Content Warnings: Brief depictions of death/violence, stalkery, depictions of PTSD
"We gather in the court this 12th day of November, 2003, for the continuation of The People of Kyoto vs. Kenshin Kuroda, for the second degree murder of Hikari and Aiko Amane. The court is now in session. Are all parties present?"
"Yes, your honor. My name is Masashi Saito. I am acting on behalf of the accused."
"Very well. I will now call the defendant to begin their case. Please call your first witness."
"Thank you, your honor. The defendant calls Misa Amane to the stand."
Misa's breath hitched slightly; she tugged the length of her skirt to midway down her thighs before standing to make her way to the front of the room. Her lawyer had told her to dress more modestly to these trials, so she had bought herself a fitted beige blazer to wear because it had looked crisp and put together on the mannequin. And she had forgone wearing any wigs; her long black hair was neatly combed and fell elegantly down her back. But her skirt was still too short. She hadn't been able to help herself; she had loved the way it paired with her jacket and her little red hat in the mirror, and in the moment it had looked professional but not without that chic touch that reminded everyone she was Misa-Misa, the up and coming model. But now, standing in front of the cold-eyed courtroom, she no longer felt like Misa-Misa. She felt like Misa Amane, the girl who had watched her parents die in front of her and somehow couldn't convince the rest of the world that she remembered it properly.
"Would you like to affirm or swear an oath?" The judge asked.
"Affirm."
"Do you affirm to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
"Yes." She said. She had meant to make it sound firm and confident, but it fell out of her mouth clumsily in her nervous rush.
"Please state your name for the record."
"My name is Misa Amane. I am the daughter of the victims."
Her face burned inexplicably as she said this. It wasn't the first time they'd called her to the stand. She'd been to every one of these stupid trial sessions for the past few months, ever since that day back in May. Five months and twenty-four days, and where had it gotten her? The man who had murdered her parents was still in that same room with her. She could feel him getting more and more smug every time the court convened. If this stupid case went on for much longer, Misa was afraid she'd never get to see that monster behind bars.
"Miss Amane, will you please tell the court what you remember from the night of May 19th, 2003?"
She swallowed dryly and leaned towards the microphone. "It was late." She said. "I was asleep, and then I woke up to the sound of some kind of scuffle downstairs. There was some banging, and clattering, and I heard my parents run down. I wasn't sure what was going on…"
Her voice began wavering, and she locked eyes with her lawyer. You have to stay calm. He had told her last time. The more sure you sound of yourself, the more likely they are to believe you.
She paused, swallowed again, and then continued. "On my alarm clock, I saw that it was just past 11 pm. I could hear my parents begin shouting downstairs, and another voice I didn't recognize, shouting louder and angrier. It made me scared. But I wanted to see what was going on. I wanted to make sure my parents were alright. So I walked to the top of the stairs, quietly."
Her heart was pounding in her chest. Images flashed through her mind like a slideshow, and she gripped the glossy wood of the podium, trying to ground herself. It's November 12th. You're not there. Keep going.
"I heard my mother, she was crying…" Her voice was trembling again, but she was afraid that if she stopped now she wouldn't be able to continue. "She was begging with the stranger. She said 'Please, you can take whatever you want, but don't hurt us or our little girl.' And he said, 'There's nothing down here but worthless shit. I bet your pretty little daughter has some nicer things for me.' And my parents started screaming… they didn't want him to go upstairs. They didn't want to put me in danger." She was dimly aware that there were tears streaming down her face, and she tried to brush them away nonchalantly with a shaking hand. "Then I heard… I heard gunshots… and I ran downstairs… and…"
They're laying on the floor. On your floor. Your mother's nightgown is stained red, spreading from a spot on her chest, your father's glasses sit broken next to his face, and you realize with a horrible sinking feeling that your parents are dead, and your head feels fuzzy and your lungs feel like they're being crushed into dust, and then you look up, and you see a man standing above them holding a shotgun with shaking fingers and a crazed look in his eyes…
"I saw him!" She choked, digging her ruby red nails into the podium. "I saw him standing over my dead parents, and he saw me, and then he turned and ran. It was him." She pointed vindictively across the room, knowing exactly where he was seated but not daring to look him in the eyes again for fear that it would draw her back into that day. "He's the man who killed my parents."
The room felt deadly silent. All she could hear was her own unsteady breathing, loud as a symphony in her ears.
"Miss Amane, seeing your parents dead on the floor put you in quite an emotional state, didn't it?" Saito said calmly.
"Objection!" A clear voice rang sharply through the room.
"Withdrawn." Saito said, with a note of annoyance. "Miss Amane, how did it make you feel to see your parents lying dead on the floor?"
"Awful." She said, in a voice that was barely a whisper. "It was the worst feeling in the world."
"And does it upset you at all to have to think about that moment again?"
She wasn't stupid. She knew exactly the kind of case that scumbag and his filthy lawyer were trying to build for themselves. But there was no way to answer his questions any differently. She wiped her face again. "Yes."
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury;" Saito began. "The witness described herself as feeling 'scared' and 'awful' during the events that took place on that night. She admits that even recounting these events upsets her. I would now like to bring attention to the studies that have been done on false convictions, based on unreliable testimony from witnesses who were too hysterical to properly remember-"
"I am not hysterical! I know what I saw!"
"Objection!"
"Order!" The judge tapped his gavel briefly on the sound block. "Miss Amane, please hold your tongue."
A bubbling pit of anger began forming in Misa's stomach, and she scowled at Saito in rage. With a small smirk dancing on his lips, he continued:
"As you can see, this young girl is clearly not in the right state of mind for her testimony to be taken as fact-"
"I am not a young girl!" Misa shrieked, leaning over the edge of her podium venomously.
"Objection!"
"I'm nineteen years old, and I know what I saw! I know who killed my own damn parents!-"
"Miss Amane!"
She recognized that voice. It was different from Saito, different from the judge. The same voice who had objected to Saito's leading question earlier. The same voice that now echoed in her head once more, warning her to stay calm, to not get overly emotional during her testimony.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I must admit I am growing impatient with Mr. Kuroda and his defendant." Misa's lawyer began in a carefully reserved tone. "This is not the first time my client has been called as a witness and asked to recount the events of that night, and it is not the first time her testimony has been called into question. I refute this implication that the only thing pointing towards Mr. Kuroda's guilt is the testimony of one girl. So far, the accused has only been able to provide an alibi from his mother, who claimed he was sleeping in his room on the night of the incident, but avoided further questioning and could not confirm that she had seen him in his room at the exact moment the crime took place. I, for one, am curious to know why the accused owns a gun of the same model that was identified in the autopsy as having been the murder weapon for the two victims, and I don't see how forcing my client to recall such a devastating incident would help to answer that question."
Misa's heart filled with warmth, and she barely managed to suppress a smile. He was stone-faced and sharp-tongued, her lawyer, but she knew he truly cared about bringing people to justice, and for that she was eternally grateful.
"Your honor, on behalf of my client, I would like to withhold further questions until I can present another witness for the court." said Saito.
"Very well. Would the prosecutor like to take any further actions at this time?"
"None at this time, your honor."
"Very well. The court will reconvene at the next scheduled meeting. The judge knocked his gavel briefly on the block once again. "Adjourned."
The tension in the courtroom instantly dissolved. Misa let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and stood up, desperate to get out.
"Misa." She felt her lawyer's voice quietly in her ear. "Can we talk outside?"
Her eyes fell to the ground and she nodded slightly. She should have expected this.
When they were outside of the courtroom, he turned to look at her up and down.
She sighed. "I know, I know, I shouldn't have gotten upset, and I shouldn't have started crying, and I shouldn't have worn this skirt."
"Misa." He began, in a voice that was firm but not unkind, as he placed his hands gently on her shoulders and looked down to meet her gaze. "I know what you're saying is true. I know you know that, too. I know that- man," A look of anger flickered briefly across his face- "Is guilty, and I know he knows that too. But you have to understand, just being right isn't enough in these situations. You have to convince everyone that you're right. And you must believe me when I say that I want to see Kenshin Kuroda locked behind bars as much as you do… but Misa, if you don't work with me here, I'm starting to fear that we may never see that happen. If you continue to react in the way that you did, you're only feeding into his trap."
His tone softened, and he dropped his hands to his sides again. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
"Yes." She said, because she did, and she knew that of course he was right. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."
The corners of his lips twitched up briefly. He wasn't one for smiling, but every time she told him how grateful she was his lips would twitch up in the same way. She knew he prided himself greatly in being able to defend and protect people like her.
"That's what I'm here for." He said. Then his eyes scanned her, more serious. "Now listen, Misa: With the way things are going right now, I expect Saito's next move is to bring your therapist as a witness. Can you think of anything you may have said to her that could serve against you?"
She frowned. "I… I don't know… she says I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from that day. She's mostly trying to help me get over it, I think."
"That's not good." He muttered. "They'll use that to further their proof that you're not in the right state of mind to be giving a testimony- I know it's not true, Misa, I'm just telling you that's what they'll say." He said, noticing the flash of anger on her face. "Just… see if you can talk to her before the next date, and make her aware of the situation. We can still do this. I believe in you."
She smiled at him and nodded, once, in affirmation. "I believe in you too, Mikami. We'll definitely win this."
"You know, I've already told you, you can call me Teru." He said with another slight smile, adjusting his glasses as he turned to leave.
There is no color in the Shinigami realm. Only an endless landscape of grays and blacks, and the ashen white hue of half-buried skeletons in the sandy ground. The only color comes from the Shinigami themselves, in accents of deep blue and rich purple, or the occasional vibrant display of gold and jewels.
"Today's the day, isn't it?" Says Rem, towering over her much smaller friend. "The day the human girl dies."
"I just don't understand." Gelus sounds breathy, desperate, almost pained. Far too emotional for how a Shinigami ought to talk. "She seems so full of life. It's… not fair."
Rem stares into the swirling portal into the human world. Like everything else, it is framed in a dull, dark grey. She kneels down next to her friend. She can't pretend it hasn't piqued her interest, this human girl Gelus can't take his eyes off of, young and bright and full of life despite everything that the world seems to have thrown at her, all the while unaware of the ticking time bomb above her head set to go off far too soon. She doesn't understand either, why today of all days her life should end, and she's curious to find out.
The girl stopped at a cafe right now. It's still light out, although it looks like it may get dark soon; late afternoon, is that what they call it? She's never bothered paying that much attention to the affairs of the human world. The sky doesn't change in the Shinigami realm; it's always just another shade of grey.
She has a red hat on. She's sipping from a small cup and eating a slice of human cake topped with juicy-looking fruit. Rem always thought the food in the human world looked delicious; much better, at least, than the shriveled, sandy garbage they get in the Shinigami realm. From the numbers hovering above her forehead, Rem can see that the girl has no more than a few hours left. It will happen at night, then. Before the start of the next day, but long after she has finished her meal.
Rem can't see her face very well, but it seems that she decides to leave after turning to the window and noticing how the sky is getting dimmer.
"She has a long way to walk." Gelus says softly, never tearing his eyes off the girl. "Before she can get home."
He spends all day doing this. She doesn't know how; she's getting antsy already. Is this human girl really that mesmerizing? Important enough for him to memorize all the streets and houses and shops in her area so he knows exactly how far away she is from her home?
She stops at a magazine store on the way, picks up a few fashion magazines, spends a little while looking fondly over the magical girl mangas before deciding against it. Rem wants to scream at her, to shake her by the shoulders, to tell her that her time is running out and she doesn't have time to buy magazines and she should get back to the safety of her home as soon as possible and can't she see she only has half an hour left? Twenty minutes? Fifteen?
The sky is entirely dark when it happens. She turns into an alleyway, and Gelus makes a sound of dismay, because he must know from all his obsessive watching that this is not a good alleyway for a young pretty girl to walk through when the sky is this dark.
She has three minutes left when the man appears. He is tall and rugged, and as he melts out of the shadows Rem realizes with alarm that she can't tell how long he's been there. Was he following her since the magazine store? Since the cafe?
He sways unsteadily towards her, and she can't hear what they're saying but she can see the crazed glint in his eyes and the girl stepping back fearfully.
Less than two minutes left.
A sudden sound from beside her pulls her out of her trance. Gelus is rocking back and forth on his feet, shrieking and moaning in utter distress, a complete and utter mess as he watches the scene unfold before him.
"Gelus." Rem says sharply.
He shakes his head, sputtering half-formed sentences and incoherent words, and with shaking hands he begins to pull out his Death Note.
"Gelus, what are you doing?" Rem says, but he ignores her, eyes frantically darting across the scene in the portal in front of them. The girl has a minute and thirteen seconds left. Twelve. Eleven. Ten.
"Tsu...to...mu...Yu...ki...da..." He breathes, scribbling in his note, and Rem's eyes widen as she realizes what he's doing. He's writing down the stalker's name. He's saving the girl's life.
She's never seen it happen before, never even heard of it, never considered the possibility. But she doesn't have time to open her mouth and warn him of the potential consequences, tell him to just let it go, that it doesn't matter, before he throws down his pen with a definitive clatter and looks up, a grin stretching across his face.
He's done it.
She has fifty-eight seconds left.
She's backing up into the corner of the alleyway now, and the man is still saying something to her, this time much more vehemently; his whole chest is moving as he speaks. Rem can see the girl shaking. She must be trembling extremely hard for it to be noticeable even from so far away.
The man pulls out a knife. Twenty-two seconds.
He begins charging at her, and the girl drops her bag and lifts her hand in front of her face. Rem doesn't have to be able to hear to know that she is screaming.
Eighteen seconds.
"I'm in love with you, and I always have been!"
He seemingly came out of nowhere, jumping suddenly out of the dark shadows of the alleyway. There was something dangerously unstable about the way he moved towards her, the way his eyes flitted around maniacally. And as he began to speak, she realized with a chill that he must have been following her for a long time.
How long, exactly?
She could feel her legs start to tremble uncontrollably as her heart rate sped up. She backed up as he tried to get closer to her, her mind racing. How could she get him to leave? Was there any chance he'd calm down? Was there any chance someone would come and help her? Of course not. She was all alone, in the middle of the night, in a completely empty alleyway, cornered by a crazy stalker. No one was going to save her. Stupid, stupid girl. Hot tears began trickling down her cheeks. What were you thinking? Now you're going to die here. He's going to kill you.
Because of course, he was armed. Of course he had a knife, and he was charging at her, and there was nothing she could do but cry out in anguish and fear and hold her hands in front of her face as if that would do anything at all to protect her.
At least I'll see you again. She thought, as she squeezed her eyes shut. Mom, dad. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.
But death did not come.
At first she thought she had already died, and her brain had simply not caught on to that fact yet. But then she heard a strained choking noise and the unmistakable clatter of metal hitting the ground, and she slowly lowered her arms to take in the scene in front of her.
The man had collapsed very suddenly, no more than two feet away from her, and was clutching at his chest desperately as he tried to take in a breath. His eyes bulged wildly for a moment before clouding over, and then he fell completely still.
Misa was suddenly aware of her loud, ragged breathing, which was now the only thing making any sound in the alleyway. Reality was starting to swim in front of her, the same way it had so many months ago when she had run downstairs to find the sight of her parents lying in their own blood. In her mind, she was still in the alleyway. She was still cowering in the corner, waiting for death. But somehow her legs managed to start sprinting towards the direction of her house, and her hands managed to find her keys and unlock the door, even as she replayed what had felt like her final moments over and over again like a broken record.
"And then what did you do?"
"Huh?"
Misa blinked and looked up. Her therapist was looking at her with an expectant, albeit gentle, expression.
"Once you managed to get home, do you remember what you did after that?"
"I... went to sleep, I guess. I don't know. It all feels like a blur."
"And what did you do the next day? When you woke up?"
She shook her head. "I don't know."
"Did you have coffee in the morning? Do you remember what you ate?"
"No, I… I don't know. I don't remember. I'm sorry." She lowered her gaze, absently taking note of her surroundings as if to remind herself that they were really there. A round blue rug. Two black leather comfy chairs. An abstract analog clock on the wall. A small desk in the corner with a plaque reading Kazue Ishikawa, MD.
"That's all right." Ishikawa said gently. "Just tell me if you remember doing anything significant between that night and our meeting today."
"I don't think I did. I don't know. I was afraid to go out… I think I just watched the news, mostly. It hasn't been that long, you know. That was, what, two days ago?"
Ishikawa inhaled slightly, and Misa looked up at her with alarm.
"What?"
Ishikawa hesitated for a moment, before levelling her eyes with Misa's. "Misa, you said this happened the same day of your last court meeting, right?"
"Yeah… I do remember that much. I remember because I was wearing my blazer."
"Your court meeting was on November 12th. Today is November 18th, Misa. It's been six days."
Misa blinked and looked down at her hands. "Oh." The word felt heavy in her mouth.
"Misa, this isn't good." Ishikawa began, not bothering to hide the concern in her voice. "You've already shown symptoms of post-traumatic stress from the incident that occured last May. To be re-traumatized in this way after making so much progress…"
These words jarred something in Misa's memory, and she jumped to her feet suddenly in alarm. "Ishikawa, please forget I said anything just now!"
"What?" Ishikawa looked completely taken aback. "Misa, you know I can't do that. I have to put in my report that you're experiencing PTSD again from a secondary incident-"
"No!" Misa shook her head vehemently. "Mikami said Kuroda's lawyer is going to call you in as a witness, to prove that my testimony is unreliable. If they know that this happened just a few days ago, they'll just use it as further evidence that I'm not in my right mind!" She fell to her knees and clasped her arms together, and her voice trembled as she continued. "Please, please, I can't afford to let that happen. I'm already losing this case. Please."
Ishikawa looked down at her with pain and pity in her eyes. "Misa… I'm sorry. I promise I'll do everything I can not to contribute to them painting you in that light. I don't have to disclose this information to them if it isn't relevant. But I do need to put it in my record, for your sake. Is that alright?"
Misa bowed her head, feeling slightly embarrassed for putting on such a display. "A- Alright." She got up and dusted her knees off.
"It looks like we're overtime for today." Said Ishikawa, glancing at the clock on her wall. "Try to practice the grounding exercises we went over, alright? And Misa, take care of yourself."
The older woman placed her hand gently on Misa's arm for a moment. Misa nodded.
"I'll try. Thank you, Ishikawa. Same time next week."
There is no color in the Shinigami realm. But Gelus's ashes glitter beneath her feet, reflecting off of a light Rem cannot see. She leans over and gently picks up his Death Note with her skeletal fingers.
Shinigami do not generally get sad. This is not to say that they cannot feel emotion, that they cannot fall in love; but it is rare for an immortal being to feel anything as deeply as a mortal would. Ryuk craves apples. Armonia likes jewelry. Sidoh isn't very bright. And Rem… Rem is curious. Not morbidly so. But curious enough to hang around Gelus when he peered into the human world, and curious enough to pick up his note after he has died.
Died.
It is a strange thing, for a god of death to die. Before today, Rem would not have been able to say with certainty whether it was even possible. Yes, theoretically, a Shinigami must keep writing down names in order to keep extending its lifespan, but this feat is so easy, so mindless, that no one ever bothers to consider the alternative. The possibility of a friend's death was never on Rem's radar.
She doesn't know whether she feels sad. But she feels… odd.
And she is curious. Curious as to how Gelus could have cared so much about one human that he was willing to do anything to protect her. She's certainly never met a Shinigami who felt emotions that strongly. She wonders what he saw in her dainty heels and little red hat, in her Shoujo mangas and strawberry shortcake.
She strokes her fingernails absentmindedly across the leather cover of the notebook. A Shinigami doesn't need two notebooks. She considers just keeping it on her belt, never using it, as a token of sorts, but something about that makes her feel uncomfortable. Should she just leave it there? No, she feels strangely protective over it now. She doesn't want another Shinigami coming and taking it. Besides, she doesn't trust a lot of the others.
The thought that perhaps she should move somewhere less out in the open just begins to cross her mind when she hears a familiar croon of excitement.
"My my, Rem, what have you got there?"
She doesn't bother to hide the distaste on her face. Of all the Shinigami she would want imposing on her right now, Ryuk falls pretty near the bottom of her list.
"It's none of your business." She begins, but he's already hopped down in front of her and caught sight of the note in her hand.
"That's not your note, is it?" His eyes trail down to her belt, where her own note is still safely strapped. His eyes light up. "It isn't! Say, Rem, how'd you manage to snag a second Death Note?"
She scowls. "Why would you want to know? I don't trust your intentions, Ryuk."
He cackles loudly. "I have nothing to hide from you. If you really want to know, I've been trying to get my hands on another Death Note myself recently. I think it could be… fun, to experiment with."
"I really do not want to know about your idea of 'fun.'"
"Ohhh, but don't you?" His eyes twinkle mischievously. "I've seen you hanging around Gelus, observing the human world with him. Are you curious about the human world, Rem?"
Rem opens her mouth to answer, but finds that she doesn't quite know what to say.
"I… am curious about many things."
"Uh huh. Uh huh. Right." He somersaults closer to her and jabs a long, clawed finger into Gelus's book.
"With that, you'd be able to go to the human world."
She looks down at the book in her hands, and flicks through it almost absentmindedly. Gelus's handwriting is a sloppy scrawl, uneven against the lines on the page.
"Say, who does it belong to anyway?" Ryuk asks, craning over her shoulder to try and read what's inside.
She's not going to tell Ryuk what happened. Absolutely not. Who knows what he would do with that information. But how can she answer his question? It doesn't belong to Gelus anymore. Gelus is dead. But it doesn't really feel like it belongs to her, either. She picked it out of a pile of his ashes. She was nothing more than a bystander.
Rem stops when she gets to the page with Tsutomu Yukida's name on it. The writing is desperate, much larger and shakier than any of the other names. He wrote it without a moment's hesitation. He gave his life for this human girl.
She closes the book and looks up at Ryuk. "Excuse me. I have some business to attend to."
Author's Notes:
-Hi! This is my first published fanfiction so please bear with me. I can't promise to be consistent with updates or chapter length, and I also can't promise good writing, but I do have basically the entire plotline mapped out so expect this story to have a lot of content… eventually.
-I expect a lot of you will be coming from my TikTok of the same username (crypticapricity). If not, you can follow me on there where I'll probably be posting updates. I also do cosplay!
-As of now I'm using because all my favorite fanfictions have come from here, but I might also start posting on ao3 if I feel like it would work better? Like I said, I'm new at this.
-The title is a quote from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, because I love the parallels between that play and Death Note.
-The concept of Mikami being Misa's lawyer is taken from the Death Note Japanese drama, as well as the film adaptations.
-The name Tsutomu Yukida is also taken from the Japanese drama.