DN -- God
Title: God
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Character: Teru Mikami
Rating: PG
Word Count: 424
Warnings: none
Summary: This is the end of it. Of everything.
Author's Note: I love Mikami.
GOD
It’s interesting-though none too surprising, he supposes-that Teru Mikami can catalogue his life in a thousand pinpoints. He can mark every broken pair of glasses, every scar that has faded with time and care; every instance of powerlessness, the roaring silence of defeat broken by disbelieving gratitude; every conversation with his mother, the last one most of all.
“Sometimes you have to let injustice stand. You can’t right every wrong, sweetheart. You can’t fight every battle and expect to win.”
He can put his finger on the moment he renounced her, and the moment the forsaken ones were eliminated in a single blessed swoop.
He knows the name and face of every small-time sinner he condemned with smooth words and hard evidence.
And of course he remembers regaining his faith.
The notebook, the gift from God. The impossible hope, the boundless sprawl of so many beautiful opportunities before him that he couldn’t differentiate one from the other. Everything had changed. The world was new. He had a purpose, a goal, a reason, a golden truth and a weapon against the forces of injustice, a weapon that would never misfire. Of course he offered up half of his prospective remaining years. Half a life with the power to enforce the right, to fix the world, to heal it, was immeasurably better than an eternity of the old way-of extricating justice from the tomb of bureaucracy, the mausoleum swathed in cobwebs of red tape.
He gave everything to Kira. He gave everything to God.
And now…
Now Kira-sama is just a man.
Now Kira-sama is a failure.
Now Kira-sama is the kind of person he has spent his life trying to destroy.
How did this happen? How has he sacrificed his life for nothing? For this charlatan? For a clever boy in a nice suit, an egoistic child with madness in his eyes?
Teru wants to die. It’s all over. It’s all ruined, all destroyed. The Sistine Chapel ceiling is crumbling, and fresco rains down on him where he stands.
It’s over. It’s dead. He’s given his life, his self, his world, his love, everything-he’s committed all of it to a stupid boy’s self-aggrandizing dream. He has poured the entirety of his being into a lie.
Close up, he can see that the resplendent sun of his dark universe is nothing more than a garish fluorescent light.
It burns his eyes.
He wishes they’d release his hands. He wishes he could hide his face.
He has failed. His God has failed him.
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Character: Teru Mikami
Rating: PG
Word Count: 424
Warnings: none
Summary: This is the end of it. Of everything.
Author's Note: I love Mikami.
GOD
It’s interesting-though none too surprising, he supposes-that Teru Mikami can catalogue his life in a thousand pinpoints. He can mark every broken pair of glasses, every scar that has faded with time and care; every instance of powerlessness, the roaring silence of defeat broken by disbelieving gratitude; every conversation with his mother, the last one most of all.
“Sometimes you have to let injustice stand. You can’t right every wrong, sweetheart. You can’t fight every battle and expect to win.”
He can put his finger on the moment he renounced her, and the moment the forsaken ones were eliminated in a single blessed swoop.
He knows the name and face of every small-time sinner he condemned with smooth words and hard evidence.
And of course he remembers regaining his faith.
The notebook, the gift from God. The impossible hope, the boundless sprawl of so many beautiful opportunities before him that he couldn’t differentiate one from the other. Everything had changed. The world was new. He had a purpose, a goal, a reason, a golden truth and a weapon against the forces of injustice, a weapon that would never misfire. Of course he offered up half of his prospective remaining years. Half a life with the power to enforce the right, to fix the world, to heal it, was immeasurably better than an eternity of the old way-of extricating justice from the tomb of bureaucracy, the mausoleum swathed in cobwebs of red tape.
He gave everything to Kira. He gave everything to God.
And now…
Now Kira-sama is just a man.
Now Kira-sama is a failure.
Now Kira-sama is the kind of person he has spent his life trying to destroy.
How did this happen? How has he sacrificed his life for nothing? For this charlatan? For a clever boy in a nice suit, an egoistic child with madness in his eyes?
Teru wants to die. It’s all over. It’s all ruined, all destroyed. The Sistine Chapel ceiling is crumbling, and fresco rains down on him where he stands.
It’s over. It’s dead. He’s given his life, his self, his world, his love, everything-he’s committed all of it to a stupid boy’s self-aggrandizing dream. He has poured the entirety of his being into a lie.
Close up, he can see that the resplendent sun of his dark universe is nothing more than a garish fluorescent light.
It burns his eyes.
He wishes they’d release his hands. He wishes he could hide his face.
He has failed. His God has failed him.