Disclaimer: I have a whole list of people who would have lived if I owned Death Note!
A/N: -SPOILER WARNING!!- Do not read this unless you have finished the entire Death Note series!
This fic is dedicated to Kanki Youji. Kanki-san's stories got me seeing this character differently. Arigato!
Enjoy. :) –SS
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Real Illusion
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February 14th, 2011
The figure seemingly glides through town. Alone.
It's late, and very few people are out. The children that this figure used to hear laughing and playing all the time are probably in bed.
She knows exactly where she's going, and what's going to happen once she gets there. She is prepared for it. Until she reaches her destination, she can only think. Remember the joys and sorrows of a relatively short life.
This morning…this morning, when she woke up and realized she couldn't take it anymore. This morning, when she had looked at the date and cracked a mirthless smile. Such a serious expression didn't really fit her face, but did it matter?
The day universally recognized as a day of love. Of happiness, of togetherness.
The irony was just too much, especially in her emotionally fragile state.
She laughed, laughed until she was screaming. And then she screamed until she cried. Great, guttural, choking laughs like no sound she had ever made before. Sobs that came from the very core of her being, that in silence had been slowly ripping her apart.
For hours and hours she cried.
When she was finally out of tears, she sat perfectly still, like the cold white marble statue of an angel, and pondered an escape. A plan the likes of which she had never before seriously contemplated.
When all the details had been fine-tuned (at least, as many as she had the patience for), she put on a simple black dress-the simplest attire she possessed. But she added a few pieces of jewelry, knowing that such an obvious mourning outfit after so long would immediately alert the person she was about to visit to the fact that something was going on.
I am not as stupid as people think.
She knew he'd be alone in the office. Or at least, she hoped. A big case was about to be wrapped up in Kyoto, so most of the agents would be gone, working on that. And those who weren't would most likely have the day off; it was Valentine's Day, after all.
And Atou Yamamoto, being the newest agent, was usually the one nominated to stay in the office in the others' absence.
He must hate that. The feeling of being undervalued, underestimated. I know.
I should know..
It had been easy enough to convince Yamamoto to "loan" her a pair of handcuffs. It was public knowledge that he had a huge crush on her. One little kiss could go a long way.
Kisses are great tools. Useful for using people. For getting what you want.
I should know..
She had made a valiant effort to act the part of her old cheerful, bubbly self. The self that had been withering away, dying slowly for a while now.
Which brings her back to this lonely road she walks. Both literally and figuratively.
She allows her mind to drift-back, back to that day seven years ago when she had met her one true love. Her soul mate.
It had been love at first sight. She was happy with simply knowing his name, his face. Just having some tiny part of him in her memory kept her content, for a little while. She still treasured those memories.
After meeting him, she knew that she wasn't important to him. That she was nothing more than a tool, to be used as he saw fit and then disposed of. But still, she was with him, wasn't she?
Let him use her. Let him hurt her and disregard her.
Let him break her.
Let him own her.
As long as she was near him, that was enough. So she was happy.
She began to cling to the image of the optimistic, airheaded girl-especially after realizing that that girl was never really her-in order to keep her true emotions at bay. To prevent frustration, hopelessness, unrequited love and despair from spilling out of blue-green eyes and infecting those around her. She couldn't give way to depression and sorrow; better to live an illusion. A lie that fooled everyone, that at times even fooled her.
But even then, as long as her love was nearby, she was able to keep pretending. He was her battery, her drug. Her everything. And he pretended as well-pretended to care about her, even a little.
They were both great actors. So she remained happy, in a loose sense of the word.
When Ryuzaki/L died, she was sad and somewhat shocked. Even though her infatuated logic insisted that as her love's enemy L had to die, a part of her had almost unwillingly accepted Ryuzaki as a friend. A strange, quirky, innocent child who had never known love or light.
And that 'child,' that unloved friend, had essentially died by the hand of someone close to both of them.
On top of that, the Shinigami Rem had also died-a loyal ally who truly cared about her, which was more than she could say for most. Between the loss of both, her instinctive reaction was to mourn.
But the illusion had grown strong, toughened her heart. She hid from her sadness and reverted to her act-L was in the way of what her 'knight' wanted. He had to be killed. The young detective's end was what her love needed. And if that love was happy, so was she. She was happy still.
His marriage proposal soon afterwards brought her no real joy. She used it only as a means to strengthen her mask further. She continued to delude everyone, herself included.
"Of course I love him!"
The illusion had become more than just an act. It was a method of survival. Necessary.
She could suffer living a lie, if it meant love.
Even love that was so far from real, it was suffocating her.
Years passed and her façade didn't crack or falter once.
Even as she sensed herself slowly becoming a liability.
Even as she watched her fiancé get closer and closer to that Takada woman.
(She knew that Kiyomi was just like her-a stupid doe-eyed girl falling deeply and hopelessly and love with a man who only wanted to use her. She got a grim, morbid sense of satisfaction from that knowledge.)
Even as she felt her mask take on a life of its own and become ugly-taunting Kiyomi, chipping away at her. Rejoicing when the lonely woman died a horrible death, while her inner self felt some regret and foreboding.
"No rivals are left."
"But I'm probably next."
When Light Yagami didn't return from the Yellow Box Warehouse, of course she wondered. But he was an unpredictable person-you never knew with him, so she decided to wait a little while before prying.
But as it turned out, she didn't end up needing to pry at all.
"Those who use the Death Note suffer misfortune." It was something Rem had often said to her. Whether it was a warning, or merely a statement of cold hard fact, she would never know.
But it was something to consider a factor on February 11th, 2010, when Touta Matsuda accidentally let it slip that Light had died.
She had retreated to her home immediately, to save herself the trouble of putting on some grand show of mourning and heartbreak.
But after a while, against her wishes, it truly began to hurt.
It took time. But steadily, the feeling of misery closed in on her. Living under a pretense of love-and not necessarily a false one-for so long had left a mark. It had, somewhere along the way, become her reality. She had unintentionally made her constant declarations of devotion into the unwilling truth.
And such a thing, built up over almost a decade of pretending, was not easy to erase.
A little over a year had passed since that fateful time. She had struggled to play a new part, the role of someone who didn't care about Light Yagami. But it seemed she had used up all her acting skills. She was spent.
And now, the end of a 25-year road is rapidly approaching.
She blinks out of her reverie. She's at the Imakimay Irakih Bridge, in all its height and worn splendor.
She draws in a shuddering breath. Her heart pounds.
This is it.
She lifts one leg over the safety rail, and then the other.
Shivering on a narrow and precarious strip of metal, she withdraws the handcuffs from a pocket and clasps them behind her back, around quaking, pale hands.
She's helpless now, and yet she holds all the power.
The power to focus her will and make her choice.
She looks warily down at the dully glittering waters below. They seem to sparkle-mocking her, laughing at her.
Like everyone else does.
Well, they won't be laughing tomorrow. She'll make sure of that. For once, she has the strength and the power to do something monumental.
Her eyes are dry. Her shaking stops. Her fear dissipates.
And she jumps.
There isn't much time to wonder or regret. She feels herself falling, falling, gathering speed, shooting for the wet darkness like a fallen angel. The quickly passing wind, the sound of the final decision she can no longer take back, whistles loudly in her ears.
She hits the water with a hard, firm splash. Musical and mournful.
It's so cold.
She makes no effort to return to the surface-not that kicking would help much, with the handcuffs in place.
She sinks, deeper and deeper into the fathomless black.
Like she did all her life.
But this time, it's no illusion.
This is reality. It's wonderful to feel a bit of fear; something so real, so different.
Her air is gone. Her life is almost gone. But…her feelings remain.
Her love, made real and true by years of pretending, will never die.
Even as Misa Amane closes her eyes and accepts the end, she knows-and regrets-that her love for Light Yagami is her legacy.
Even after his own death, he's still screwing up mine.
Ironically, that is her last thought.
FINIS
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A/N: What can I say-some morbid, depressed plot bunny bit me.
Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are greatly appreciated, but feel no obligation.
Thanks for reading. -SS