Vows of Revolution
By Elphabah
Eight years after Kira's reign of terror ended . . .
The chaos engulfed him.
Gunshots blared, the sick metallic scent of blood and smoke mixing. At first, no one took notice of the unmoving bodies that had begun to accumulate. Screams of pain as hearts convulsed violently and then stopped altogether were drowned out by the static of panicked noise that clouded the air. Amidst the flood of citizens moving from one broken store-window to another, one after another began to drop to the ground. Dead.
"Die," he whispered feverishly. Carried by the wind, a pamphlet brushed against his leg. 'Kira is dead,' it said in bold black newsprint. But He's not. Lord Kira, my God lives. And I am his Voice.
The one to judge the impure.
The names and faces of those unfit, unworthy, had begun to blur together. The minutes plunged into hours as he sat there overlooking the plaza from the hotel window, his movements frozen save the frantic gestures of his writing hand. He would look up only briefly to read their names. Those who cannot live by Kira's order must die.
Driving the pen to the ill-fated notebook, the man felt at once the very embodiment of justice. All his years of wishing for a better future, a safer world for his now dead son. This was his reward. His destiny. He had ascended. There will be no heaven or hell, He had said: For you, there awaits something else in the afterlife.
When Kawahara finally broke from his trance, the world around him had fallen into a lull. The others were standing around him, their hoods drawn, faces obscured but wielding satisfaction.
"You did well, Brother," voices murmured but he could not hear them. He did not care. Already, he knew he was not one of them because he had become something more. Much, much more.
How many had dropped dead by his silent hand? He was shaking from the power. Most of the crowds had dispersed, seized by a subconscious fear of Kira's wrath. And those that remained, mostly weary officers, carried confused expressions as they tried to make sense of what had just occurred. Their eyes darted in paranoia, searching for the one who had brought the riot to a halt.
The dead bodies of looters were being carted off in body bags. An eerie peace bathed the city street. And on the horizon a storm was coming, bringing rain to wash away the blood-stained sidewalks. Kawahara smiled with swelling pride, nursing visions of a Great Flood.
Let them know that their god was still watching.
It was slightly before 9:30 in the morning when she turned on the television. The sound was on mute, but she didn't notice. The aging woman could not hear much over the clatter of cooking as she prepared breakfast for two anyways. It was a Sunday, so she expected her daughter soon.
"What is a mother to do when her only child left hardly visits," she clucked to herself, sometimes she found it comforting to talk aloud. She could go for days without hearing a familiar voice. There wasn't much emotion in the words, despite the initial ache it held when Sayu moved away, spending more and more time on her own. Mom, I'm sorry but I need to work late tonight; I will visit next week okay? She had heard the same excuses so often, but maybe it was for the best. It used to pain Sayu terribly to come home to an empty house, to look for her brother and father—to be disappointed by their vacant seats at the dinner table. She was always such a fragile, emotional girl. Sachiko was afraid that the scars of their deaths might have cut too deep. . .
I don't expect her to ever get over Light and her father; they meant too much to her, but I pray every day that she can find some happiness. For me it is too late, I am old. When Soichiro died I knew I would never know joy again. But oh, for Sayu-chan to be happy again. That is all I can pray for. So if she cannot keep to her visits, I must only hope it means she is out living her life.
Sachiko sighed wearily, half-heartedly heating the rice. Years of sorrow have taken there toll on her as well. She persevered for Sayu's sake, and partially because it's what Soichiro would have expected of her. She pushed a tendril of gray hair from her face as she sliced the crimson apple into careful, delicate pieces. By the time the front door opened and her twenty-seven-year-old daughter yells, 'tadaima', she has finished setting the table.
"Goodness Sayu! Where is your jacket?" the mother frowned as the daughter came forward and kisses her on the forehead. She scolded amiably, "It is very cold out today, you know."
"Hmm, what do you mean? I walked here from the train station and it was just fine!" Sayu said with a tender smile as she took a seat at the table. Her mother waddled slowly back into the kitchen to bring the pot of green tea, settling it between them.
Sachiko shook her head. It was her rightful responsibility to nag her daughter and both were comfortable with the routine. She poured the steaming tea into Sayu's cup while the young woman chattered away. In this brief moment, Sachiko savored her daughter's smile. There was no despair hidden in her eyes; Sachiko was convinced, she was healthy. It did her good to leave Honshu for awhile, the mother remarked silently as she recalled the four month retreat Sayu had taken to Hokkaido for rest and recuperation several years ago. She came back changed, different. But Sachiko was sure it was for the better.
They went through the casual exchange of news. Sachiko's garden, the neighbor's child's piano recital, the movie that Sayu saw with some friends a couple weeks ago. The mother tried to pry into other matters, "How is work? Are you still a receptionist at the insurance company?" She received vague answers, like always. She didn't know why Sayu must be so mysterious sometimes. As a child she could never keep secrets, they simply spilled from her lips so freely.
Sachiko's worse fear was that Sayu had taken to working in a hostess club. It's dangerous, Sayu-chan! And there are less disgraceful ways to earn money! Her mother scolded, trying to probe for answers. But with a laugh Sayu denied it all. There was a twinkle in her eye but she did not say anything more. So Sachiko would continue to fret over such matters, you are going to worry me right into my grave, Sachiko sometimes thought to herself.
They sat companionable silence. The television was still on mute, when it began flashing images in the background
"OH GOD!" Sayu screamed suddenly.
There was a crash as she knocked over her cup, leaping to her feet. Sachiko's heart jumped as the young woman ran to the television. At first she was bewildered by this reaction but then she saw it. The headlines spurring across the screen, she saw it in bold ugly letters: HAS KIRA RETURNED? Even before Sayu could turn on the volume, Sachiko's mouth had gone dry with dread.
The news reporter was speaking quickly, standing in the deserted streets of the Ginza district, "it is here where the riot broke out, causing untold damage to the nearby shops and several casualties. But what has gotten many riled up, including the police, is the eighteen individuals that died of heart attacks. Two of the people who died of cardiac arrest are suspected to be of the small group that began the riot, while the others that died are still being investigated. That's all we know at this moment. . ."
Sachiko's gaze darted to Sayu's still form, she was scared of how her daughter may react—too worried in fact, to dwell on her own fears. She stood and moved towards Sayu but the girl spun to face her. Sachiko was surprised by what she doesn't see. Fear. Sayu dark eyes narrowed and she spoke harshly, "Can you believe that junk!"
"What?" Sachiko blurted, wringing her hands in the folds of her apron; this was not the first thing she expected to hear from her daughter after such news. Just a moment ago, after all, she had been rather upset.
"It's absolutely ridiculous," Sayu replied, her voice tinged with anger. "How dare those reporters try to scare citizens like that? It's obvious what this is: another group acting out against the government. Another rotten revolt caused by some nutcases."
"But the heart attacks, Sayu-chan," Sachiko pressed, alarmed by her daughter's tone.
"I bet only a couple old people had heart attacks from all the excitement and the news is just trying to play it up," she nodded, "Remember a year ago when that one radio station said they had evidence that Kira had a son? And then it turns out it was all a hoax. This is the same thing."
Sachiko was alarmed by her daughter's denial, how adamantly she refused the thought that Kira, the terrorist that destroyed their family, may just have returned. "But Sayu-chan, this is different," she said softly.
But Sayu didn't hear her. "Listen, mom. I got to get going now but will you promise me to stay inside today? Lock the front door and just stick to house, there might be a lot of weirdoes out causing trouble because of this frenzy. Promise?"
Sachiko promised to stay inside, watching her daughter slip into her shoes and leave in a whirl of motion. When she's gone, Sachiko found herself still in confusion over everything that just transpired. And what about Sayu? She wondered what thoughts were churning in that young woman's head, coming to the realization that this was a very different person from the child she had once known. How strongly she had ordered her to stay at home, the sudden way she left. . .
Sayu-chan, who are you now? The mother wondered.
This was bad. Sayu knew instinctively that whatever had happened, it was going to send the Japanese citizens into panic; if it got out of hand, the whole world might face a disaster. Kira. The name alone had come to carry the same hideous weight as Adolf Hitler. Stalin. Mussolini. Those foolish reporters might have well said Satan himself has taken up residence in Tokyo! She thought harshly to herself.
Sayu regretted leaving her mother alone. I'm sorry, mom. There is so much I wish I could tell you, but it's best you don't know. She regretted many things, but in the aftermath of hearing the news report—she had much more important matters to be concerned with and pushed her feelings aside. In truth, she found herself suffering from a very acute sense of fear. A terror squeezing at her chest, an old paranoia washing over her thoughts. Someday, mom I am going to tell you everything. I'm going to tell you what I've really been doing with my life. . .
She moved briskly down the street, pulling out her plain black cell-phone as she moved. Sayu dialed a familiar phone number.
"Have you seen the television? Has the chief released anything to the press?"
There was a reply on the other end of the line.
"Okay, I am on my way." She clicked off, her steps quickening as she hastened to the train station.
When Sayu arrived at the NPA headquarters, there are swarms of reporters and civilians blocking the entrance. Cameras flashed like tiny explosions of light, but Sayu didn't hesitate. A path was cleared as she pushed through the crowd, showing her badge as she entered the building.
By the front desk, her partner wass waiting.
"You're just in time Yagami-chan," Matsuda greeted her, bowing slightly. "Aizawa is about to have a meeting with all agents."
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Sayu asked as they walked towards the conference hall, passing sweaty-faced pages as they raced from one office to another. Inside the normally quiet headquarters of Japan's police force had suddenly turned to disorder. Things must be serious, Sayu thinks to herself, I have never seen this place in such a mess.
"Not really," he answered with wide-eyed honesty, "I am more out of the loop here then usual, actually..."
Well isn't that encouraging, Sayu thought dryly.
Together they entered the conference hall to the sight of a full room, uncertainty brimming as questions flew. It was hot, stuffy from all the bodies crammed into the limited space. Sayu, at an unremarkable height of 5'4'', had an obscured view of the podium from where she stood. Luckily when Aizawa entered the front of the hall, most people took their seats quickly and an eager silence filled the air. Everyone, on edge, waited to hear what the department chief had to say.
"We have reason," he wasted no time announcing, "to investigate the recent casualties in the Ginza riot as possible Kira victims."