Practice what ye preach to me;
I heed ye not, for I know ye all.
Ye are living burning lies, and profanation to the garments which with stately steps ye sweep your marble palaces.
He preferred not to be told the future; he didn't believe in prophecy. Light Yagami didn't like the idea that his life had been mapped out for him. He asked nothing of the world she came from, nor of the book he had been conceived in.
"Our world is fragile; it's torn apart by murderers and thieves." He smiled as he spoke, looking out the glass of the window, watching his defined world with the apathetic gaze of a god. "I knew that when I became Kira. I don't care if our god exists in some other dimension—if our lives can be dictated by an ultimate power, what is Kira but a faceless, supreme being? If he can change the world with nothing but a pen and some paper, he can change the future."
"No, that means someone has decided the future for you. Your life has been scripted out, every thought you have, every word you speak—everything you do is because it has already been created for you." She watched as he turned from the window, looking her over, as if to see the words he was supposed to say. But she didn't count; she was the outsider staring in through the glass, accidently fallen through by mistake.
"Dreams turn to nightmares, nightmares turn to prophecy, prophecy turns to reality—and where does that leave us? God is a watchmaker—he merely sets the system into motion, fixing when structural errors occur. The actual world itself is not his concern. Neither is it your writer's concern what path I choose to follow. The fact that I exist means nothing; the fact that they set a course that I might follow means nothing." He was no longer Light Yagami, he was Kira—self assured and confident that the unseen gods were on his side, that he had allies in unseen places, that his power was so great that not even their tethers could contain it. It sickened her to the core.
So she closed her eyes and talked of Death Note no more; Light Yagami had his own visions of paradise, none tainted with the sight of his own blood.