One:
Kira
"You know, Light, for all you talked about it, this new world's a bit dull." Ryuk hung upside down, staring through the apartment window.
"Just be patient, Ryuk. Be patient." Kira set down his pen and stretched. "It's getting pretty late, and I need to get enough sleep if I want to balance working at the NPA and acting as God. Besides, I'll have to talk to Misa when she gets home if I stay up any longer." He held back a sigh, flopped onto his bed, and closed his eyes.
Ryuk righted himself and laughed softly. It truly is a wonder that he can sleep at night… He's more of a Shinigami than half of the Realm ever will be!
Light's eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. Red, barren wasteland stretched out on all sides, and mammoth bones littered the ground. He was standing beneath a particularly large ribcage that made a cracking noise every so often and swayed dangerously in the strong winds. Dozens of black, bird-like figures rose from the distance, blotting out what little light there was, and he could do nothing but watch in wonder as the mass of wings began to emit a low screech.
Realizing that he had been here before, and that he knew what was coming next, Light dove for the ground a second too late. The creatures suddenly pitched into a downward spiral, spearing anything that happened to be in the way of their descent. The ribcage began to crumble under their combined efforts, falling in increasingly larger pieces. Light huddled into himself as the massive structure began to crash to the ground around him, some chunks larger than a house threatening to gouge their way into his skin. The predators began to target the young man now that his refuge was gone.
Light screamed as grotesque, black beaks bore into his skin. He could feel the flesh being ripped off him as he fell to his knees, paralyzed with pain. The creatures were ruthless; pecking at his eyes, yanking his hair out in clumps, not leaving so much as a shred of meat on his bones.
A lifetime later, they left Light lying motionless in a pool of blood. His blood. Brown eyes widened with fear, his very being chanting five words over and over:
I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to
"You're up already? Isn't it early for you?"
Kira frowned at the Shinigami. "I have a lot to do today," he scoffed, slipping on his coat. "There's an important case going on right now," the brown-haired man added. Working at the NPA was irritatingly easy, despite his recent promotion to Chief. Matsuda had made some stupid comment about him following in his father's steps that Kira had decided to brush off, and Misa had wanted to celebrate at some party that Kira pointedly forgot about.
His work as Kira was what kept him motivated. Years after his victory over Near, he still felt that there was an unending amount of people to punish, and it was taking almost all of his willpower to keep his frustration at bay. He had eyes all over the world, a network of Kiras, but only he and Mikami owned Death Notes. It was much safer that way.
News stations had long since given up on covering the Kira murderers and the police agencies of the world wouldn't dare try to stop them after the fate of the SPK and Task Force were released, but people didn't forget. Even without constant media attention, Kira was the most famous man alive. There wasn't a child, man, or woman who hadn't heard of him, even if the topic was carefully avoided over dinner. Rumours were starting to spread that Kira didn't exist at all and it really was the unwavering hand of God smudging out the unworthy, but the counterargument involving the war between L and Kira made its progress slowgoing. The only thing the rumour had going in its favor was the sudden disappearance of L after their final battle (Which the NPA was keeping a tight lip about), but that was stretching it.
Kira sat down at his desk and began looking over the case files again.
It wasn't really that important of a case, but he refused to admit his nightmares to the living one following him around. He wondered if the Shinigami even knew what a nightmare was; it wasn't like he got a lot of sleep.
Details of the nightmares slipped past his grasp as long as he was conscious, but the fact that he had them in the first place was enough to shake his self-confidence. Of all people, he was supposed to be the only one able to bear the burden of millions of lives; could it be that even he could not carry such a weight? Even with all his intellect and will, could he still be too weak?
Nonsense. Kira glared at his screen. I am God! It is my duty to give my life for this new world, dedicate my being to perfecting this utopia. The crime rates have fallen so far, I can't stop now.
He made a quick note of the possible suspects (Of which there was one) before packing up and heading back to his apartment. As tempting as it was to kill the murderer immediately, it would be too suspicious for his cases to end in the death of the suspect every time. Not that anybody was paying much attention to him anymore, now that the Kira case was tucked away. Following the Yellow Box warehouse incident, he was vigorously interrogated and investigated, but Mikami (Who denied having been there and even created a false alibi) and Misa helped Kira clear suspicions. With the genius detectives' only lead gone, the NPA had no choice but to give up the case.
Kira sat down in his bedroom with his notebook. As chief and as a rather proficient hacker, he had access to the entire criminal database of the NPA. He quickly went over the most recent reports from his foreign eyes and got to work. A criminal was killed every half hour, and he was always working twenty-three days ahead of time. Including the criminals he instructed Mikami to take care of, ninety-six criminals a day was the maximum, so Kira had to make the best of it. The victims were seventy-five percent well-heard of, important people; prominent gang bosses, mass-murderers, and the like. Ten percent was lesser criminals who were in jail or about to be captured, and the final five percent was reserved for pickpockets, those who inhabit dark alleyways, people with nothing to their name. This minority was more to instill fear in the people than to eliminate, and it seemed to be working. It wasn't hard to find five criminals a day that fit that bill, but the numbers were certainly dwindling.
Kira laid down. This was his life now: Work, kill, sleep. Work, kill, sleep.
He was forgetting something, he knew, but his nightly hauntings took hold of his consciousness before the word food even surfaced in his head. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it was noted that he hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, but it was interrupted by a sudden, vivid vision-
Light's eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. Red, barren wasteland stretched out on all sides, and mammoth bones littered the ground. He was standing beneath a particularly large ribcage that made a cracking noise every so often and swayed dangerously in the strong winds. Dozens of black, bird-like figures rose from the distance, blotting out what little light there was, and he could do nothing but watch in wonder as the mass of wings began to emit a low screech.
Realizing that he had been here before, and that he knew what was coming next, Light dove for the ground a second too late. The creatures suddenly pitched into a downward spiral, spearing anything that happened to be in the way of their descent. The ribcage began to crumble under their combined efforts, falling in increasingly larger pieces. Light huddled into himself as the massive structure began to crash to the ground around him, some chunks larger than a house threatening to gouge their way into his skin. The predators began to target the young man now that his refuge was gone.
Light screamed as grotesque, black beaks bore into his skin. He could feel the flesh being ripped off him as he fell to his knees, paralyzed with pain. The creatures were ruthless; pecking at his eyes, yanking his hair out in clumps, not leaving so much as a shred of meat on his bones.
A lifetime later, they left Light lying motionless in a pool of blood. His blood. Brown eyes widened with fear, his very being chanting five words over and over:
I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to
"Up early again? You're so boring lately," Ryuk whined. Kira silenced him with a glare before packing his bag. Brown hair was out the door before the Shinigami even got his apple. There were no interesting cases to work on, so Kira was forced to pinpoint the whereabouts of an art thief. An art thief. There were so many criminals who had done so much worse- He had seen them through his own network- and yet he was tracking down a man who decided to put something pretty somewhere other than a public display.
No crime should really go unexcused, he knew, but he never had much of a taste for the arts. They didn't matter nearly as much as the murderers and traitors that were a danger to mankind.
Kira paused, giving a small chuckle. That might be the most hypocritical thing I've thought all week, he mused. He was a murderer, there was no denying it. Six hundred and seventy-two people dying every week, about two thousand, six hundred and eighty-eight every month, and he was the cause of it. He was a traitor, too- He betrayed the entire Task Force, for one.
Not that that particularly mattered; was it really betrayal when the betrayed was dead? Probably, but Kira decided that the answer was a resounding no.
He stepped through the apartment door- Unlocked, he noticed with dread- only to be attacked by an overenthusiastic Misa.
"Li~ight! You're home so early! I feel like I haven't seen you in days! Even though we live together… Ah, I know!" Kira held back a groan as Misa rattled on, "You should come to my next shoot! It starts in half an hour; I just stopped home to change."
"I don't know, there's a big case going on right now. I needed the database I have saved on my own computer to check something, so I was just going to work from home for the rest of the day," he lied through his teeth. Misa pouted but was convinced, leaving him free to slip into his room and review the reports for the day. He finished up with a list of names inconspicuously sent to Mikami at only four-thirty, and frowned at his computer.
It was too early to sleep, but he didn't have much else to do.
His eyes fell on his tennis equipment, which was stuffed in a spider-infested corner. It wouldn't be fitting for God to be out of shape, anyway, he mused as he picked the racket up and tossed it between his hands.
Kira stood behind his building, idly bouncing the ball off the aged brick wall. It would occasionally hit a crevice and fly back at some odd angle, but it was overall a dull experience. He thought back to the last time he played tennis, his match with L, and caught the tennis ball with his left hand.
For a long moment, he stood with his left arm raised and his head down.
At least that was interesting.
Shadows began to creep to the east as Kira returned to his room.
He slept.
Light's eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. Black nothingness stretched out on all sides, and small swirls of grey littered the horizon. He was standing in an empty field with no clear sky or ground. Dozens of white, bird-like figures rose from the distance, giving off a slight glow, and he could do nothing but watch in wonder as the mass of wings began to emit a low ringing noise.
He had never been here before, and had no idea what was going to happen next, but Light instinctually dove for the ground a second too late. The creatures suddenly pitched into a downward spiral, effortlessly piercing through the darkness. Light huddled into himself as the darkness suddenly shattered, cracks of blinding white showing through this illusion. The cracks widened into holes, and thousands of the bird-creatures flooded the black with white.
Light screamed as the darkness fell around him. It cracked and fell until everything was white... Everything save a large L in front of him.
A lifetime later, even the L shattered. Light lay motionless in a pool of blood. L's blood and Near's blood and the blood of the Task Force, Mello's blood and Matt's blood and the blood of everyone he killed with the accursed notebook. Brown eyes widened with terror, his very being began to chant three words over and over:
This cannot continue. This cannot continue. This cannot continue. This cannot...
A/N:
Ah, here it is. I've been thinking about this fic for a while, to be honest, and it feels good to finally write it. I'll be taking ideas from that alternate ending that was circulating a while back, where Light has to die as many times as he killed.
If you notice any mistakes or see something you like, don't feel shy to drop a review! uwu
-Courubus