L was a petty child, playing with his newest toy—Kira, Light Yagami, the latest and greatest invention. And it made her sick, because only she could see it. Kira had given away his eyes to regain his status of Light, and the rest of the world had never seen as they had seen. So now only she was witness to L's true motives—Ryuk in the flesh, searching for entertainment through crimes that deserved justice. Watari had created a monster all those years ago, a spoiled, brilliant child—one that would throw Light away the moment he was finished.
Like a broken doll, like garbage, Light would be thrown into nothingness, because L didn't care. Or perhaps L would stuff him into some forgotten prison, watch as he slowly drove himself mad (Kira didn't do well inside stone walls), waiting for his entertainment to come back to life, for his broken doll to fix itself. That was not justice. Neither option was justice; it was human pride and avarice, a monstrous tale of power between two men who told themselves they were god. Only one was aware of the consequences.
Ryuzaki and Light sat before her on the couch, Light with his arms crossed, ignoring L's gaze. Kira would have met that gaze head on; Kira would have made it clear that he wanted L bleeding before his feet by the end of this; Kira would make it clear that L was no better than the common criminal, and that he would die for it. Kira was ruthless, but not so ruthless as L: Light and Ryuzaki, two masks of innocence—one of higher caliber than the other. But both did the job; both hid the loathing in their eyes.
And to think some people had thought them in love. She found it ridiculous now—she was laughing at the mere hint of it. It was too risky for either, to manipulate through sex and emotion. Both could win without taking such actions. There was no reason for them to become lovers, so they hated each other instead.
It was becoming more hilarious with each turn. What had once been horrifying was now humorous. She was laughing at them, laughing at the sheer idiocy of the game they were playing. Because only she saw where it ended now, on the floor in his enemy's arms, his name on a shadow's pen. Yes, such pleasant ways to end the game. She was laughing because she was losing her connection to them. She truly was his third shadow now. Indifferent and distantly amused, she waited like Ryuk, watching him play the game though she knew what he would do next.
She would never return home. There was no home for her to go back to. She would not fit there, though her physical body met all the requirements of that dimension. Her mind had been molded to the world of the Death Notes; she was as much a character in the game as they were—no longer an outsider, no longer a spectator standing on the sidelines. The old ways had changed; her old life was gone, a dream left to be forgotten.
She would die in a world filled with Shinigami and Notebooks, and secretly, she was glad.