Mikami wasn't quite sure just when his loyalty for Kira turned into something more.
He supposed it was sometime between when he received the Death Note and been contacted by Kira; that was only logical. If not then, when would it have been?
Of course, Mikami had loved Kira. Kira was righteous, Kira was god. Mikami had gone everywhere, done everything to prove his loyalty, determined to make god see him.
For six years, he had worked furiously at his job, becoming one of the best prosecutors in the country, with a reputation for his love of justice. When Kira's kingdom had premiered, he went to every taping, striving to get asked his opinion on every show. He tried to be seen supporting Kira as often as he could, and made his opinions publicly known. He was loyal to god, and he wanted god to know it.
Yet...
Somewhere deep inside of him, hidden in the pit of his soul, part of Mikami hadn't dared to believe it. Somewhere inside, he knew it was too good to be true. The rumors of giant conspiracies, misreports, and false evidence got to him, and part of Mikami didn't really believe.
Mikami tried, Mikami was loyal in every sense of the word, but part of Mikami doubted.
It was too great, too great of an idea, too great of a concept, too great of a miracle to be real. He wished it was true, he dreamed it was true, he lived like it was true, but like all wishes and dreams, somewhere in the back of his mind...
...he knew the truth.
Kira...
...wasn't real.
Yet, he persevered. He tried. He tried for six years. He tried to believe. He tried to believe. Believing in a god or being part of a religion or a faith was never easy at first, was it? He stomped down hard on his doubt. He did his best to help Kira out through his limited means, hoping though his fervor he would forget his doubts.
And then...
...he got the Death Note.
All his faith in his god confirmed.
And Mikami believed.
The significance Mikami derived from that one act from Kira... knowing that he had been judged by god himself, that god knew he had doubted, but had seen his faith regardless, and not only had he been deemed worthy, but he had been deemed to be one of his followers... it was staggering, mind-boggling, and Mikami knew he would never be able to repay his god.
Ever since then, day after day, Mikami would faithfully sit at his desk, judging quietly, the room silent, save the occasionally muttered 'elimination.'
On occasion, (Mikami didn't remember any specific day; they all ran together after a while) Kira let Ryuuk, the shinigami, drop by and visit, and he would watch him judge the unrighteous and laugh.
Mikami didn't care.
Long into the night he wrote into the notebook, his precious proof of the existence of his god, Ryuuk laughing all the while, cackling that he had gone mad, and how amusing humans were.
It hardly mattered. Mikami would gladly give up his sanity for Kira. He would give Kira anything.
Ryuuk kept watching, and Mikami kept writing, quickly and efficiently, his fingers and stained with ink, murmuring to himself, his eyes narrowed, a thin, cruel smile on his lips as he wrote name after name, person after person, taking life after life.
Eventually, Ryuuk had stopped laughing and had just watched, astonished, as Mikami wrote furiously, fervently, that first night, never stopping. A criminal help up a bank and died. A man had a heart attack while raping a woman. A man kicked a man and keeled over and died. Fast and furiously, Mikami wrote their names, filling pages, pages, pages with the law of Kira.
"Err- Mikami? I don't think this is what Kira wanted..."
But Mikami was too far gone. Blood pounded in his ears, burning hotly through his reins. With a few strokes of a pen, he wiped out life, and the sent a wave of dizzying power and arousal rushing through his veins, and he went on, killing, eliminating, wiping out life, for himself and for Kira, for the new world they were trying to create.
Ryuuk edged out of the room, disconcerted. Mikami wrote on, breathing hard, pupils dilated, his eyes bloodshot and red.
Kira had given him this, this taste of power, and Mikami's loyalty had grown from adoration to full-blown infatuation, addiction. He was addicted to it, to this power he had, to wipe out life in forty short seconds, with nothing but a piece of paper and a pen.
He knew he was addicted, but (god help him!) he loved it, and he would do anything for the one who had given him this.
Anything.
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