A Death Note Carol

The rain drops

Light watched as the ghostly young man died a short but agonising death; his presence as stoic and calm as it had been when Light had first seen him. However there was one distinct change in the child's demeanour; his large, grey eyes, which reminded Light so much of L, were condemning. Those eyes showed an adult in a child-like body, they were angry and full of judgement, glaring into the back of the self proclaimed god. He seemed more aware than the other two that he was being made a martyr; that his death meant something more significant than his own pain and frustration.

Normally Light loved nothing more than seeing the last bits of life in his victim's eyes- in particular, those who thought they had the right to deny him and the world of his judgement. But Light did not feel that way this time, instead he felt resentful and, dare he admit, even a little ashamed?

Never before had all the wasted human life been thrown in his face so forcefully; L had, on occasion, tried to press the matter, to force the futility and brutality of the criminal's deaths, but to no use. Light had always been too certain that the deaths, of the innocent and guilty, were worth the final goal.

But now Light was aware that he had failed. Repeatedly failed.

He had not protected the weak; he had not helped prevent more death and suffering but had added to it. He had not looked closely enough into the mind of a killer to see the reasons behind such actions, and if there was indeed, chance for redemption.

Was it not ridiculous that he happily slaughtered criminals, but left ex-criminals alive? He had argued to himself that he had done so because they had clearly been rehabilitated and paid for their crime, yet he was not giving newer criminals an opportunity to do so. It was an obvious and shameful case of double standards. Here he was, a false messiah, killing off young people and hero-cop, all because they disagreed with his methods; so was he any different to a dictator? Had not communism been created as a way to free mankind, to evolve it into something less selfish and consumer-ridden? But look at what that idealistic dream resulted in? Had not Hitler made Germany strong once more? Had he not cleared her of her crippling economy? Of her shame from the first war? Yet look at the monsters who had been empowered to commit some of the worst atrocities ever known to man!

Light thought back to the Church in England and the image of the Angel of Light. Had Satan not wanted to bring independence to man? To gain independence from God for himself and all the angels? Yet now all mankind, according to Christianity, was doomed unless they returned to God through Christ.

'The way to hell is paved with good intentions,' because everyone who tries to create a new society becomes power-mad.

Light glowered at his future self. He was getting it all wrong! He had clearly lost his way, lost his original purpose for becoming Kira.

What had made him this way? What had broken him so badly that he became this parody of what Kira was supposed to mean? If future Light did not have his current powers thanks to the Death Note, he would seem like nothing more than a crazed cult leader.

"Come on, Light, think!" he admonished himself. He needed to work this out now! He couldn't allow this future to happen! So what was it that was really making him angry right now? Right, the dead bodies of children and the fact that he was slaughtering these people, instead of having the Death Note kill them discreetly and quietly. "Well, in all fairness to my future self, all of this makes sense; this spectacle will get more people believing that he is god." Light paused in this train of thought. Light had never wanted to be the face of god per say, he wanted to go about it more covertly (like L), hiding his true identity from the world, revealing himself only to the most loyal. Had Future Light, inadvertently, made Kira another sort of messiah-like persona and therefore less godly? Even worse, this god he was creating was regressive; the angry, lightening throwing god? The god only capable of punishment? It seemed too similar to the pagan gods of lore, which demanded human sacrifice and absolute obeisance.

Past had said he was, unintentionally, helping all mankind regress. At the time he did not believe her, thinking she was only trying to make him feel guilty, but now he was beginning to understand. Sure Light wanted a happier and cleaner world, but at the expense of any non-conformists? His utopia was supposed to be against criminals, not the liberal-minded or those who did not share his morality ideals but still obeyed the law.

The idea was that Kira would be so powerful and so clearly real, that no one would want to go against him. But this god was a different situation; he was a god of fear. Though, looking back at his brief career as Kira when had Light been anything but a god of fear? Even the people that loved and worshipped him tended to be the sort of hardcore right wingers that believed more crime should be punishable by death, or were so disillusioned with the current law system that they would accept any kind of saviour. These people were perfect religious extremist fodder. And future kira was killing off almost every intelligent being for fear they would go against him.

Light felt his heart sank; it would be so boring. Who would talk to him? It'd be like before he got the Death Note, as much as he had loved his family, he was nothing like them.

He was...all alone.

Just like the orphans he had killed, just like L was, all alone in his dark bedroom. It wasn't fair that the people most like him were all on the other side! It was like his loneliness and boredom were a curse! And this had been happening before he hurt anyone, so the fates could not argue that he bought this on himself.

Slowly, the young man fell to the floor. Takada was still ranting to the camera about the great god Kira, and the storm above them bubbled and raged, angry black clouds heaving out lightening and rain. Only one person was left to be killed, and Light already knew who that was most likely to be.

"Mail Jeevas!"

There his favourite orphan, the red head, stood, almost smirking with the knowledge of becoming a martyr for his cause. Light noticed how he, like the ghost child before him, refused to look at his fallen comrades, even though one of them had been his best friend. An unknown emotion caused another uncomfortable lurching feeling in his stomach Light remembered how jealous he had been of their bond. He always believed he was too good for other people and it wasn't a belief held solely out of arrogance; their conversations were boring, they had nothing in common. He could not bond with them because he couldn't lower himself to their level and they could not understand him; it would be like a five year old befriending a fifteen year old. The friendships were never equal or fulfilling.

The red head asked for a cigarette, which was obviously refused, before he was struck down by the lightening.

Light did not watch nor did he look at the corpses.

He just couldn't see anyone else die. Looking up at the giant digital clock ignoring the rain in his eyes and biting his lip so hard it was beginning to bleed, Light reflected on how much death he had witnessed in the last twenty minutes. He felt he had been here a lifetime.

"I'll be so much older after all of this," he mused silently. Feeling the water run down his face, it took a little while to realise that he was now sitting on the floor weeping. Nothing loud or hysterical, no gasping for breath in between sobs, no screams of sorrow, no apologies, just pure, innocent tears falling down his face and merging with the rain.

"Everything runs together and connects." He muttered, remembering the lesson Past had solemnly taught and that Present had followed up in his own irreverent and anarchistic manner. "Am I really all that different from anyone else? I'm not different enough to be a god, but I'm too different to befriend most people. If I never used the Death Note I never would have met someone like L, would I? I would have been alone for years. But even as this...this god I have tried to become, I have made myself lonely. So lonely that I keep Takada by my side, as vain as she is. I bet Misa is alive too, just because I can't stomach killing people I know, whether I love them or not. I won't even kill L; not really, the Shinigami Rem is doing it for me." He buried his wet and hurting head into his hands. "I'm a coward. I hate this because I'm a coward! And I've doomed myself!"

Looking between his crossed legs he saw a small black spider standing there, as motionless and lifeless as Future. "Will you show me more, Future?" he asked out loud to the miniscule arachnid. "Will you show me more even though my spirit is so broken right now? What else can be done to me? How can my Utopia be shown to be any more fake?" as he spoke the rain began to turn black, changing the puddles. Soon Light's gradually halting tears were the only pure water. The clouds contorted and spun round till a giant image of Future bore down on him.

Light knew what It was saying. It cared far less for him than either Past or Present. Future was the closest thing he had seen tonight of a real entity; it had no emotions and cared nothing for his logic, his mental health, his reasoning's or his emotional outbursts.

No, it wasn't over yet... not by a long shot.

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