Fatality: A Series of Vignettes and Drabbles

Juxta

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note nor do I claim ownership of these lyrics.

Epiphany

One

He said her skin smelled just like petals,

Said stupid things he knew she'd like.

She said her life was like a motorway:

Dull, grey, and long 'til he came along.

Before Light, Misa had darkness.

A trite metaphor, she knew, but apt. From her parent's untimely demise and to her attainment of the Death Note, Misa surrounded, attracted, and even sought death.

Her life, she figured, had been—if she could sum it all up—nothing more than bland. Tedious, even.

Misa Amane knew that Misa-Misa was doing well. She smiled, she laughed, she lived. Misa-Misa was, indeed, happy and living the life that Misa had wanted. She also understood that looking at herself as two different people was an anomaly (a word she overheard Light use and quickly researched the meaning) but truly, she saw them as different.

Misa-Misa emerged when Misa Amane needed to hide, needed an ego boost, needed something else than what her current life as normal Misa was giving her. A vacant home, a blank past, an empty relationship full of unrequited love.

Thinking about that love now, she wasn't so sure that it was, precisely, love. A strong, unwavering devotion towards Kira indisputably, but what exactly was it that she felt for Light?

Misa had never actually sat down and thought about the consequences of loving the actual person behind Kira. She just had because, well, he was Kira and that was the same thing right? Light is Kira, after all, she ventured. So, if I'm in love with Kira—

But, why? She asked herself finally, halting her previous thought.

Do I love what he, Kira, is doing? Ridding the world of criminals?

She pondered this for a bit. A lot longer than any other thing she had thought over. She knew that was how her infatuation began. Kira was a hero worth a league of fans, minions, pawns, whichever suited his needs at the moment. Misa just wanted to be number one at the top of that list; she had to be. Had to make him see that she was here, that she could be of use, and that she, unlike the masses, knew his secret method of murdering and had to make him distinguish that they shared something for she could do it to.

But that was just the beginning and now Misa actually knew Light—knew Kira—as a person, so the question manifested itself within her mind:

Or… have I come to love him as person?

Misa attempted to read her heart, then. Tried to remember how it reacted each time Light entered the room, or left it. So Misa Amane let Misa-Misa come out as well as she reminisced with her emotions.

Her heart had stuttered, nearly freezing with excitement for a moment the first time she glimpsed Light Yagami in the streets of Aoyama. Light's voice, low and smooth, made butterflies appear in the pit of her belly and his oddly precise yet drawled out words sent the critters into an energized frenzy. The light caramel of his eyes were, in truth, hard and unreadable but the burning anger stung across her skin, making goose flesh ripple.

She noticed the way his jeans always fit the same (she imagined shopping for him must be difficult) and she couldn't stare at the lower half of his body for too long because the fit left her breathless. Misa also loved his sweaters and button-up shirts, as they were so different from what she wore. He never, she realized, wore anything that didn't show off his lean figure.

Her favorite part of his body had to be his hands. Naturally tan, with long, slim fingers, and nicely shaped and well cared for nails. But she didn't figure their appearance to have anything to do with her infatuation.

Maybe they were her favorite because that's all of his bare skin (excluding his lips) that had ever touched her body and the impact was lasting. Or maybe, she ventured, it was because they were so graceful and quick as they skimmed along a key board. She wasn't exactly sure why but anytime she glimpsed them her body hummed.

So, now Misa wasn't sure if her attraction to Light was purely physical. But maybe that was part of love? Sex was always a major part of the relationships she read about in her steamy romance novels. It was difficult for her to tell the difference for the only love she had ever felt had been for her parents.

What she felt for Light was different.

She wanted to be with him always, craved a peek the taut skin beneath his delicate sweaters, and needed to be of use to him somehow.

Certainly she never felt that way about her mother of father.

But maybe, Misa thought, there are different kinds of love and what I feel for Light is stronger, more powerful, and full of my devotion to him.

Misa couldn't be sure but she figured she had just had an epiphany of some sort.

End.