the world is not enough ➔ DEATH NOTE X READER

3. david and goliath

Together.

The two of them...together. The thought alone was almost enough to make her laugh. Not even in Light's pipe dream of a new world would (Y/n) ever truly want to accomplish anything with him. Truthfully, she only agreed because it would make it easier to keep an eye on what he was doing with her notebook.

December 5, 2003

Unfortunately Light, it seemed, had overestimated just what her agreement entailed. Compared to how they were just a few days before, Light was clingy. He walked her to and from school, and on the days where she– sadly –hadn't had prior responsibilities he would insist she join him in studying for entrance exams. It hadn't taken her long to regret her choice of attending To-Oh.

She managed to weasel her way out of it this time. But not without consequence. Her teeth grit as she heard the twinkling sound of her phone going off for what must have been the tenth time since she came home. She feared how many messages she had missed while she was in the bath.

Flipping open her phone only cemented her fears, a blinking message at the top notifying her that she had eighteen unread messages– all from Light. Most of them were nothing of importance, boring comments such as "remember to review that formula we learned last week" or "question twenty-four was tricky. Let me know if you need help". All things he could reasonably disguise as normal, caring messages from a dear friend and classmate. The last one was where things took a strange turn. A short simple message:

"Channel 4."

With her phone in hand, (Y/n) bound down the stairs and raced to the television in the front room. She fiddled with the remote to navigate over to the station but it appeared that no matter what number she punched in, the current program was the same: a foreign man in a pressed suit sat at a desk against a stark white background, a plate with his name– Lind. L. Tailor –sat plain and center.

The man spoke monotonously, his voice accented and low compared to the voice of the translator blaring over him. His face is stern, eyes narrowed, as he talked about the current investigation of the recent "mass criminal murder case". There was one word he mentioned, over and over, that was the same in either translation. Kira. Killer.

It was all anyone could talk about for the past few days. From hushed whispers on the streets, conversations during free period, or online forms for the occult, Kira was on everyone's lips.

(Y/n) didn't find it surprising that Light sought recognition for his deeds. He always had to be number one. In middle school he couldn't just be the school's greatest tennis player, he had to be the nation's best. He couldn't just be a straight-A student, he had to get the top scores in the country. It's what he deserved, because that's what he was always told. An Icarus of his parents design.

But the sun hadn't come yet. He had barely just left the ground.

The man's eyes had suddenly begun to widen. His hands shot up to grasp at the left breast of his jacket, fingers sinking in and skin pulling taught over his knuckles, before he crumpled down to the desk below him. Then...silence.

Two men, both clad in dark suits and sunglasses, quickly swept in to pull aside Tailor's body. This time a new voice spoke, digitally synthesized into anonymity.

"I... I don't believe it," the disembodied voice sounded over the scene of Tailor's death. The leather chair in the middle of the screen slowly circled to the side from the previous removal of dead weight. "This was an experiment to test a hunch I had, but I never really thought... Kira, you can actually kill people without direct contact."

A thrill went through her. Goosebumps raised her skin. The idea that Light was out there, watching in anger as he was toyed with. His stupid face contorted in an emotion so primal, so unlike the little facade he parades around. What did he look like when he came apart at the seams? She wondered.