On a dark, rainy night, it finally ended.
The world's most famous detective went on his knees and bowed to the godlike power of Kira; L finally admitted defeat, and surrendered to the 'god' of the new world his life's work the moment he humbled himself by wiping his own murderer's feet dry.
Kira won. And he planned on savoring every minute of it.
Yagami Raito stood in front of the dimly lit room. The only source of light which illuminated the room were the night lights from the city outside, flickering through the pelting rain that continuously battered the glass windows.
His elegant black coat was dripping wet, spreading dampness through the thick carpet. Empty eyes slowly scoured the dark room, as if searching for the presence of the eccentric detective who had only recently vacated it. His brown hair hung limp, constantly dripping water that slid to his cheek and on to the floor.
It was as if he was crying.
The thought made him want to laugh.
If there was one thing Kira wouldn't do, would *never* do, it was to cry for his recently buried rival.
He could list hundreds of reasons on how the detective annoyed and irritated the hell out of him, and even if he was not Kira, he would wish the dark-haired man dead for his number of maddening eccentricities alone.
That L should stand against Kira and the fulfillment of his perfect world sealed the deal.
L was an obstacle, therefore he must be eliminated.
Raito would *never* regret killing the detective.
Not now. Not ever.
Soulless dark eyes stilled on a scrap of paper lying beneath the bed. It looked like a simple page torn out of a notebook that fell unnoticed and forgotten in the floor. He supposed it was L's, since the insomniac detective liked working even at dead hours of the night.
Upon that realization, he knew he should have walked away, locked the room, and never step in it again. He knew he should have gone back to the team, and begin his mission of cleansing the world of the unworthy dregs of society. Punishment must be dealt with to those who deserve them.
Raito should have turned and walked away.
He should have.
His legs moved, taking him nearer to that object which formerly belonged to his detested rival. His foot seemed to become heavier as he slowly approached that piece of scrap, as if his mind was protesting against his body's movements. But before his mind gathered itself, he was already looking down at the paper.
For a long moment, he simply stared at it. The battle in his mind whether to pick it up or not had not abated.
What could it be? Could it be another Kira file? An evidence, perhaps? L's private thoughts on the case? On Kira? On Raito himself? Or maybe, it was just a piece of paper... L had this bad habit of making Raito think too much on a certain thing, which in the end, turned out to be meaningless.
But when did L ever do something meaningless?
It was just a piece of paper, goddammit! He didn't have to feel so intimidated by it. He scooped the paper from the floor. Upon studying it, he found...
Just a blank piece of paper in all its pristine whiteness.
The cold wave of anger that was directed especially to the late detective alone washed over him once more. He furiously tore the paper into pieces and flung it aside, muttering angry obscenities.
That fucking, insulin-sucking bastard.
Even in his unmarked grave in a secluded cemetery, L was still the only person able to make Raito lose his composure. The eccentric detective had that much power over Raito's self control.
But as he watched the pieces fell to the floor, he saw inky black lines scrawled over the other side of the torn paper. His eyes widened and time considerably distorted itself into a slow motion in Raito's perception.
A feeling that was as sudden as it was alien to him surged inside him as he fell on his knees to gather the strips.
He began piecing the strips together, his hands shaking. He felt ridiculously anxious to find out what message the detective had left for him to find. He supposed it was for him, since only he and L entered this particular room.
If he was thinking logically at the time, he would have snorted at his current action. He was acting as if anything the late detective did meant something to him. It was stupid, really. But as his mind was currently occupied with his task and the confusing mixed feelings of anxiety and unexpected nostalgia, Raito was far from thinking logically.
Piece by little piece, what could have been L's last message was reconstructed. After about five minutes, which had seemed like eternity to the young prodigy, he was holding the last piece. But, despite the near-completion, he simply couldn't put the last piece down.
With body trembling, he stared at the paper, a bitter gall rising in his throat.
It was a simple child's doodle, featuring stick people with large round heads. Apparently, for all his genius, L couldn't draw for the life of him. But despite the poor quality of the image, the message screamed loud and clear at Raito.
The two stick people, one having dark hair while the other was brunette, was standing arm in arm, large happy grins pasted on their faces. A supposedly 'scary' monster-like entity (which was nothing more than a big blob of black crayon smudges with two strips of red for the monster's menacing eyes) was tied behind the two figures in a wooden pole burning, with an arrow labeling it as 'Kira'. The dark-haired stick figure, with familiar dark rings underneath its round eyes had a speech bubble saying 'You are my friend. Always. I'm glad I trusted you.'
A large drop of moisture fell on the paper, the round wetness spreading as the paper absorbed the dampness. Only then did Raito realize he was silently crying. And he was hating L even more because of that.
Only L could reduce him to a pathetic sniveling pile of wreck. No god should be affected by the death of his enemy. Not Kira especially.
As Kira, he rejoiced at L's death, his complete victory over the rival who continuously challenged him and thwarted him at every turn. But perhaps... he was not Kira at the moment.
He was simply Yagami Raito.
And even if he would rather give up the Death Note than admit it, he just lost someone he secretly considered his one true friend, out of a sea of empty-faced admirers.
He would never regret killing the detective.
But... Just this once...
(sighs) Ever since I watched Ep.25 several weeks ago, it drove all humor out of my system.. Seeing someone like L defeated (I won't say the appropriate 'd' word) like that, just broke my heart.. And that gave birth to my first DN angst story. I hope it's not that bad. (-.-)
I'm terribly feeling down as I was writing the fic, since I was relieving the sensation of seeing L falling like that. I wanted Raito to regret what he did, so I did.
Thank you for reading! Please drop me a line or two on what you think of this story thanks!