Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Death Note featured herein.
This story is a little twisted … not in the typical sense though. The idea would not leave me alone at all. It was as though Misa really was in my mind throwing a temper tantrum demanding as much attention as everyone else had been getting from me.
That said, once I started constructing the story and getting into Misa's head I started to enjoy writing this. Odd, but true.
Warnings: het (Misa/Light), set after episode 25.
Wish Upon a Shooting Star
Amane Misa wanted nothing more in her life than to be a princess. It was a wish all little girls dreamed of having granted, but reality tended to intrude as the years passed. Some women never really forgot that dream and the emptiness caused by unfulfilled dreams haunted them, driving them to despair and desperation. Stories of women making bad choices with men became something of a cliché — "He wasn't like this when we first met!" "He was such a prince!" "I know he loves me!" They would cry, defending their tears and bruises and shattered hollow hearts; and they would slip into their dreams — not realising how their wishes of gowns and dances and moonlight kisses had twisted to sighs of "At least he doesn't hate me."
But Misa was different. She never pretended that she'd never dreamed of princes and starlight and everlasting love like the other girls who settled for the cute guy or the smart guy or the captain of the tennis club. Misa knew, one day, she was going to get everything she ever wished for.
Yagami Light was all she had ever dreamed of.
Of course, she had to work for everything she wanted. Dreams were only worth something if you worked for them — she wasn't a fool, she knew there was always a price to pay for something you really wanted. And the price was always worth it in the end.
Light certainly was.
People never really noticed Misa until her parents died; before she was always "that weird airhead" or "the cute, but dumb one". She had friends but, like all young teenagers, their friendship was mostly based on superficialities. She knew that friends should coexist on a deeper level, but the people around her never seemed worth that — she could always get better friends, meet more interesting people, find those who would help her fulfil her dreams. She never once considered the possibility that her plans for her life would derail so dramatically.
Rem — who had opened her eyes and introduced her to something so amazing — was the best friend a girl could ask for; and Light, who understood those same deep dark secrets they shared, saw something worthwhile in her in passing that others didn't glimpse even knowing her since childhood.
Death was never something Misa had contemplated before. Sure she heard stories on the news and knew a few people who'd been to funerals or had lost someone close, but it had never been so present in her life before she opened the door to her home and felt blood soak into her thin white socks.
Everything seemed to change after that. People looked at Misa, whispered about her, passed judgement, pitied her. She couldn't smile, couldn't laugh, couldn't talk, couldn't cry without someone noticing. She wanted to scream, but she didn't. She accepted it all — the stares, the whispers — and made herself beyond it all. She was above this, she could deal with her life, she was not going to let someone else tell her how to think and feel and mourn and she was going to move past all this without anyone else.
Because Misa had a dream to fulfil.
The odd thing about princesses is that not all of them wore white dresses and sat about in towers waiting for Prince Charming to come to them. Sometimes life got hard enough that Misa would find herself emulating those tower-ridden girls and giving in, flinging herself to her bed and begging, "Why won't you save me?!" But her prince never replied and Misa knew that the prince waiting for her would never accept a princess who couldn't even save herself when he wasn't around. That was when she realised she would have to find other ways to be strong.
The whispers changed after that; no more was the secret topic of Misa confined to pity about her parents, now it was also fear of her own denial. Bleached hair and black clothes and skull paraphernalia had to mean she was one of those death worshippers — the ones who robbed graves and dishonoured the dead with their blasphemy. She had strange powers and could suck your soul out and make you her slave. A pity what having no parental guidance could do but she was always a strange girl, locked away in her own world; it was no wonder she turned out like this.
Misa had no real power besides what a black notebook gave her. It was enough, though, to learn how to be strong and stand on her own and make herself known. She was going to be great and stand at the side of the greatest man who had ever existed and she would love him forever because he had saved her when she had all but given up and forgotten her dream.
It didn't matter that he wanted to kill her; she had given her life to him years ago. All she ever wanted was a prince who would give her the world and she in turn would give him her love which would help him conquer everything.
She would be a princess.
Misa-Misa smiled all the time: at girls who giggled and waved, at men who leered, at random people on the street who pointed and stared. She was on the cover of magazines and interviewed on television. Misa-Misa smiled and looked at all of them and learned their names and allowed them a moment of her grace, for she would likely never see most of them again before their time on the earth was up. It was what all good rulers did, allowing time for their subjects.
Rem frowned and shook her head at it all, but Misa enjoyed this — knowing something so secret and powerful that even the person she was looking at didn't know. It was special — she was special.
Her Prince confirmed it. He would whisper her name in a low secret voice intended only for her ears. "Misa," he'd say as his silken hand brushed her cheek. "You're my most prized weapon, my special secret. No one else could possibly replace you. You would do anything for me, wouldn't you? You'll help me do this; and you'll be with me as I rise to the top."
"Light," she'd whimper as his breath and touch caressed her entire body. "I'd die for you."
"Yes, you will." A promise kissed into her skin.
Ryuzaki was weird and perverted but Misa had liked him. If only he hadn't tried to stop her dream from becoming a reality. It was his own fault really — no one could stop Light, not with her standing at his side. Still, it was sad to see that the only thing left of him in the world was a pile of dirt and a white stone cross.
During the funeral she remembered their first meeting and the disastrous date in her apartment while still locked in headquarters. He'd stolen her strawberries and tried to steal Light away too. He almost managed the second part with the Kira case. Light was different back then — she was different too. It was a nice, quiet diversion from the rest of her life, like a fun little play: How to Be Satisfied with Mediocrity.
It was nice but Misa much preferred her dream to a stupid boring play.
Light slipped his hand into hers halfway through the service. He was struggling to hold back tears, but Misa could see her Prince hiding a smile as well.
He laughed, a sound starting deep in his chest, and it echoed in the small intimate space of their bedroom. He kissed her and made her swoon, promising her riches and status and all the power she could desire. He stood before her — naked, strong and hungry — and offered her the world and she reached instead for him.
She already held the world grasped tight between her fingers.
