A/N: Not sure where this came from, but yeah. Just philosophical ramblings about... the weather. How original I am. I can't think of a good title for this.

Blazing

Disclaimer: I wish Death Note was mine. But it's not.

I've always hated the rain.

I hated the way it stuck to my hair and froze my face, the way is soaked my clothing through. For someone as organized as I am, you'd think I'd have some kind of umbrella with me in preparation for such situations. I didn't, though. I just cursed the rain and marched through it, clutching my books to my chest and hanging my head over them so they wouldn't get wet.

It was raining on the day I became a murderer.

Actually, murderer isn't the right word. I was... well, I was the rain. Cleansing the earth of its filth.

For L, I was a different kind of rain. I was the acid kind, ruining him slowly until he was a lifeless mass at my feet. If rain had feet, which obviously it doesn't.

It rained that day too. The day L died? I thought it was fitting- disgusting weather marking the death of a disgusting person. In the movies, it always rained when something sad happened. I guess I can understand why. I don't think of L's rain as a symbol of sadness. I look at it in a more symbolic way.

When I killed L, I cleansed the world of his soul. And when it rained, the world was cleansed of whatever he had left.

Perhaps I like the rain after all.

When I died, it did not rain. Actually, it was rather sunny. In movies, the sun rises when the villain is gone. I'm not the villain, though, and I don't think of myself as such. I see it as a more symbolic meaning.

I think it's strange the way society is always wrong about things regarding the weather.

The reason the sun shone when I died was to show I was not really dead. The sun burned on in my name. I was a dead man, but I was not a dead legend. Not a dead God. The sun was me, burning but alive.

I gave the world life and L was washed away into the sewers.