This is a what-if alternative ending for Death Note, although it's set right at the very beginning, before L and Light had even met. I've been playing with this idea for months, and I don't know if I'll do anything more with it, but I hope you enjoy!
Light burst into his room and grabbed the Note from where it lay on his desk with shaking fingers. He pushed the door shut behind him, turned the lock. He leant against it with closed eyes.
The doorbell rang, but the door opened before Soichiro could get to it. The man on the doorstep had unruly black hair, and a card that identified him as Ryuzaki, a subordinate of L. He said nothing and simply strode in, pushing past with single-minded intent. Soichiro started as sure steps went down the corridor. Where had he seen that face before?
Quickly, Light unlocked his desk drawer, throwing it open and scrabbling on his desk for a pen. Faster now, he ripped the cartridge from the plastic casing and felt around underneath, the slim black notebook clenched tightly in one hand. Ryuk chuckled from his corner, offering no advice.
Thump. Thump. Soichiro accompanied the man up the staircase. He walked with a strange posture, as if he was more used to sitting crouched on the floor than marching around.
Urgency made him clumsy and with sweaty hands he dropped the cartridge. Immediately he scrambled for it, throat tight with nervous nausea. If he was caught now, it would all be over. He was panicking – he had planned for every scenario, but not this. How could he have overlooked this?
On the landing, the man turned to Soichiro, a question in his eyes.
"Your son's room?" The man's voice was strangely resonant, his gaze piercing. Soichiro hesitated and then, slowly, he nodded.
There it was! Swiftly, Light retrieved the cartridge and then inserted it into the drawer, lifting the wooden panel with care. His shoulders sagged with relief, but the nausea was not so easily swallowed.
Moving forward, Soichiro knocked on his son's door. The man stood at his shoulder, a little too close for comfort; he could feel breath on the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to move away.
Dumping the notebook unceremoniously in the drawer, Light moved his hand to the side to pick up neatly cut wooden board from the desk, the corner just tapping the cartridge.
For a moment, it gave a little; bent sideways under the unknowing pressure of Light's shaking hands. And then, something slipped.
And the cartridge
Dropped.
The metal clips made a final 'click' as they snapped together. Light's hand darted forward in realisation, horror. The gasoline bag ignited with a hiss; his hand and the notebook were engulfed in flames.
Soichiro knocked again, trying to contain his growing anxiety. Light always answered the door. When they heard the screams, the wild-haired man turned to him, took a few steps backward and kicked the door, heel first, just under the lock. The wood splintered.
Flames licked Light's prone body, and when Soichiro opened his mouth, no words escaped. The man, however, looked on impassively before striding into the burning room and hauling the body over his shoulder.
"Somebody should call the emergency services." He said as he walked out.
Soichiro fumbled with his phone.
("I knew you were worth it, Light," Ryuk laughed quietly "It's been a good game."
