Fic: Exile
Author: Amarielah
Title: Exile
Fandoms: Yu Yu Hakusho, Death Note.
Rating: PG
Characters: Light Yagami, Ryuk, Yusuke Urameshi, Koenma, Botan.
Pairings: Vague mentions of Keiko/Yusuke.
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Summary: Light encounters an enigmatic stranger who claims to know him, much to Ryuk's amusement. There is more to Kira than even he realizes. Well, until he finally dies.
It's been six months since L's death; Light has taken over the Kira investigation. He feels confident that his plans are going to succeed. Nobody suspects that he may be Kira, and Misa's eyes are proving to be an invaluable asset in his quest for justice.
He is enjoying a rare off-day, the type of day that not even Golden Week can afford him since he began to up the ante of the investigation. He is walking through a park in central Tokyo, filled with happy people, smiling and laughing. Children are flying kites and pushing each other on swings. Elderly couples are strolling along, stopping occasionally to feed the birds or discuss the vegetation. This is the beginning, he thinks. This is the type of world he wishes to create. Idyllic, peaceful -- the type of utopia that would have had men like Marx and Kant drooling with glee.
Ryuk is flying silently beside him, his ever-present grin even more smug than usual. Light wants to ask him why, but refrains. They are in public, and he need not draw unnecessary attention to himself. He is just thankful that the Shinigami is not talking, or eating an apple. The latter would have caused a stir, while the former would have just been annoying.
"Well, well, well-- fancy meeting you here," says somebody from behind him. Light turns around, surprised. It is a voice he does not recognize, and the face of the person that it belongs to is equally unfamiliar.
"I'm terribly sorry," says Light. "But I do not believe that you and I have met."
The man-- more of a boy, really-- smirks. His hair is slicked back; his slumped, cocky posture and ratty attire broadcast that he is some kind of delinquent. Light has to suppress a sneer.
Ryuk snickers.
"We haven't, huh?" asks the man, though it really isn't a question at all. "Wow, they really take this whole 'exile' thing seriously. I didn't realize that they would take away your memories, too."
Light forces himself to remain calm, or at least not to outwardly show his growing agitation. He is not sure what this man is talking about, but something about him is beginning to seem familiar. Vaguely, like a paragraph out of a particularly inane textbook. Light wants to find out the man's name, and his hand twitches around the handle of his suitcase. He has the Death Note, he reminds himself. He has the ability to deal with unknown variables.
The man looks straight at Ryuk. "You gonna introduce me, or what?" His eyes look the Shinigami up and down. "It's good to know that your standards haven't changed much, at least. The ogre that used to follow you around was about as ugly as this thing, even if he did look a little more friendly."
"This is interesting," says Ryuk, who is apparently not offended by the implication that he is ugly. "You can see me."
"Who are you?" asks Light, voice deadly quiet.
The man throws back his head and laughs. The sound makes the hairs on the back of Light's neck stand on end. "I'm Yusuke Urameshi," says the man, grinning very wide. "But that probably doesn't mean much to you. It will, eventually, when you remember." He leans forward in a mock bow. When he straightens once more, he says, "Goodbye, lord prince."
Light is tempted to stop him, to ask him more questions. But he is much more anxious to see the man dead. Something about him is unsettling; Light is certain that he is dangerous, or at the very least a threat to his plans. He finds a nearby bench and opens his briefcase. The Death Note is there, disguised cleverly as a harmless composition pad. He realizes that it is possible that Urameshi had given a fake name, but Light has to at least try.
He writes the name in his neat, elegant script. Urameshi Yusuke.
The kanji sit there for the span of a few heartbeats, and Light hears Ryuk snicker once more. Before his very eyes, the symbols seem to waver. They disappear, gone without a trace.
Light closes the Death Note calmly, although his heart is beating very fast, and his hands are clammy from perspiration. He deposits it back in his briefcase. Ryuk senses the question that is burning in his mind, and is gracious enough to answer it.
"Hehe," he laughs. "Only humans can be killed with the Death Note."
Light stands up, and continues his stroll through the park. He does his best to push the incident from his mind. As much as it irks him to have to leave such a dangerous variable unaccounted for, he does not have much of a choice in the matter. He can only hope that Urameshi Yusuke, like Ryuk, has no intention of interfering with the affairs of humans.
Several years later...
Koenma opens his eyes to find himself face to face (well, face to foot) with his father. The giant deity is gazing down at him with the fury of a barely-contained tempest, and Koenma feels fear stir restlessly in his heart.
"Your exile has ended, my son." Enma Daiou's words echo throughout the chamber. Koenma flinches as the ground beneath him trembles. "But it has ended long before it was intended to."
Koenma recalls quite vividly the details of his brief life as a human. Shame is ignited within him, making the fear even more acute. The two emotions coalesce into a painful nausea, that, had he still been human, would have caused him heave. He is not human, though; not anymore. His body does nothing in response to the growing discomfort. The pain does not lessen.
"Father," he whispers. "I am unworthy of your presence." He has said it before, as a formality. He means it this time, however. The words are nothing but the clear, undiluted truth.
"That we can agree upon," says his father. "Your crusade in the Human World has caused us no end of trouble. The sheer number of unscheduled deaths is staggering."
Even through the tumult of emotions, Koenma recognizes an old resentment bubbling to the surface. Those were people that I killed, he thinks. He's treating them like some kind of liability-- like extra paperwork. Doesn't he realize how much damage I've done, how many families that I've destroyed?
But Koenma says nothing, knowing that to be defiant now would be worse than futile.
"If you were an ordinary human, your punishment would be severe indeed," his father continues. "You are fortunate that you are my son, as I will give you the chance to make up for your egregious errors--"
Not errors, thinks Koenma, Murders. They were murders.
"--without sending you to the less pleasant regions of Spirit World.
"Although it was indeed shorter than I intended, I believe that this exile may have finally knocked some sense into you. There is a great deal of administrative backlog that needs to be taken care of, and, given the tensions between Spirit World and Demon World, I have not had time to take care of it. It is now your responsibility to deal with all of the stray souls that need collecting, on account of your own indulgence." The frown that has creased his father's brow deepens. "You have one month."
Koenma leaves his father's throne room feeling strangely empty. This outcome is not satisfying, somehow. He was expecting to be punished, to have to pay-- truly pay-- for the crimes that he has committed as a human.
The human who uses a Death Note will go to neither heaven nor hell. Is this what Ryuk had meant?
"Lord Koenma!" cries Botan as she jogs towards him, dodging busy ogres on the way. Her eyes are suspiciously wet, though she is not visibly crying. "It's been such a long time," she says, smiling sadly. "I daresay that I've missed you a great deal."
He wants to be happy to see her again, and a part of him truly is. The emptiness, however, does not go away. "It's good to see you again, Botan."
A few tears finally slip down her flushed cheeks. She looks as though she wants to reach out, to pull him into an embrace. Propriety, or perhaps something else entirely (disgust? anger?), stops her from doing so. "Lord Koenma...you--" she looks pointedly away, unwilling to meet his eyes, "--it was not your fault. Your memories had been erased-- you could not have known any better."
He wants to believe those words.
"I'm sorry," he says, because he cannot believe them, no matter how much either of them may wish him to. "I'm sorry, Botan, but I knew exactly what I was doing." He remembers the feelings of boredom and restlessness; he remembers how the hesitation had disappeared after only two or three murders. He remembers the exquisite control, the mysterious but intoxicating sense that he had somehow reclaimed what had always been his. He knows why, now. "A part of me always knew."
I'm nothing more than a petulant child, is what he wants to say. I only want my toys once they've been taken away from me.
Instead, he says, "I will atone for what I've done. Though how, I have no idea."
Botan nods silently. Her tears have dried, although the sadness infecting her aura has not dispersed. He had not expected it to.
She follows him as they move to his old office, and the conversation turns to matters of the present. She begins to demonstrate some of her characteristic cheer as she tells him of the situation with Demon World, and how Yusuke has managed to seize the throne. At the mention of his ex-Spirit Detective, Koenma suddenly recalls their encounter in the park.
He stops walking, eyes very, very wide.
"Lord Koenma?" asks Botan. "I know that it's quite a lot to take in, but Yusuke has been defying Spirit World ever since his Mazoku heritage was first awakened. Is it really that much a surprise?"
"That's not it," replies Koenma. "Yusuke...he met me when I was in exile."
"He did?" asks Botan, shocked.
"Yes, he did. But more than that, he recognized me."
And yet Yusuke did nothing, he thinks. He just...laughed. Had Yusuke known that he was Kira? It had certainly seemed that way. Surely Yusuke would have done something, if what Koenma knows of his personality is at all true. He could have stopped me easily. He could have killed me with a wave of his pinky finger.
"Lord Koenma?" prompts Botan, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Sorry," he says, and continues to head towards his office.
When he arrives, the entire room is filled with stacks upon stacks of paperwork. In the past, it would have made him throw a tantrum. Now, it fills him with a guilt so immense he can barely hold himself upright. Smoke surrounds him as the pressure causes him to revert to his child form. The piles look even greater due to his decreased stature, towering above him like skyscrapers. Imposing, accusing--a single sheet of paper for every individual who he killed.
He walks to his desk, carefully avoiding the stacks. His feet are heavy and difficult to lift.
He sits down, and sees Botan standing in the entrance-way, eyeing the immense piles with apprehension.
"This is just the beginning," he says softly. "I'm going to have to go through every single one of them, read the names of the people I slaughtered, and assign Reapers to go and collect their souls."
"...This many?" she asks, and Koenma nods his affirmation. "I...had no idea."
"You haven't looked before now?"
"No. I was afraid, I guess, of what I would see." She walks forward slightly, just enough to enter the office completely. "Are you going to be alright?" She has abandoned propriety, it seems.
"I don't deserve to be 'alright'," replies Koenma. "This pain...this burden-- this is the least of what I deserve."
From her silence, he can tell that she agrees.
About a third of the way through the mountain of backlogged paperwork, Koenma comes across something that makes his mouth go dry. It calls forth the memory of a glaring computer screen that had flickered in the semi-darkness of his office as he scrolled down a list of special task-force members, picking them off one by one. He remembers the triumphant smile that had played across his mouth, the sweet sense of accomplishment as had he imagined their bodies falling to the ground, dead.
It is a piece of paper, just like all the others. There is a name written on it, a name that he knew long before he wrote it down in the Death Note-- before he used it to kill. It is a name that makes him curse his own immortality, because it prevents him from taking his own life.
It is the name of the person dearest to Yusuke's heart.
Urameshi, Keiko.
Title: Exile
Fandoms: Yu Yu Hakusho, Death Note.
Rating: PG
Characters: Light Yagami, Ryuk, Yusuke Urameshi, Koenma, Botan.
Pairings: Vague mentions of Keiko/Yusuke.
Warnings: None that I can think of.
Summary: Light encounters an enigmatic stranger who claims to know him, much to Ryuk's amusement. There is more to Kira than even he realizes. Well, until he finally dies.
It's been six months since L's death; Light has taken over the Kira investigation. He feels confident that his plans are going to succeed. Nobody suspects that he may be Kira, and Misa's eyes are proving to be an invaluable asset in his quest for justice.
He is enjoying a rare off-day, the type of day that not even Golden Week can afford him since he began to up the ante of the investigation. He is walking through a park in central Tokyo, filled with happy people, smiling and laughing. Children are flying kites and pushing each other on swings. Elderly couples are strolling along, stopping occasionally to feed the birds or discuss the vegetation. This is the beginning, he thinks. This is the type of world he wishes to create. Idyllic, peaceful -- the type of utopia that would have had men like Marx and Kant drooling with glee.
Ryuk is flying silently beside him, his ever-present grin even more smug than usual. Light wants to ask him why, but refrains. They are in public, and he need not draw unnecessary attention to himself. He is just thankful that the Shinigami is not talking, or eating an apple. The latter would have caused a stir, while the former would have just been annoying.
"Well, well, well-- fancy meeting you here," says somebody from behind him. Light turns around, surprised. It is a voice he does not recognize, and the face of the person that it belongs to is equally unfamiliar.
"I'm terribly sorry," says Light. "But I do not believe that you and I have met."
The man-- more of a boy, really-- smirks. His hair is slicked back; his slumped, cocky posture and ratty attire broadcast that he is some kind of delinquent. Light has to suppress a sneer.
Ryuk snickers.
"We haven't, huh?" asks the man, though it really isn't a question at all. "Wow, they really take this whole 'exile' thing seriously. I didn't realize that they would take away your memories, too."
Light forces himself to remain calm, or at least not to outwardly show his growing agitation. He is not sure what this man is talking about, but something about him is beginning to seem familiar. Vaguely, like a paragraph out of a particularly inane textbook. Light wants to find out the man's name, and his hand twitches around the handle of his suitcase. He has the Death Note, he reminds himself. He has the ability to deal with unknown variables.
The man looks straight at Ryuk. "You gonna introduce me, or what?" His eyes look the Shinigami up and down. "It's good to know that your standards haven't changed much, at least. The ogre that used to follow you around was about as ugly as this thing, even if he did look a little more friendly."
"This is interesting," says Ryuk, who is apparently not offended by the implication that he is ugly. "You can see me."
"Who are you?" asks Light, voice deadly quiet.
The man throws back his head and laughs. The sound makes the hairs on the back of Light's neck stand on end. "I'm Yusuke Urameshi," says the man, grinning very wide. "But that probably doesn't mean much to you. It will, eventually, when you remember." He leans forward in a mock bow. When he straightens once more, he says, "Goodbye, lord prince."
Light is tempted to stop him, to ask him more questions. But he is much more anxious to see the man dead. Something about him is unsettling; Light is certain that he is dangerous, or at the very least a threat to his plans. He finds a nearby bench and opens his briefcase. The Death Note is there, disguised cleverly as a harmless composition pad. He realizes that it is possible that Urameshi had given a fake name, but Light has to at least try.
He writes the name in his neat, elegant script. Urameshi Yusuke.
The kanji sit there for the span of a few heartbeats, and Light hears Ryuk snicker once more. Before his very eyes, the symbols seem to waver. They disappear, gone without a trace.
Light closes the Death Note calmly, although his heart is beating very fast, and his hands are clammy from perspiration. He deposits it back in his briefcase. Ryuk senses the question that is burning in his mind, and is gracious enough to answer it.
"Hehe," he laughs. "Only humans can be killed with the Death Note."
Light stands up, and continues his stroll through the park. He does his best to push the incident from his mind. As much as it irks him to have to leave such a dangerous variable unaccounted for, he does not have much of a choice in the matter. He can only hope that Urameshi Yusuke, like Ryuk, has no intention of interfering with the affairs of humans.
Several years later...
Koenma opens his eyes to find himself face to face (well, face to foot) with his father. The giant deity is gazing down at him with the fury of a barely-contained tempest, and Koenma feels fear stir restlessly in his heart.
"Your exile has ended, my son." Enma Daiou's words echo throughout the chamber. Koenma flinches as the ground beneath him trembles. "But it has ended long before it was intended to."
Koenma recalls quite vividly the details of his brief life as a human. Shame is ignited within him, making the fear even more acute. The two emotions coalesce into a painful nausea, that, had he still been human, would have caused him heave. He is not human, though; not anymore. His body does nothing in response to the growing discomfort. The pain does not lessen.
"Father," he whispers. "I am unworthy of your presence." He has said it before, as a formality. He means it this time, however. The words are nothing but the clear, undiluted truth.
"That we can agree upon," says his father. "Your crusade in the Human World has caused us no end of trouble. The sheer number of unscheduled deaths is staggering."
Even through the tumult of emotions, Koenma recognizes an old resentment bubbling to the surface. Those were people that I killed, he thinks. He's treating them like some kind of liability-- like extra paperwork. Doesn't he realize how much damage I've done, how many families that I've destroyed?
But Koenma says nothing, knowing that to be defiant now would be worse than futile.
"If you were an ordinary human, your punishment would be severe indeed," his father continues. "You are fortunate that you are my son, as I will give you the chance to make up for your egregious errors--"
Not errors, thinks Koenma, Murders. They were murders.
"--without sending you to the less pleasant regions of Spirit World.
"Although it was indeed shorter than I intended, I believe that this exile may have finally knocked some sense into you. There is a great deal of administrative backlog that needs to be taken care of, and, given the tensions between Spirit World and Demon World, I have not had time to take care of it. It is now your responsibility to deal with all of the stray souls that need collecting, on account of your own indulgence." The frown that has creased his father's brow deepens. "You have one month."
Koenma leaves his father's throne room feeling strangely empty. This outcome is not satisfying, somehow. He was expecting to be punished, to have to pay-- truly pay-- for the crimes that he has committed as a human.
The human who uses a Death Note will go to neither heaven nor hell. Is this what Ryuk had meant?
"Lord Koenma!" cries Botan as she jogs towards him, dodging busy ogres on the way. Her eyes are suspiciously wet, though she is not visibly crying. "It's been such a long time," she says, smiling sadly. "I daresay that I've missed you a great deal."
He wants to be happy to see her again, and a part of him truly is. The emptiness, however, does not go away. "It's good to see you again, Botan."
A few tears finally slip down her flushed cheeks. She looks as though she wants to reach out, to pull him into an embrace. Propriety, or perhaps something else entirely (disgust? anger?), stops her from doing so. "Lord Koenma...you--" she looks pointedly away, unwilling to meet his eyes, "--it was not your fault. Your memories had been erased-- you could not have known any better."
He wants to believe those words.
"I'm sorry," he says, because he cannot believe them, no matter how much either of them may wish him to. "I'm sorry, Botan, but I knew exactly what I was doing." He remembers the feelings of boredom and restlessness; he remembers how the hesitation had disappeared after only two or three murders. He remembers the exquisite control, the mysterious but intoxicating sense that he had somehow reclaimed what had always been his. He knows why, now. "A part of me always knew."
I'm nothing more than a petulant child, is what he wants to say. I only want my toys once they've been taken away from me.
Instead, he says, "I will atone for what I've done. Though how, I have no idea."
Botan nods silently. Her tears have dried, although the sadness infecting her aura has not dispersed. He had not expected it to.
She follows him as they move to his old office, and the conversation turns to matters of the present. She begins to demonstrate some of her characteristic cheer as she tells him of the situation with Demon World, and how Yusuke has managed to seize the throne. At the mention of his ex-Spirit Detective, Koenma suddenly recalls their encounter in the park.
He stops walking, eyes very, very wide.
"Lord Koenma?" asks Botan. "I know that it's quite a lot to take in, but Yusuke has been defying Spirit World ever since his Mazoku heritage was first awakened. Is it really that much a surprise?"
"That's not it," replies Koenma. "Yusuke...he met me when I was in exile."
"He did?" asks Botan, shocked.
"Yes, he did. But more than that, he recognized me."
And yet Yusuke did nothing, he thinks. He just...laughed. Had Yusuke known that he was Kira? It had certainly seemed that way. Surely Yusuke would have done something, if what Koenma knows of his personality is at all true. He could have stopped me easily. He could have killed me with a wave of his pinky finger.
"Lord Koenma?" prompts Botan, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Sorry," he says, and continues to head towards his office.
When he arrives, the entire room is filled with stacks upon stacks of paperwork. In the past, it would have made him throw a tantrum. Now, it fills him with a guilt so immense he can barely hold himself upright. Smoke surrounds him as the pressure causes him to revert to his child form. The piles look even greater due to his decreased stature, towering above him like skyscrapers. Imposing, accusing--a single sheet of paper for every individual who he killed.
He walks to his desk, carefully avoiding the stacks. His feet are heavy and difficult to lift.
He sits down, and sees Botan standing in the entrance-way, eyeing the immense piles with apprehension.
"This is just the beginning," he says softly. "I'm going to have to go through every single one of them, read the names of the people I slaughtered, and assign Reapers to go and collect their souls."
"...This many?" she asks, and Koenma nods his affirmation. "I...had no idea."
"You haven't looked before now?"
"No. I was afraid, I guess, of what I would see." She walks forward slightly, just enough to enter the office completely. "Are you going to be alright?" She has abandoned propriety, it seems.
"I don't deserve to be 'alright'," replies Koenma. "This pain...this burden-- this is the least of what I deserve."
From her silence, he can tell that she agrees.
About a third of the way through the mountain of backlogged paperwork, Koenma comes across something that makes his mouth go dry. It calls forth the memory of a glaring computer screen that had flickered in the semi-darkness of his office as he scrolled down a list of special task-force members, picking them off one by one. He remembers the triumphant smile that had played across his mouth, the sweet sense of accomplishment as had he imagined their bodies falling to the ground, dead.
It is a piece of paper, just like all the others. There is a name written on it, a name that he knew long before he wrote it down in the Death Note-- before he used it to kill. It is a name that makes him curse his own immortality, because it prevents him from taking his own life.
It is the name of the person dearest to Yusuke's heart.
Urameshi, Keiko.