Work Text:
On the 25th of January, 2010, Mello writes a letter.
To Near,
I hope you fucking read this. I'll be so pissed if you don't. I mean it. I WILL haunt you.
I wanted to say that I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate your fucking personality, the way you treat the people around you, your stupid toys and the way you speak. I hate that you expect me to lie in your shadow until I die like some complacent bitch.
I have to tell you that I'm sorry. If you have any semblance of a heart beneath that cold fucking face of yours, tell it I'm sorry it's spent its entire life rotting and freezing inside a bastard like you.
I'm sorry you'll be all alone, even though you probably like it better that way. You're a lonely creep, always have been.
I'm sorry you're going to be L and I won't be there to make it as hard as possible for you. It'll probably come easy to you. It's what we were raised for, the only purpose our shitty fucking lives ever served.
I'm sorry about that too. I might’ve been born to die, but you deserved to choose a better path.
I spent my whole life thinking that succeeding L was the greatest honour one could ever have. Even when I had to leave his title and his legacy behind, all I ever wanted was to prove myself to him. To the God I never fucking loved. I thought you were such an ingrate for not even being enthusiastic about becoming him. Now I see you were right, as you usually are. Being L isn't an honour he gave his successors. It's a generational fucking curse he poisoned us with like the rotten bastard he really is.
So I'm sorry you have to do it. I'm sorry I won't be there to break your nose at the finish line.
Consider my sacrifice my apology. Cremate me if you like, or make my corpse into a statue or give up my organs for donation. Whatever it is that creeps like you do. It doesn't matter to me.
I've told Matt that if you and your catty little club ever need help with his expertise, I give him permission to help you exactly once without me haunting him. NOT TWICE.
In return, I want you to do me one favour.
Don't restart the succession program.
Fight that bastard Roger and the entire House if you have to, OK? Get that muscle daddy Rester guy of yours to punch Roger in the face if you have it in you. Let it end with us. With you. Please.
I'll see you in Hell. Don't be scared, we grew up here, didn't we? And the first one to Pandemonium wins! I promise I won't start without you. Meet me by the lake of fire so I can fuck you up for letting this happen.
-Sincerely, Mihael “Mello” Keehl.
On the 26th of January, 2010, as brilliant young woman Kiyomi Takada burns, so does everything around her. From the church walls to notebook pages covered in names written in red-and-brown ink to a small, scarlet envelope with only the letter ‘N’ as the address. Up in flames and down to ashes before anyone except the original author ever reads it. Glory to Kira.
On the 28th of January, 2021, with his usual grimace and a twist of the hair that now falls long past his waist, Nate River chooses his successor. Glory to L, he says with more spite than conviction, who'll live until the turn of the century and far, far beyond.