Light knew he didn't have much time left. One stripe left on his candle. One stripe's worth of time to go out and make a difference in this rotten world. It was barely enough time to put him through college. Not enough time to find a job at the NPA, and certainly not enough time to find a wife and settle down, though who knows if he could ever find a girl he could bother to talk to, let alone date.
His situation made him restless. How could he afford to keep on going like this? Day in, day out, repeating the same basic schedule of wake up, go to school, do homework, and go to bed. He was never given a chance to break out of this preset mold. He gripped his pencil a little bit harder.
(I literally don't have time for this!)
He knew he could do great things.
Light didn't believe in a god, or gods, because if that were true, they would be have to be incredibly cruel. How could a god have given him such intelligence, but not enough life to put it to use? It would almost be mocking, letting him die right before he was able to really live. So Light didn't believe in gods.
His parents didn't understand his frustration with life.
When he was younger, too young to know what the candles represented, he would will his into existence before bed. His mother would tuck him in with a kiss on the head and a nervous cluck at the flickering light, and his father would wrap him up tight in a bear hug and a gruff "good night, son." As they turned out the lights and his eyes began to droop, he would watch the glowing flame dance and twist on the wick, blissfully unaware that it was his very life burning away.
That was before Sayu.
When his sister was born, Light felt his parents let out a breath that he didn't know they were holding. It seemed that this child would live long enough to give them grandchildren.
It was startling, at first, to see his sister's candle. He had naively thought that all children's candlesticks were the same length as his. Sayu was never one to hide her candle, even when she first discovered she could will it away. Little Sayu would blink her candle out, and in a matter of seconds would blink it back into existence, as if it were her best friend. Little Light was bothered by Sayu's candle. Each appearance taunted him, as if saying, 'look at the life you could've had'. This may have resulted in him shoving Sayu a little harder than necessary, just to see if maybe her candle would burn a little quicker. He was past such things now. He had reluctantly accepted his limited lifespan, because he couldn't do anything to change it.
Sachiko and Souichirou had also accepted the fact that he wouldn't live past 30. But unlike him, they had decided that they wanted their child who would die young to have a normal life. They insisted on him going to school (screw mandatory schooling with the inability to skip grades) and getting good grades (like he didn't already learn the material ages ago) and talking about college (as if he would have time to put his degree to use).
Finding the death note was like a stroke of fate. (Like, because he didn't believe in such things.) That he could snuff out a person's candle before it had burned away completely gave him a rush of adrenaline. This was justice. He could finally make a difference even with his stupid stub of a candlestick, cleansing this rotten world of criminals. Why should criminals be allowed to live longer lives than he, when it was entirely possible that they would use that precious time to commit more crimes?
When Ryuk offered him the eye deal, he had merely laughed. "I already have such a short life left to live. Why would I shorten it further?"
He willed his candle into existence each time he wrote in the death note, the flickering light a reminder that he needed to go faster, do more, writemore. There was only so much time before an actor left the stage.
L came into his life like a barreling truck. He always asked the most insensitive and inappropriate questions, without regard to social norm.
Can I see your candle, Yagami-kun? (No.)
How many stripes do you have left? (Fuck off.)
I don't suppose you wanted to be a mass murderer when you grew up, did you? (I wanted to be alive, you asshole.)
How many stripes do you suppose Kira has left? One, maybe two? Going at such an explosive rate, he seems rather desperate, do you not think? (When I find your real name, I'll extinguish your abrasive personality along with your pitiful life.)
He hated L. Every moment spent bantering with him and evading capture was another moment lost. And yet, the challenge that L represented was invigorating, stimulating, fun even.
The period in which he lost his memories he was painfully naive. At that point, he had actually had hope that he could help L change the world, unknowing that he could have made much more of an impact being the very person whom he was supposed to be capturing. Even as annoying as he was, being with L became a blessing instead of a curse, his only gateway to affecting real world change.
"I suppose you're the first friend I've had, Light-kun."
He liked to think of his relationship with L as a sort of Stockholm syndrome. Aside from the physical closeness and actual handcuffs, it really was his future being held captive.
It's not that he disliked the things he did with L late at night, but that he couldn't help but think of whether he would be doing these things if it wasn't with The L.
How did he view L? A friend? Maybe. A rival? Probably. A lover? Questionable. A superior? Definitely.
"Light-kun, what do you think happens to the remainder of the candlesticks that are left after Kira kills?"
"Well, I suppose they just disappear. There hasn't ever been a previous case in which candles have been extinguished prematurely."
"Hmmm..."
When he grabbed the notebook from L in the helicopter, he had screamed. The memories coming back were painful. They mixed and muddled with his experiences, painting all of his interactions with L a darker tinge.
"Light-kun?"
L became a blighting curse again. How dare he keep Light from fulfilling his true calling? Making him waste all this precious time on Higuchi of all people, who didn't care one bit about justice?
It was not long until all the gears fell into place, and all Light could feel was a cold satisfaction.
L clutched at his chest. "Light. Light!"
"Ryuzaki!" His acting had been immaculate. "L!"
"Give it to me, quickly now. Give me your candle."
He was reluctant to show his candle to his rival. There was already barely anything left, they had wasted so much time with Higuchi. But he was trapped. He could not deny his greatest rival his dying request, especially in front of his father.
He blinked it into existence and handed the small brass stand to L. The small stub was barely holding on, more of a pool of wax than a stick. L plucked it from the stand, almost burning his fingers on the flame. L blinked his own into existence. It was barely taller than his own, and as the seconds ticked, the fire was already shrinking. He almost wanted to laugh. Even L, who had countless people after his life, had a longer candle than his?
He watched the dim light of L's candle flicker with a dry mouth and intense gaze. This was what it was like, watching life slip away?
L took his own candle and held it under Light's. The wax at the bottom became liquidy and as the second hand of his watch hit the thirty-five second mark, L smashed the end of Light's candle directly on top of his own.
"L! L, What are you doing?!"
L smiled. Light-kun, he mouthed, right before his body went still and his eyes became glassy.
Light's candle glowed brightly for a moment before returning to its usual brightness.
When the blinding light had dissipated, he took one look at his candle and instantly hated it even more than he already had. This... this was a loss! He trembled with rage at the candle, now unevenly tall on one side, with a clear difference between the two colors of top and bottom. If he had known this would happen he would have never shown his candle to L! How could this even be possible? There were no records of extending a person's candle with another's.
When the shock and realization of what L had done had worn off, his father had rubbed his back gently, thinking he was shaking with grief. "It's an honor to receive the life of L."
He kept his face looking down so that no one could see his expression. He refused! He refused to live on someone else's borrowed time! He would rather die right then and there than live on time stolen from L. He refused to acknowledge this loss.
Ryuk, when he saw Light's candle, had laughed. "Hyuk hyuk hyuk, what an interesting human, Light-O. Stealing the remainder of life that belongs to the Shinigami and giving it to Kira, hyuk hyuk."
He gripped his pen harder. Fine. Fine then! Just watch him. He'd finish his task all using his own time, and use the rest of L's years to gloat and laugh over his grave.
The last stripe of his original candle had just about run out by the time he was challenged by Near and Mello.
He loathed it.
If L hadn't given him the rest of his years, he would have already been gone. It would have been his win. Instead, he was forced to use his borrowed time from L to play with his stupid little successors. Had this been L's plan all along when he gave him the remainder of his candle? Delaying his death such that he could be caught by these pathetic replacements? Those children couldn't measure up to L. They were not worthy of being his rival as L had been.
He debated ending it to win. But no, the challenge had already been made. He could not just watch as Kira's legacy was defiled by those children.
"Yes. I am Kira."
A gunshot. Several gunshots. Pain. He was bleeding out. It would be a difficult situation if he was caught.
"Ryuk! Ryuk help me!"
"Hyuk hyuk hyuk. Sorry Light-O. Looks like this game is over. It's been fun." The Shinigami pulled out his death note.
"No! No, you can't! I still have time!" He willed into existence his candle. L's candle. There was still wax left.
Ryuk's eyes glowed red. "Oh, Light-O. Years from L aside, your time was never yours to begin with." The shinigami gave a grotesque grin and finished the final stroke in the notebook.
He felt the pain, sharp and acute from his chest. With his last breaths he muttered, "Ryuk, L, you bastards."
He watched his own flame grow smaller as his eyes fell closed.
(Have I made a difference? Has my light burned bright enough?)
A trail of smoke danced in elegant spirals, sent up into the sky by the blowing wind, as the candle faded into nothingness.
First Fig
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light!
- Edna St. Vincent Millay