Platinum Light

Japan's brightest student wants to end it all into the nothingness of death. Unbeknownst to him, where death is, there exists life and second chances...

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Disclaimers: If you wish to read Platinum End, please support the official release. Do not hesitate to check out this series.

Rating: Teen. Violence and mentions of violence. Language is not a worry.

Length: 3400 words, 14-15 minutes

Notes: Revelations, Chapter 22, verses 12 thru 14. I really want red text, but underline will do. Also, the POV swaps are not in chronological order. (It's just to keep the ambiguity up; it's no fun if all the facts are revealed.)

Volume I: Light

Chapter III

Detection

"Behold, I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to give to each person according to what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End."

Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they may have the right to the tree of life and may enter the city by its gates...

To the senior, really, the uppercase omega simply meant a variable for eletrical resistance. Now its meaning has expanded to fill an enigmatic human being who doubles as his enemy. The red omega letter jutting out amongst the white stains the senior's memory.

"That must be them," he hedges. "That must be L. No one what he or she looks like, sounds like, acts like. Someone as intelligent as him or herself would never publicly reveal. It will be impossible to kill L.

"Fény, what happens when 999 days are up and there's more than one Candidate remaining?"

Her face darkens. "Don't let that happen."

"...alright. You're certain he's in Japan, too? How do Candidates get picked?"

Fény looks briefly unnerved. She bites her lip in thought, continuing with, "Japan is...a place where suicides are high. The only way for a human to enter the test is by suicide. The human can decline the offer and die, but if they find a will to live, they will be granted power."

Suicide. That's what she was so hesitant to tell him ages ago. It makes sense, however that would mean the great L tried to kill himself. For what reason would he do that? It seems so against his character to allow for a suicide.

"Isn't that strange?" the senior confers. "L isn't the person to commit suicide."

"Most can say the same of you," she jests.

He scowls. "I won't believe that," he replies vaguely. An idea forms in his head, sudden. "Higuchi's been quiet, unlike Mikami. It may be possible that L managed to squeeze information out him and entered the test that way..."

"Squeezing information from humans? How disgusting."

"...no, not literally." Probably. They could have tortured him. "L could have used that information to join the test."

"If you are sure this person is...L," Fény says skeptically.

"Now I've got to balance my judgement, this test, and finding L's identity. Finding his identity would kill two birds with one stone," he says, naturally using male pronouns. "I'll be able to get rid of this person who wants to find this 'serial killer' and the biggest threat to this competition."

"Isn't okay to let L win? You said you do not want to become God."

"I don't. I'll become a messiah, Fény. But this person who does want to be God is far too mysterious and strange. Tell me you wouldn't want to serve under a man whose face you don't know."

Fény shakes her head quickly. "What is our objective?"

"Well, there's two more days until Higuchi's deadline, but if he's under L's custody, we'll have to resort to the next best thing: getting rid of Mikami. Those two miscreants are not suited to become God."

"I see."

"When I get back from purging this world, I will try my best to dig up information on Mikami. Luckily half my work is done by the police already." He smiles confidently. The Japanese police had been searching up these two men during the two weeks, though it never hurts to do extra research. The senior opens the window to his room, extends his wings, and disappears in a flash of red. Fény goes to shut the window and curtains.

. . .Platinum Light. . .

His eyes begin to ache from scrutinizing the recordings for so long. The sudden onset of pain does little to slow down the pace he works, nor falters or hinders his observational skills. He continues watching the tapes of every death, every deceased criminal who died near a surveillance camera.

"What do you wish to deduce from these recordings?" speaks a voice in a dark corner of the barely lit room. In fact, the only thing illuminating the room is the bluish light of the laptop that covers the human's body.

What do I want? I want a clue. A starting point. This is a serial killer who murders only criminals, the really foul kinds, all over the world. Is this killer more than one? Then how come every death indicates nothing to connect a person to; have I been wrong in assuming a person eventually messes up? The criminal goes about a normal day with nothing sinister afoot, yet they die suddenly and quickly. Why is that?

"If you cannot deduce anything," continues the slightly reverberating voice, "what can you induce from the known information?"

The man doesn't like inductions. He prefers reliable deductions. Inductions are claims created by general data. As such, an induction could be an observation. For example, a dog park full of dogs having female owners leads to the conclusion that all dog owners must be female. However, inductions are as good a place to start.

Because so many deaths happen all over the world, time of deaths vary so rapidly. He can only assume that if one person held a base of operations, the eastern half of the world is suspicious. If the person is to live a normal life within a working day, this person could only begin work after 15:00. This can also rule out countries with longer or shorter work periods, as times of deaths, though scattered across time zones, typically end in reoccurring minutes.

Disregarding hours, the minutes are frequently 23, 30, 47, 50, 56, 58. He has never seen any minute at mark 00. But this information is only related to Monday through Friday patterns without holidays. Should this person be under an 8 to 15 schedule, it then becomes easier to narrow down which jobs end around 15:00 within the eastern side of the world. Therefore, time zones that have an hour difference - no 15 minutes or any of the sort - have deaths line up with after working hours. A death at 12:23 is a country three hours earlier than 15:23. Yes, on a working day, the latest deaths always occur in the eastern half: around midnight. But time of deaths scatter tremendously on weekends and holidays and never on work days, so he feels his instinct must be right somehow.

Based upon the time of deaths, the killer must be working after traditional work hours.

It isn't much of a lead, yet it's a good start. It bothers him he has nothing else to work on. He plays another recording without thinking. His eyes lock onto every minute detail of the prisoner before his death. Gordon Hue, was it? Nevertheless, he does something interesting. He peers into his soup and quickly turns around. Microphones record no sound or movement outside the door despite being programmed to pick up the slightest traces of audio. He must have saw something yet heard nothing. Then Hue dies, like the rest. But his eyes remain searching for something behind him as he collapses, terrified.

"What did you see, Hue?" he mutters to himself, bitting his nail.

"Have you reached a conclusion?" the voice rings, cutting through the silence.

The man replays the tape and slows it down. Hue looks down, turns, eyes focus on a thing before starting to search and he starts to die. Hue was completely fine until he looked at whatever he saw.

"I need more recordings in which the criminals behaved suspiciously before death," speaks the man judging recordings into a small microphone, resting beside the computer.

The microphone makes a pop of static. "Suspicious behavior such as...?"

"Seeing something immediately before death. Nothing else."

The man continues replaying tapes until his assistant finishes reviewing the footage. He receives 3 tapes. The first is a man named Mario. He too saw something before his death; his eyes were firmly latched onto a thing just outside the camera's sight, but the man can tell exactly when Mario loses the sight as he starts to die.

"There's something there that's killing them," he whispers. "None of the files report a person being present; more than two-thirds of the deaths happened when the criminal was alone. But there's something there."

An invisible person killing criminals. This couldn't be the work of a God. It's far too humanlike. Why would God allow himself to be caught four times? Why would God have the motivation to do this now of all times, during this game of Godhood?

Something clicks into place. He makes a choked gasp.

With 13 people with supernatural abilities running around and the deaths coinciding near the beginning of the game, this case and the Candidacy must be interconnected.

He's been looking at it as if a human could be capable of these murders. And if he lined up Japan's time zone, there are several instances of jobs closing at 15:00 or 15:20, leading to the deaths at the reoccurring minutes, but different hours.

"I believe you have made a proper deduction," the voice reverberates, sound hallow in the room.

The man leans close to the microphone. "I've experienced a breakthrough in this case. Get the police ready for this, Watari."

. . .Platinum Light. . .

The evening of the 9th of August, 2003 is spent following in the footsteps of Mikami Teru. This man is obsessed with routine. The police figured it out, the senior easily stole this data and asked about Mikami (albeit nonchalantly) to the citizens who saw him. On Mikami's Saturdays, he would leave the gym after exercising and head to the library. He would remain within this library for 16 minutes browsing the non-fiction section. He would check out the same series made up of 32 books near the end of 16 minutes and return it the following Sunday, book in such a flawless condition it was doubtful he even opened it.

The senior calmly makes his way to the very same book section Mikami had. The series has black covers for all the books, each with white text on the front. All of them proclaim true tales of people who experienced the extraordinary, people who saw spirits and predicted deaths, people who saw what was beyond death and lived, and people who lost it all and gained it back plus more. Each book has a large amount of pages. The senior picks one at random. The library card within the book's pocket only has 3 previous checkouts. This series does not seem to be popular.

The student starts to glare at the book, imagining Mikami pick it up in a fit of routine and willingly want to read its pages. To think someone like Mikami could enjoy this series...He absolutely hates, hates, hates this series. With one hand, he shuts the book. It makes the sound similar to a whip.

He slides the book back in and takes up a book below the series to seem casual. As he opens the book and reads the pages blankly, his mind is working to piece together Mikami. Why did the man concern himself with these tales that sound more false than true? And yet, this is the man who calls himself a God - though it isn't far-fetched. He is in a game for Godhood.

Mikami seems smart despite his initial stupidity. He no longer follows his routine. Perhaps the man was under L's or the police's watchful eyes and that the videos he post online were all fake. Mikami is not like Higuchi; the latter man just completely disappeared. Mikami interacts with the world - just no longer physically. He has watched all his videos, including his newly released videos. But always does a creeping sensation finds his way up his back. No longer can he watch the videos at night, but in day, with his naive classmates.

"My name is Mikami Teru." The high school student scowled at the abysmal quality, as well as the manic look in the man's eyes. "There are some who knew me as the quiet child in the room. Others knew me as the crybaby after you relentlessly tortured me during my childhood. Depending on your reference, I have either good news or bad news: good things come to those who wait. I will become God and I will delete the useless vermin from this world and make it pure like it always should have been! No one will be able to stop me. No one."

What is this? The senior thought afterwards, breathing picking up. Why does he sound so similar to me? No, no I'm not insane like he is. I kill, yes, but I kill because someone has to. Nobody wants to be the bad guy. Nobody sane, that is. I will never be him. I am not him.

He looked behind him suddenly. It was only afterwards did he realize the reason: his body felt the presence of eyes. It made him watch his angel Fény. She matches his stare with an imperious, knowing smile.

"I know you better than you do," she said. "If you need my reassurance, I think of you as rational and lucid. But I don't know how biased my words are, nor do I completely understand humanity. For all I know, you could be insane. Regardless of what happens, I will be by your side, my human."

"I am not him!" He hit his desk. His pen holder fell, pens clattered on the surface. His anger was so unexpected, he faltered. He paused for so long, his mother asked if he was okay for she heard a loud noise.

Why did that bother me? No, it's not important. I need to kill him before his insanity affects me. He snaps the book shut and replaces it.

As he walks out the building, he recalls Mikami spending 2 hours on trains to get home. He always rides the least crowded trains. The student looks at sunset and deems his journey over. He must return home.

He remembers nothing of the ride home because of how insignificant it feels. He is somewhat cold to his mother as he walks to his room and locks the door. Reliably, Fény lounges in the air, watching some kind of drama on the television. She gazes as him with bored eyes before returning her attention to the screen. The boy takes the time to straighten his appearance. He closes the windows and curtains and turns up the volume so that soft voices blends into the noise.

"Fény," he says quietly, sitting in his bed, eyes downcast. "Am I doing the right thing, killing those people?"

His angel peers at him with her cherry eyes that suddenly dancing with energy. "What is this so sudden?"

"Am I...just like those men on the television?" continues he. "Am I causing more harm than good? Should I just give up?"

Her lips thin into a line. "Obviously I would think not. I prefer this sense of business and purposeness over your hopelessness and almost suicide. Be it good or bad change, I believe the worst sin in life is to do nothing."

"Why...do you think that? You're an angel. You deliver the message of God. Why don't you share his philosophy?"

Fény floats upside down, tilting her head to keep her bang over her eye, unaffected by gravity. "You expect something from me. You must understand whatever you think you know about me and my people is wrong. Or, not entirely accurate. I don't think I can fit your notions of me. I can be myself, though, and from what I think, I want my human happy."

How could he not expect something out of her? Are all the tales about angels lies? It can't all be. What was false or true? Without guidance, the boy buries his face in his hands. "Think of it as this: murder is wrong. Whether it's accidental or intentional, humans don't take kindly to murders. It's one of the three worst things a human can do: murder, rape, and cannibalism. Any one of these crimes wil forever label you as an evil bastard.

"Some humans think murder is murder, regardless of the context or if the murdered person is good or not. But murder is the fastest, most efficient way of getting rid of a problem. Words just don't work, especially when you can't speak their language. Not everyone is willing to listen. Not everyone wants to change."

"I don't understand the problem," the angel says, already bored by the topic. "Murder is an effective way of dealing with undesirable humans, you admit. But it seems that you will become evil because you use evil? Well, I don't really care what that makes you in the end. Good and evil to humans are meaningless things to me. All I see are things humans like and things humans hate. Why bother yourself following selfish ideals made by ancestors? Those restrictions are probably the reason why humans act 'evil' today. They are doing what they like while the world hates it."

The senior blinks at the angel's words. "It's okay to do an evil deed to accomplish good things to you?"

"I don't believe in the concept of evil like you humans do."

"But do you have any morals?"

"Morals?"

"Things you just won't do no matter what. Or things that you will."

"Ah," she beams, "of course I do. Angels and humans have morals, silly. There has never been a word for it before, though."

"So...what are your morals, Fény? What crosses the line for you?"

"That is...too complex a question. I cannot give a simple answer. You cannot do the same either, or else we would not be having this conversation," she answes, dispassionate. "Are you better now?"

"Yeah, I'm better." It feels foreign to talk about his feelings. Uncertainty nags at him, but so does a bit of confidence. He'll continue to pursue his justice. And he won't be a bad person for it, no way. Evil are things humans hate. Humans hate murder and that's the only evil he shall accomplish. Eventually humans will understand the good in his heart and will follows his lead.

He is not like those two men pursuing a selfish, incorrect type of justice. He'll show the world judgement.

. . .Platinum Light. . .

INTERPOL. How familiar he has grown with it. Today's meeting is regarding the international criminal who slaughters criminal after criminal, leaving absolutely no trace. Delegates from dozens of countries discuss on their next decision.

He had more than enough evidence to confirm the killer resides in Japan. No, not evidence, more instinct. But he trusts his instinct. He's never failed a case and he won't start. He's solved impossible cases. This seems the least interesting of his track record, but he'll take it on anyways.

He shows up uninvited. His assistant, his partner in crime, commands the attention of the room, and allows him to speak. They all go silent, acknowledging his accomplishments and achievements.

He turns on the microphone. Greets the delegates. Tries to assuage their concerns before dropping the ball: "Our criminal is in Japan. The game of Godhood rumor runs wild there. If you consider an ounce of it as true and not made up, it could lead us to our killer. It may be possible our killer is more than one person, but the mastermind is most definitely in Japan."

The next question is where. How could he lure out the mastermind? Or perhaps there had to be another way? What if he didn't need to catch him in a mistake? However, the delegates need evidence and proof. They are not going to simply trust his words. As he hides behind a computer screen, there can be no one who can trust him completely.

He is not perturbed by this. He fully expected things to not go as smoothly. This case is a supernatural one. Cases like these are notoriously difficult to prove. They may be easy solves, but stubborn people will be stubborn people.

He has a plan. He has a plan, because he is the great L, and justice will prevail.

Chapter End