I own nothing. Near has always been one of my favourite characters in Death Note and so I decided to write this short story.
Ticking Clocks
Near thinks about clocks. He closes his eyes and imagines the whirring, clicking sound of a mechanical device. The concept of measured time has always appealed to him – time stops for noone, its passage is unavoidable. Time can be counted and divided, it is important for laying of plans. In a strange way it is a comforting concept.
(but now the clock is ticking, Kira watches from the shadows with death in his eyes and a blood-red smile)
Near knows that he should probably feel something (painregretshamelosshatred), but he left emotions and their complications behind him long ago – sacrificed in order to gain an advantage in the game. Because in the end that is what it is about: A deathly competition of mind and skills, where one wrong move means losing. L lost the game and price of failure.
( more than that, of course, pain and love mingled. Kira and L, mirrored in each other – never free even in death)
Near had his own mirror of course, as brilliant and driven as he is (it did not save him in the end).
Maybe that was the reason L never chose either of them. L could see clearly what so many others missed, for as different each of them was on the outside, in reality they had always been the same. Two sides of a coin, one could only be whole with the other.
( What is he going to do without his rival, his other self – now that the game has lost its meaning)
Is is a windy day and the cold has seeped into his bones. His visit to this place is uncharasteristic of him – a spontanous decision reached this morning. Yet now the gesture seems pointless and without meaning (as empty as he is). After all there are no more words to be said. The rules of the game have been set long ago and Near coukld not have changed them even if he had wanted to. Time stops for no one.
(Words whispered in the mechanical light of a dozen computers. Blue eyes filled with bondless rage and never-ending regret)
The mud stains his trousers as he kneels before the grave. White becomes gray. The sky does not weep, life goes on (a lie he wants to believe). The two gravestones are plain and unadorned. There is no pompous inscription about justice or bravery. He will not even think about forgiveness – the dead cannot forgive nor forget. Near has never believed in God or the afterlife. It is merely an illusion other find comfort in and he has no need for that. There is no cross engraved in this stone – it almost seems incomplete. Nothing distinguishes it from countless others in the graveyard, there is not even a name to identify it. Near could have chosen to have one inscripted, but which one should he choose? Names are just another part in the web of masks and lies and the truth of names only brings death. Near thinks of his own name, last spoken aloud ten years ago in the office of Wammy's House. Names are meaningless and best forgotten.
(their names were made letters for a reason. L, M, N, …But now they are gone. A single letter does not make an alphabet)
Gevanni is calling for him, standing at the entrance to the graveyard with a phone in his hand. Time does not stop and he still has a case to solve (What does it matter anyway?). He gets up and walks away slowly, past the rows of gravestones. He never looks back.
Please let me know what you think about it. (And if you notice any wrong words, let me know. I'm German, so it's quite strange to write a story in another language...)