Death Note: Days of Justice Teaser

[nevermoreraven]

I'm taking a bit of a break and...well, kind of uploading teasers.  Plotbunnies hopped in with these and have since hopped out.  If anyone's seen them, please tell me.  I'd love to have them back.  (Honestly, I'd go chasing them and these stories myself, but there's so much to write.  I can't keep up with all these plotbunnies.  I wish I could institute some sort of immigration policy until my muses and I have sorted out what we already have to work with...)

Fandom: Death Note
Rating: Teen
SPOILER WARNING: L's True Name.  Pretty much the entire series, as the ending is spoiled (vaguely, but you still might want to avoid it if you dislike spoilers).
DISCLAIMER: Again, if I owned, I'd love for this to happen.  Because it's cool and has so much potential.
Summary: Thousands of years have passed since the death of L and fall of Light.  Both bodies have been found and were carefully preserved through new technologies, lying on slabs of stone in their respective temples.  Neither Wammy’s Children nor the Wisdom of Kira Monks were accepted in the state of the future, but neither disbanded, certain in the right of their side.  If only they had faith, they believed, their god of justice would return and prove the case, once and for all, to the non-believers.
Neither expect both to return.  And neither even considered the possibility that the two would have to put aside their differences and work together along with a hand-picked group of their faithful followers to save the world…

Note: The name for the woman was chosen by the highly scientific process of random name generator.  Feedback on name would be appreciated.  It seemed to fit, but I didn't really look that hard (right before uploading, as a matter of fact).

Heavy, black-rimmed obsidian eyes blinked open in the darkness.  It was cold, but not the cold damp of a cave.  More that of an enormous cathedral, the mind still sharp after all these centuries mused.  At least there were no bells.

Thoughts on where he was began to swirl through the still death-numbed brain.  His chest wasn’t sore, but then, if his spirit had, indeed, managed to make its way from his body to somewhere…else, that wasn’t altogether surprising.  He began to wonder how many wayward souls were disappointed when they finally made it to this place, and a slight amused smile worked its way onto his lips.  It certainly fit none of the varying descriptions he could recall.

He heard a slap, like that of metal against skin, and instantly tensed, the smile wiped off his face in a second.  Especially with something like that.  People still abused each other in the hereafter?  Tragic, but so very human.  He listened carefully.  To his surprise, human souls seemed to speak a strange version of English.

“I’ve had enough of your blasphemy, young Emira!”

The voice that replied was feminine, though lower than most, and still bore traces of youth.  He’d place her soul anywhere from eighteen to twenty-two years, although if this was indeed the spiritual world, then perhaps such judgments would be skewed.  The tone was not the whine of one who was deliberately doing something bad to see if they could get away with it, but that of one in genuine pain.

“…A virtue handed down the centuries is the capacity for independent thought.  You can’t just…”  She bit back a scream in response to the latest hit, and before he was aware of it, the previously dead man was on his feet and at the door.  Then another thought hit him.

I have no idea where I am.  If I just step out there without further information, I may be placing myself and perhaps the victim in further danger.

Though he still longed to act, this stilled his restless bare feet.  He listened more closely, placing a hand to one ear.

“I believe it is time for you to re-read your Holy Book, young lady.”  A careful glance outside showed an old man in a robe carefully pick up a squirming, protesting woman-about the right age group according to his estimate-by her collar and carry her out of the room.

He blinked and placed a thumb on his bottom lip, gently stroking it as he thought.  Hmm, how do I respond to this situation?  Do I just go out, explain I’m new here, and hope to obtain answers?  …That is not thorough enough for my taste.  Besides, there is a 23% likelihood that I will be treated in the same manner because of my ignorance.

If I find the young lady, there is an acceptable percentage possibility that she will be more helpful.  However, I must plan how to find her without running into that unpleasant person.  I will have a distinct disadvantage as I am unfamiliar with this building.  I am far more likely to encounter him if I exit this door.  So another exit would be satisfactory.

A slight smile crossed his face again.  He had underestimated how good it felt to be alive and using deductive reasoning.

He quickly scanned the room and found another small, wooden door in a corner, only a slight outline of light alerting him to its presence.  Carefully he crossed to it and gently pushed it open, touching it as little as possible.

It seemed luck was on his side.  Down the hallway somewhere he could hear the same female voice reciting something, and wandered in the direction of the sound cautiously.

The voice promised that he was getting closer, growing steadily louder as he approached until he could actually hear what was being said.  It appeared she was reading out loud.  Perhaps he wasn’t in luck after all-would the other spirit wish to overhear and make sure she wasn’t up to any mischief?

“As of yet, none had stepped forward to be the god or goddess of justice, though the position, it was whispered, was heavily prized.  It was said that none wished to acknowledge the fact that they coveted the seat, for would that not automatically disqualify one?  None wished to test the notion, so all were silent.”

“Finally two of the number were chosen on a whim and sent to the Earth.  There, they were told, they were to bring justice to the people, in any manner they saw fit.  Their actions would determine whether or not they were deemed worthy.  Furthermore, they were allowed to actively fight each other, but if they both lost sight of the true goal in their rivalry, neither would get the title they so desperately wanted.”

“Neither wanted to act for a while, both wanting to learn from the humans and perhaps gather an idea of what ‘justice’ meant.  Eventually, the kami Light Yagami made the first move.”

The as yet unnoticed man in the hallway started, eyes immediately widening.

“He had deemed that justice meant punishment.  He would bring a wrathful justice, scourging the land of wrongdoers.  He had decided that true justice meant killing all those he deemed unworthy.”

“The second, L, took a different approach.  He believed that justice was protecting the innocent.  He would guard the ones he deemed worthy and trust that the law would be able to stop the guilty from acting—with his help of course.”

Those wide, dark eyes blinked once.  Interesting.  Well, if nothing else, they had managed to capture the essence of their ideologies in a few sentences.

“Their battle raged over the Earth.  There were none who did not know of their desperate struggle, but few were aware that the very nature of their existence was at stake, the justice and judgment that would later be levied on them the prize of the fight.  Many took sides.”

“In the end, through trickery Yagami, now known as Kira, defeated L.  Or so he thought.”

I’m beginning to like this story, the unseen listener thought with a smile.  Sounds like not everything went Kira’s way.  I’m glad.  I want to know how it ends, though.

“What Kira did not count on was the friends and followers of L.  Though L was as lonely Kami, whose existence was mostly solitary and who never considered anyone a friend in life, he had those who were willing to take up the fight and avenge Kira’s dishonorable act.  While Kira was by far the more socially gifted of the two, he never bothered to actually connect with any of the humans he was later to judge whether they should live or die, believing them somehow unworthy.  Interacting with them might even cloud his judgment.  When he died, the two who cared deeply about him died soon after, and though many remembered him in honor or shame, none lived to remember or honor him as a person, only an image.”

“Though personally L had lost, unaware of the utter treachery of Kira’s mind, his philosophy lived to triumph over his worst foe.  The kami gathered together, moved by the terrible battle that had raged.  At last, the Dragon King unveiled his plan.”

The man in the hallway smiled in satisfaction.  You lose, Raito.

“None would take the position.  Above all, L’s policy of protection, trust in the law, and faith in humanity would be honored.  He had earned that right.”

“In emergencies, however, and for the most hardened, most evil, Kira’s justice of retribution would be brought into play.  That righteous rage was carefully monitored, for it had been shown to not be applicable on a general scale.”

The sound of a book closing echoed from the room, alerting the intruder to the fact that he was standing outside the correct room.  Then a large sigh echoed out into the corridor.

“Can’t we just honor him as a great detective and a really intelligent man?”

No answer was forthcoming, so Lawliet took it in his head to provide the answer.  After all, if she hadn’t been immediately reprimanded, that served as a signal that the room was probably safe.

He entered the room and gained a brief glimpse of a woman, perhaps twenty three or twenty four, gazing in annoyance at the ceiling, arms draped over a huge, dusty volume in front of her.  Her green eyes flicked to him, and then a crash came, as she suddenly disappeared from sight.  It took him a moment to process that fact.

She had fallen out of her chair.

“Are you all right?” he asked hesitantly, voice softer than usual after what was apparently centuries of disuse.

“You’re alive,” was her answer.  It seemed she was still in a sort of shock.  Reading what appeared to be a religious book about him and then having him appear, he speculated, could probably do that quite easily.

In order to help bring her out of such a condition, he poked a wet thumb at the book—a gesture, he realized, that was probably lost on someone who had not yet begun picking themselves up and whose view was probably blocked by the table.  “Very little of that is true.”

He heard a chuckling from the floor.  “I figured as much.”  Slowly, she picked herself up and dusted herself off, bright emerald eyes sparkling with amusement.  They contrasted sharply with her strawberry blonde hair.  She would have fit in well at Wammy’s, he mused.

Sandaled feet slapped their way down the corridor.  The angry toga man was bellowing again.  “Just because you are angry, you have no right to steal the body of Our Lord L…”

The door to the room slammed open, and then the figure stopped.  Slowly, L turned to cast an obsidian gaze upon what was evidently one of his priests.

The man’s mouth was hanging open, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.  Without another word, he fell to his knees.