Disclaimer! All fictional entities featured/ mentioned in this segment belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata; except Rin, who I made up for the purpose of this fan fiction.
This fic is kind of OC-centric, but it concerns Misa's suicide. Not sure when she did it; it says that she did it on Valentine's Day in the manga, so I'm kind of going with that.
First Death Note fic.
SKY-HIGH LOLITA
It was another normal Valentine's Day. I didn't have a date; I didn't need one. I treated myself to a romantic stroll home from work. After all, don't they say that there's no greater love than the love of self? Hell, I liked to think that I earned it, after listening to my boss's stale old song while valiantly resisting the temptation to dump sugar into the gas tank of her car after I punched out.
Though even if I did give into temptation, I don't think I would've keeled over or anything. That crazy Kira bastard is long gone, and even if he wasn't, it wasn't like he was "all-seeing," right?
I had my binoculars out and everything, my head tilted towards the orange juice sky. I know, it sounds pretty stupid to go walking through the dirty urbia with binoculars like I'm hiking through some jungle watching for exotic birds. But you got to make do with what you have. I was sort of walking through a jungle, a concrete jungle. Besides, the sunset was so incredible; how could I resist? It made the streets look like the cover of a romance novel.
Until I came across the tracks, I was just messing around, focusing on random buildings and lazy shadows. "Here we see a lovely warehouse with a hole in its roof," I snickered, not giving a damn who listened. "And a flock of pigeons crooning a tune on a phone line…better not crap on me, pretty pigeons!"
I was in such a goofy mood that when I focused on the top of this particular skyscraper, I didn't register what I found up there, right away. "And up there, we have some girl perched outside the safety railing."
…
Wait, what?
I checked again, adjusting the focus so I could see a little clearer. Sure enough, some girl was up on top of that skyscraper, staring at the melting slab of butter in the sky that was the sun. She was alone, all dolled up in this Gothic Lolita get-up, black and lacy that fluttered around her ankles like a curtain. The dusk painted her golden hair a ruddy orange, and she had this strange look on her pancake face: hard and lifeless, like one of those creepy porcelain dolls.
Stranger still, she was standing outside the safety rails. With those high-heel shoes she had on, it'd just take one klutzy loss of footing and whooooooo—SPLAT!
What was she thinking? Was she even thinking at all? She must've tied that headband on a little too tightly.
Well, I cupped a hand around my mouth and shouted at the peak of my lungs, "HEY, CRAZY BITCH! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO STAND INSIDE THE RAILING!"
I didn't count on her hearing me; she was too far away, for one, and way too high, and I don't just mean the altitude she was standing at. Not that I cared if she heard me, either. I wouldn't try reasoning with folks of her type: lost in their own fanciful world of black, lacy fetishes, they are. Just throw the two cents into their hat and move on.
So I did. My throat felt mighty sore, but that did little, if not nothing, to sober me up. I didn't look back at that airhead again.
By the next day, I'd mellowed back out, reconnected with practical reality. By the time I'd slipped into the break room, most of the girls were already there, huddled around the paper as I went past them towards the coffee maker.
As soon as I flipped the little red switch, I could hear them mumbling. For some reason, they sounded kind of depressed. Well, initially, that didn't surprise me. Most everything they put in the paper is depressing: a collaboration of disquietude for the sake of disquietude.
"What a tragedy."
"Last I saw her, she was surrounded by bubbles and giggling without a care in the world. How could someone so full of life do something like that?"
Only for the sake of satiating curiosity, I abandoned the brew to pull up a chair. "What's going on?"
Kimi peered up from the paper, her face clouded with the kind of gloom that you'd find on anyone who's read an obituary, God knows why they would. "My God, Rin, you don't know? Misa-Misa's gone."
Misa Amane? That obnoxious model/ pop star with the perky pigtails?
"Oh, yeah? Where'd she go off to?"
Kimi shot me this stern look, all of a sudden, like she didn't appreciate my half-joke. She was always kind of a disciple of Misa's, even though Misa was more like one of those idols targeted towards teenage and pre-teenage girls. "She's dead, smartass," she said, all bitter and whatnot.
"Oh." What else could I say? Misa Amane…was dead? Normally, I couldn't care less about some bubble-headed model kicking it, but for some reason, I was starting to feel strange. I got kind of quiet for a second, lost my train of thought before getting it back in the same breath.
"What happened? An accident? Foul play?"
Akemi shifted the paper towards me. "They're calling it a suicide."
Suicide?
"What makes them so sure it was suicide?" My voice was starting to shake.
"Well, apparently she jumped. Off the top of some skyscraper in the outskirts of town, by the tracks?"
Jump…skyscraper…by the tracks?
"Found her splattered all over the concrete like an egg: an egg in black and lace."
Black…lace?
"Have some respect, Akemi!" Kimi lurched over, pinching the spot between her eyes. "I don't get it: she had so much going for her! What made her want to throw it all away?" That Kira character had disappeared for about a year, the only reason why no one in the break room tried to connect him with Misa's gruesome fate, I'm sure.
Akemi shrugged. "Who knows? Whatever the reason, she must've wanted to still look pretty while she was doing it. That Misa: a little lovely Lolita till the end." Those last words might've sounded cute or poetic, but her tone was as sardonic as my boss's coffee mug.
Lolita…why does that sound familiar? A little too familiar…
The picture provided in the article (unfortunately) tied everything together. The press must not have wanted to depict their darling as the splatter of gore she had become, because what I found instead was a pic of Misa-Misa dressed as an angel, complete with folded white wings, for this movie she'd been cast in and all. With that flirty twinkle in her eye and divine smile gracing her cherry-red lips, there was no way she could have been the same stiff-faced sky-high Lolita I'd seen the day before.
But she was. The tinted lights behind her painted her golden locks a ruddy orange, just as the sunset had on her last day. And the smaller picture of that stupid skyscraper where she stood thrust the truth into my conscience, no ifs, ands or buts about it.
Suddenly, I felt like I was going to puke. The paper began to crinkle in my trembling hands, where all the color from my face drained to.
"What's the matter, Rin?" asked Akemi. "Forgive the cliché, but you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Uh…nothing. I just…need to get my coffee fix. Ladies, include me out." I shoved the paper back to the center of the table and slid out of my seat with as much composure as I could use to make up my face, kind of like how Misa had made up hers before she…jumped.
Why did this bother me so much, anyway? I didn't know Misa—knowing a person exists doesn't qualify as really knowing them, especially if you weren't a fan of theirs, in the first place—and…it wasn't like I had anything to do with her death. I didn't make her jump.
On the other hand, it also wasn't like I couldn't have done something about it. I had my cell phone; at the very least, I should've called the cops. Kira didn't have their hands tied up, anymore.
I started to pour the brew into my mug. Then again, the chance that she was thinking about jumping didn't once cross my mind. Maybe it should've? She was outside the goddamn rails! No one in their right mind goes outside the rails unless they're either really dumb or they just don't care anymore.
Kind of made me wonder who was the bigger airhead of the two.
Glug-glug-glug…
Gah, even if I did do something, it probably wouldn't have mattered! I was too far away! The cops wouldn't have gotten there on time, and even if they had, what could they do?
Sssh.
"Ah!"
I dropped both the pot and the mug and recoiled. Hot, hissing black brew dribbled between my fingers, scalding my palm. But rather than clean it up, I just stared at my hand. I noticed how dark it was, like that girl's dress. Like her eyes.
…Though I guess trying and failing would've been better than laughing and calling her a crazy bitch…even if she was exactly that…
"You're pretty klutzy today, Rin," said Akemi from behind me. "What's the matter: had to drink the whole bottle of wine yourself 'cause you didn't have a guy to share it with?"
"Shut up, Akemi," I hissed, reaching across the sink with my free hand to fumble for the paper towels, desperately seeking to put this behind me.
It felt like somebody put the roll farther away. Higher away.
