Heaven's Hotline | Death Note

Heaven's Hotline

What was that number, again?

Out of all of the things he could have been thinking about in that dark, cruel world of his, both meaningful and meaningless - all he could remember in that quiet moment of judgment, was one measly number. A code? Not exactly. A phone number? Why, most definitely.

Pale fingers nervously glided along his left arm until they reached the cuff of his white shirt. The undershirt he had been sporting for days - many long days since the incident that surely decided this twisted fate. Those same pale fingers trembled. Was it anger? Sadness? Desperation? Madness? Who can say - it might just be all of the above.

"This court is adjourned." The looming judge slammed his gavel down on the desk in front of him.

The lawyer fled. The jury murmured. A gothic blonde winced.

And then -

Light Yagami surrendered.

The man who once thought he was a god held his head in shame. He had officially lost in his own sick battle. He couldn't speak, move, cry, or yell. All he could bring himself to do, was peer over to a fading blur of white. Ruffled tresses of white snow fell over his head, his back hunched as he seemed to be examining a toy of some sort. Light grimaced.

How laughable it is, that a ruthless criminal, a maniacal Kira, who wielded the power of death and a sick idea of "justice," managed to lose to a kid who played with helicopters and dominoes.

The brunette's legs gave way, and it was almost as if everything fell into slow motion as he hobbled helplessly on the cold ground. He didn't bother to get up. He only laid there, taking in the way every small speck of dust seemed to glint ; he was beginning to see the world's beauty piece by piece.

It took him long enough.

The passing figure of pitch white eventually left the room, only sparing a final glance to the fallen one. His childish face and big black orbs held no pity of any kind toward Light. Said criminal tilted his head ever so slightly, just in time to see every single memory of every moment that had ever occurred in his dimmed life flash before his eyes like a monochromatic motion picture. And when it was all over, he glimpsed Near holding up a single thumb, the other fiddling with a wispy strand of his hair.

It was one of those undeniable gestures that Light didn't have to hear him say it to know what it was. His eyes, his lips, his hands, the flickering ghost of a smile on Near's face said it all -

Good game.

-

Many days lingered on like the grey clouds in the sky, but they passed anyway. Decisions were absolute, and Light Yagami got himself landed in prison. They said something like, "He is sentenced until death." Death. The word echoed and bounced off the walls of his sad, aching head.

Light still refused to utter a word, or add his two cents to the situations and events that unfolded right before him. Light Yagami, the quick, witty murderer with a charming and killer smile was now simplified to nothing more than a born-to-fail, written-to-lose antagonist in his own story. He was chased back into his own mind, where he knew he truly belonged.

Or maybe instead he belonged back at home with his family, all alive and well and proud. He belonged back in college, where the cherry blossoms fell and the pretty girls swooned over him. He belonged in his room, studying and planning, calculating, sleeping, anything - anything but this.

But all he could do for himself now was sink back into the depths of what was left of his mind. He was aware enough to acknowledge the fact that he was indeed going to spiral into insanity, (as if he didn't already) and that he was indeed depressed. Yes, Light Yagami fell into a state of depression - a hole, an endless darkness that he had already fallen into ages ago. He was just too crazed with power to realize it, perhaps.