Terrible chapter coming up. Angstporn and angstviolence. If you don't want that skip down to the end notes for the 'plot' points.


Light looked like a god. Beautiful face, fine silky hair, and perfect body. The way gods should look.

But he knew real gods didn't look like that. Gods were rotting masses of flesh. Protruding bones. Deteriorated internal organs. Gods looked like Light looked inside, after the thing called Kira was done ripping him apart.

It was strange, how he sometimes thought of himself and Kira as separate entities. As if the detached nature of the Death Note that made the killings so easy made his 'real self' separate from the killer. But it wasn't the case. It was too easy to think that because it would mean that he didn't have to feel the blood on his hands.

No, the things that you do make you who you are, and the ends justify the means. You feel the blood on your hands, and the ends justify the means.

Light might not be a god, but he was forgetting what it was like to be human. Remembering that was his why he kept his 'Chosen'. So that he could feel the blood on his hands and know that it was Light Yagami who was building the new world, not some 'Kira' spirit that dwelled.

The dark haired man on the floor, chained at the neck, beaten and bruised, looked up at his god sitting on that throne with upmost admiration, thinking of how lucky he was to be chosen, called upon to serve his god, to be locked away from the injustice of the world outside, in the warm exotic comfort of Kami's private sanctuary.

So beautiful, was this god of his. So perfect, the way that the golden glow reflected from the warm hues of the throne room played regally on his fair skin, chestnut hair, and brown eyes.

By comparison, he judged himself to be worthless, ugly, impure, disgusting. His long black hair, so common compared to silky chestnut strands. His eyes, he knew to be unsettling, people didn't like the look of them. Something was off about those eyes. Could it be that as he saw things about people that no one else could see, they could look into his eyes and realize that something was wrong? He didn't know. At least everyone in this chamber was used to his eyes, similar, or could at least understand.

How out of place he must look in this regal throneroom, while Kami appeared to have been born to inhabit this space.

Just then he blanched. How could he allow his mind to compare himself to God? He scolded himself. He couldn't continue, even if it had only been to admire. He must simply accept his worthlessness and move on. Yes, he believed that he was completely unworthy to kneel so close to the divine Kira-sama. He could only hope to be useful to his god, never loved. He gave all he had, but didn't dare hope for what he told himself he wanted most. He hoped for nothing in return for his devotion, he only hoped for that which God told him to. It was how he had learned to think.

The gorgeous god's auburn orbs glanced around the room and down at the two servants chained to the sides of his throne, and caught the trespassing dark, unsettling eye staring up at him in devotion.

Their eyes met and a shock of electricity shot through his spine. A cold stare held by warm eyes that he should not have seen. For the transgression of looking his god in the eye without permission the pale worshiper was starkly backhanded by his majestic deity. The impact threw him back to the limits of his bonds, further choking him.

A grin of playful schadenfreude from the lovely blonde girl chained on the right of the throne was cast his way. But the slap, a touch from Light… no, Kami, was a gift.

He shivered and whispered, "Thank you, Kami. I deserved that."

The air in the room grew tense, cold and intrusive on his naked flesh.

"Yes, you deserve to be punished, don't you?" God's warm honeyed voice echoed.
"I do, Kira-sama," the acolyte rasped, babying his reddened cheek, "Please, punish me."

A scathing glance was his answer, as the chain holding him in a seated position was unhooked. He stood, bowing his head reverently, as his god pulled upward on the collar. Long scars, both fresh and timeworn, from blades and whips were revealed along his lean, pale abdomen. There was little space on his body left pristine.

God's Right Hand, the beautiful blonde girl, held up his whip like an offering. He took it and walked slowly around the living corpse, inspecting all of the scars and wounds, looking for a fresh place to mark and finding few. The husk was almost worn out.

So human.

"Yes, you know why you're being punished," the god scorned, lightly touching the unspoiled patch of thigh with his weapon.

The human did. He always knew.

"I was disobedient."

He felt he harsh stinging crack on his skin. It was the right answer, but it was the also wrong answer.

"Because I am unworthy!" He answered more zealously.
"Yes. You are."

The next crack hit fast, harder, and in exactly the same place, stinging deeper. He could feel the whistle of it cutting through the air in his teeth.

Light felt adrenalin rush through his body. He believed that he could feel the blood in his veins move faster, he felt his skin tingle, and suddenly he was human. He was the bastard that everyone needed him to be. It felt good.

He watched the skin turn angry red under the ministrations of his fury. A few stinging hits was all that was needed. There was no need to waste more of the precious unmarked flesh, he had the presence of mind to retell himself. It was a dwindling resource, and whipping the bruises would be just as satisfying.

A scream was choked back as Kami changed his strike from quick jabs to bruising, blunt, slow thumps, and continued to hit up and down the fleshy parts of bare back.

When the chosen one sorted out words from screams in his throat he said, "Because I looked at my god without permission."

The strikes only came down harder. Searing. Wounding. He choked back pained cries.

When he couldn't take it anymore it was time for the right answer.

"Because I lost." He said, and the room was strangely silent as the slicing sound of the whip through the air was halted.

The god let the weapon fall from his hand, click and clatter down to the marble floor, and laughed his horrid laugh. Low at first, bubbling up from the throat, breaking his smile and escaping the mouth with blunt force. It became steadily louder and more manic, higher in pitch; It went on too long, as usual, until it sounded like bells.

"That's right, Lawliet." The he answered, slurring the name as if it were obscene.

He couldn't help but feel so wickedly superior, basking in the glory of his throneroom, the inner sanctum of his kingdom, looking down at the broken man standing before him who used to be his worthy opponent. The world was his.

It wasn't over yet; the woman on the floor held up a knife, without lifting her gaze. But the Left Hand saw her silent jeers. He always did. Her skin is flawless and beautiful, never cut or bruised. She doesn't even have to look at him to mock. Everything that Kira surrounded himself with was duality. Shingami, white and black; Chosen, male and female, ugly and beautiful; the symbols in the room, sacred and profane.

"Tell me what you're thinking now, L," He sneered, "You always loved your theories."

It's not an easy question. It's a mile marker for how broken he is. Everything he thinks until this point is a lie. Part of the show.

Six years ago L heard bells and showed Light that he knew that he lost. He showed him that if he was really a god, than so was L, because they are the same.

And then he disappeared.

Now Light was killing him, but slowly. Slowly, because he does not know what he will do when the mind or the body is gone. Lawliet is the only one who Light has ever needed.

He is not unworthy, or low, or any of that bullshit. Being useful to Light is a way to survive, because you can't win if you are dead.

If you can change the part of your brain, 'conscience' or 'heart', then you change yourself. You can build a fully coherent shadow-self out of lies and think with another mind entirely, serve it up to be twisted toyed with, and preserve what is truly 'you'. It is surprisingly easy, especially for a genius. So surprisingly easy to come out of. L didn't like how easy it is to change and rewire the mind that made him so special, but it's the kind of challenge that he loved, and all that he had to do for amusement.

Light believed that what he was doing was right because he made it right. He believed that he was a god.

But Light is no god of death. He has ethics, a conscience; He is better than gods of death because he can do it anyway. He would endure the stains and 'be the only bastard left', who else could? At first 'someone' had to do it, but he knew that it had to be him.

When he looks at the stains dyed into his hands and his conscience, he wills damned spots to stay because they are part of who he has come to be; part of his perfection. When he sees blood on his hands and feels nothing he thinks that he may finally be a god.

But not a God of death, something better; God of Humans.

And so that was L Lawliet's new game, he still won if Light was further gone than him.

With a voice as cryptic and smooth as it has ever sounded, much different than the voice he used before, he answers the question, "I think that getting what you want sometimes doesn't feel right."

The god of humans was a wrathful god, he thought, as he felt the knife run down his chest, past his stomach and to his hip, trying not to move. The sharp knife left only a scratch at first, and blood pooled to the surface of the skin a moment later. Bubbling up angrily like Kira's laughter.

And like Kira's laughter it goes on for too long. He's bleeding all over, he screams, Misa looks away, sweat stings the cuts, and he is exhausted.

Kira's perfect body presses against him, licking the cuts, bathing in red. His eyes have the look of madness, the warmth espoused before now hot like the fires of hell.

Kira and Light. Light who is Kira. They are the same thing, and so easily separable. He wants to think that Light is different from Kira because it isn't always like this. And yet, they really are the same.

As Light finished and felt the blood on his hands, L's mind slipped into darkness thinking 'Only Kira is in there now.'

He laughed at the visual pun. Darkness is the absence of light. The light was gone, and 'Light' was also gone. But it wasn't that funny; it was just darkness.

And then there were no thoughts, only the darkness.

But in a few hours he would wake up again and believe in perfect justice.

And gods that were beautiful.


Later, in a smaller private room, Light Yagami washed his hands.

As he relaxed for a moment, another dark-haired acolyte calls the room to speak to him.

"Lord Kira, your mother and sister are here to see you," says the man on the monitor.

Every word he dictates drips with respect and enthusiasm. Mikami truly loves Lord Kira, but he is not allowed anywhere near Light's inner sanctum. He has always protected the weak. He would not understand what it really takes to be a god; wouldn't understand his relationship with L; wouldn't understand the true nature of the duality of Kira.

There was no Kira and Light, just Kira and L.

And they always were closer than expected to the same thing.


For those who didn't read it: It turns out L is alive, he just disappeared six years ago instead of being dead. Now Light is keeping him captive and they're living out an even more dreadful version of the Mello/Matt/Near situation from the previous two chapters. Light is beating L badly, and L is trying to let him go insane, and neither is really getting off on it. They're just thinking about things, like they love to do.

And Misa and Rem are there.

Then Mikami tells Light that his mother and sister are in his castle to visit him in order to move the story along and establish that Mikami is there too.

For those who did read it: Did I fool anyone into thinking that L was Mikami, for the first part until I said it was L, or was everyone like, "why is L being so OOC?"

I tried to get some realistic thoughts for the characters, sorry everything is starting off so sad and angsty. It was hard to proofread but I wanted to get it up so I could move on.

I think that I'm going to do a chapter on a 'Revenge Triple Whammy' or 'Call me the Butler' before getting back to Matt, Mello, and Near. Tell me if this chapter made you hate the fic enough that you'd rather I do 'Call me the Butler' instead. Or if you want even more angst.