have a viewing party for the new movie. w00t w00t.
So yeah. I'm not really so much back as just popping in. I was working on an AMV and got inspired. I'm not sure how great this is, I feel rusty even though I haven't stopped writing much, just stopped doing fanfiction.
Ah, well.