Satoshi watched the flickering lights of the game center with a sense of wonder and awe. He didn't show it on his face, but he always tried to find such enjoyment in moments like these. He wondered if these moments were truly human—the sheer awe at the complexity of it all. It felt normal, it felt sane to him. Here he could get lost in the noise instead of standing apart from it. Here he could simply be.
He thought back to the conversation he had with Yuka. Who was he, really? What did it mean to have desire? He tried to mesh those questions with what he and Yuka had talked about—how power simply amplifies the person, not makes them.
Did Clark Kent have a choice? Did Light Yagami? Did he?
He didn't know the answers to these questions and he wished he didn't have to think about them. Here he was in the greatest of all distractions and these questions still pulled him away.
He heard the telltale sound of failure and came back to reality to see Kenji's disappointed face. Makoto was already laughing at him lightly.
"It's those pellet things," he said, pointing at the screen with an open hand. "They come from every single direction and you can't get out of the way fast enough."
"I did," Makoto said evenly.
"I know you did," Kenji frowned as he scanned through the game over screen and crossed his arms. "But how?"
Makoto shrugged.
"Look, these games aren't for everyone," Satoshi said lightly in a semi-dismissive tone. "It's okay to be bad at something."
Kenji narrowed his eyes and huffed a bit, but again it was simply mock anger.
"Whatever." He turned away from the screen and both Makoto and Satoshi followed behind him. "The game was stupid anyway. I prefer my games to make sense."
The three of them made their way out of the game center and into the partial evening sun of the shopping district. Satoshi looked over at the horizon, the golden yellow of the evening sun setting into the ocean. Makoto and Kenji called to him and asked if he wanted anything to eat, but Satoshi shook his head and waved them on. He instead walked to the edge of the pedestrian bridge railing and leaned against it, his deep, dark eyes scanning the glittering nature of the water below.
He thought of the game center again, its flickering lights and torrent of noises. The ocean was the same—constant noise, birds, ships, all of it moving with seeming pattern and purpose to the lights above. But the ocean was different. The ocean didn't care. Satoshi could understand why so many cultures had developed the concept of an ocean god. It truly was infinite and uncaring.
He looked at his own hands. He cared. Perhaps that was his problem, he contemplated. To be a god, one must not care, like his mother. He clenched his fists and shook his head. He didn't like that idea. He didn't like the idea of seeing those around him as ants and nothing more.
"You've got something on your mind," Makoto said, coming up to him, startling Satoshi a bit. "I could tell, even back in the game center, and during classes—you're thinking about something."
"Oh... yes..." Satoshi nodded. "Yes, I am."
"Mind if I ask what it is?"
Satoshi smirked as he watched the ocean for another second before turning to Makoto. Makoto was lightly sipping at the straw of some canned coffee, while leaning on the railing. He was asking a question that would destroy him if Satoshi told him the truth, and here he was, asking it so casually.
"Your... parents," Satoshi evaded softly. "They approve of your future endeavors? Your desire to become a professional soccer player?"
"Sure, as much as they can," he shrugged. "My father obviously wants me to go into computers like he did, but..." Makoto shook his head and took another small sip through the straw. "I don't understand the first thing about them, so..."
"But they still support your decision though?"
"Yeah, I guess. Why? Don't yours?"
"It's not that they don't..." Satoshi sighed, buying himself some time to come up with a decent lie. "It's... it's more like I don't know what to do with my future and my parents are so insistent I follow in their footsteps."
"Ah..." Makoto turned to face Satoshi. "I get what you mean. I don't really have any huge desire to be a soccer player, but... over the next few years I might get good enough maybe and... I don't know." He took another slight sip.
"That's another thing," Satoshi said honestly. "You and I share the quality of not knowing what we’re going to be doing after highschool. But unlike me, you found something. You chose soccer. Why is that?"
He shrugged. "Something to do, I guess."
Satoshi sighed. He didn't want to live a life that was only about escaping boredom.
"What are you two talking about?" Kenji said, walking up between them.
The two of them smiled at him and made space next to the railing.
"Life," Makoto stated, hiding the shameful truth of what they had been talking about.
"You two are always so obsessed with that," Kenji said, considering each of them evenly. "You both need to loosen up a bit, have some fun, you know?"
"Beating you at that shooter was pretty fun," Makoto said with a half smile.
"That was just competition, and you two love competition, but that's not what I mean," Kenji judged. "You're both so... I don't know... stuck? Constrained? I don't know..." Slightly embarrassed, he stopped talking and ate a little of his taiyaki.
"Our parents both demand a lot from us," Makoto explained. "It makes sense that we are the way we are." Satoshi nodded evenly, agreeing with the broader point Makoto was making. "We need to maintain our grades and keep up on our schoolwork."
"Sure, I get that, but I do that and I also have fun."
"You don't keep up with anything, Kenji," Satoshi laughed a bit.
"I keep up well enough, and besides, I think it's better to have some fun once in a while instead of getting perfect marks on everything," Kenji judged.
"Yes, but what does it mean to have fun?" Satoshi asked. "You apparently don't think we had fun right now, so—"
"Competition can be fun, but it's not fun itself," Kenji tried to explain. "I don't know." He finally admitted. "All I know is that you two need to do something fun, like I said, loosen up a bit."
Makoto put a hand to his chin as he considered the idea. "Maybe," he nodded slowly. "But what happens if we do 'loosen up' like you say, and then we do something we regret?"
"Like you," Satoshi added.
"Well..." Kenji took another bite of his taiyaki nervously. "You improvise."
Both Satoshi and Makoto laughed at that idea while Kenji looked between them, slightly aghast.
"I mean, what else are you going to do? You can't plan for everything."
"Maybe..." Satoshi sighed as he looked out to the ocean again.
"I think you can plan for things pretty decently," Makoto said with a nod. "You can prepare—that might be a better word."
"Oh, sure, but when is it too much preparation?" Kenji retorted before mock wincing. "This is all too much for me. I just wanted to have a nice time with my friends, not contemplate what I need to do with my future."
Satoshi turned to Kenji, fascinated by that comment.
"I guess it's the deal with expectations," Makoto said offhandedly. "How does one meet such high standards?"
"Come on, Makoto..."
"It's a good question to ask, Kenji," Makoto continued. "You don't have such high standards for yourself, but Satoshi and I do. We've... each made our bargain and now we're trying our best to fulfill our end of it."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Kenji said a little more directly.
"What would you two do if you had superpowers?" Satoshi said quickly, breaking up the slight tension that had formed between the two personalities. "Just..." He turned to view them, seeing the slight surprise in their eyes. "...as a hypothetical."
"Interesting question, Satoshi..." Makoto said, putting a hand to his chin again.
"Yeah... I don't know," Kenji said, thinking about it for a second. "What kind of superpower?"
"Anything you want," Satoshi shrugged. "All the superpowers if you really want. Just... what would you do if you had superpowers? The ability to do things no one else could?"
Makoto's eyes lit up, but only slightly. "I think it would be interesting—"
"It kind of depends on the superpower," Kenji smiled. "Like... invisibility? I could learn all the secrets I wanted about people. Super-strength? I don't know, I could help people in car crashes and the like."
"I don't think he's asking about that, Kenji," Makoto admonished lightly.
"I was just curious," Satoshi said between them. "Say, right now, a bolt of lightning shoots out of the sky and gives you both the ability to fly, incredible strength, everything you could ever have wanted out of superpowers—what would be the first thing you would do?"
Makoto shook his head and scoffed, taking another sip of his drink while Kenji furrowed his brows in intense thought.
"I think..." Kenji said. "I think if I knew I had the ability to fly, I would fly up into the atmosphere and watch the sunset from up there," Kenji said, pointing to the setting sun beyond. "I bet it would be amazing to see the world from up there. I think it would be cool to just... fly... without an airplane, you know?"
Satoshi nodded, genuinely. He wanted to say that it was brilliant, that it was one of the most incredible things he had ever felt, the few times he allowed himself that luxury. But he couldn't, so he kept his mouth shut.
"Makoto?" Satoshi asked.
"I think it's a stupid hypothetical," Makoto judged harshly. "It's not practical."
"Who cares if it's practical, Makoto," Kenji said. "It's a fun thing to imagine. Don't tell me you never dressed up as your favorite superhero when you were younger?"
"I didn't have a favorite superhero."
"What?" Kenji said, genuinely surprised.
"It... it just wasn't important to me. I never really was into anime or manga like you are."
"Sure, but... you can try to expand your horizons a bit," Kenji smirked slightly. "Satoshi's reading manga now and if he's doing it, it can't be all that bad, right?" Before either could respond, Kenji turned to Satoshi. "Oh, that reminds me, did you get that manga I told you to get? I know Yuka-san has it."
"I... no... I didn't," Satoshi admitted.
"You really should, it's really good," Kenji turned to address both of them. "It's about this guy who figures out he's this really talented street racer, and it has all these amazing races in it and... You really should check it out."
"What's it called?" Makoto furrowed his brow in contemplation.
"Initial D."
"Yes, I've heard of that," Makoto nodded. "Is it really that good?"
"I really like it, so take that for what you will," Kenji smiled softly. "But I'd trust the manga over the anime. I grew up on the manga so... I might be biased, but..." Kenji smiled between them. "I just thought, hey, Satoshi's getting into manga, maybe I'll introduce him to my favorite."
"Being interested in cars," Makoto stated again, "it's hard to not have heard of Initial D."
"You like working on cars, Makoto?" Kenji asked, surprised.
"Of course."
"Why have I never known this about you?" Kenji said with a mild grin of suprise.
"I don't like to talk about it..." Makoto sighed. "But my father has all these vintage cars and he taught me how to work on them."
"What?" Kenji said, honestly appreciative. Satoshi was amazed to see Makoto blush with embarrassment. "That's amazing."
"It's..." Makoto tried to wave down Kenji's excitement. "It's nothing, really. I... it's just the mechanical aspect of these cars is really appealing to me."
"Hey..." Kenji turned back to the game center. "Did you know there's an Initial D racing game in there?" He crossed his arms and faced Makoto again. "Now there's a game that I can definitely beat you at."
"Like I said, I'm not much of a racer... I just like to work on the cars..."
"All the better," Kenji said ecstatically. "Now I can prove to you that I'm better than you at something."
Makoto slightly groaned but there was a look of passive acceptance on his face. There was a smile, despite the embarrassment. Satoshi noticed this and considered that feeling. What was that smile? Was that contentment?
"Come on!" Kenji encouraged. "I have to prove to you that I'm not the worst at video games."
Makoto relented and began trailing after him. The two of them obviously expected Satoshi to follow, but he didn't feel like he should. What they were talking about were human concerns, and he, clearly, was no human.
"You two go..." Satoshi said with a slight wave to them after they turned back to see where he was. He looked out to the sun and sighed. "It's getting late and I should probably get home."
"Really?" Kenji asked.
Makoto nodded in understanding.
"I'll be fine. I'll see you both at school tomorrow."
Makoto turned away and Kenji, although wearing a look of disappointment, turned away as well. After a few seconds the two of them walked side by side back into the game center, Makoto meek and directed, and Kenji energetic and quick. They threw away their respective trash and walked through the door into the chaos and noise again. It was only then that Satoshi realized how quiet the place had become.
Admitting this to himself, he went forward, hands in his pockets and mind on the steps ahead of him. He tried not to think of the hypothetical he had brought up to them, he tried not to contemplate what they might think of it. It had been a moment of weakness, just like on the soccer field, just like with Yuka. He wished he hadn't asked it now, especially seeing as neither of them had an answer in which he could find guidance.
He paused, looked over at a couple sitting on a bench, and made the realization again that they could be dead within milliseconds if he so desired. He didn't desire it, and that's what made them lucky to be alive. He thought back to the manga, and the Death note itself and wondered. They had such happy smiles and cheery appreciation of the world around them. He was nothing to them, just another passerby. But he could make himself important to them, he could make them bow at his feet. But he refused that call. He wondered about what Makoto had said that had caused Kenji to shut off his typically jovial personality. Expectation.
What was the expectation for the person who could wield this book? What was a person supposed to do once they received the power to kill anyone on earth?
He didn't know the answers to that question and so he refused to think about it for the moment. He simply put the thought away, and carried on.
He tried to think of happier thoughts, tried to replace his damnation with something more hopeful, but all he kept coming across were memories of his father, and those always led to memories of his mother. He tried to focus on the few memories of his father that he regarded with such peace—the time when he showed him the Superman movie, despite his mother's refusal; the time they practiced flying over the Arctic circle, despite his mother's warnings about research stations. There were good memories of him using his powers, but they only ever seemed to involve his father. He hated that. He wished he could love his mother again.
That thought led him to another, and then another, and then he realized something. His father was human, after all, and human fathers have families. He paused as he walked next to the oceanfront, the sun just now dipping below the horizon, and he considered his options. He did some quick mental calculations, looked over his shoulder, and decided that it was a decent enough idea.
He walked down the steps to the small artificial beach below him, the waves continuing to crash against the sand. He hid his bag underneath the stairs next to the seawall and took steps out toward the ever-approaching water. He scuffed his shoes in the sand and then looked up at the road passing by. No one was looking at him, and even if they were, they wouldn't really notice anything. They wouldn't be able to conceive of what happened to him, so they wouldn't be able to ask the questions they needed to ask. He was shrouded in enough darkness that people could assume his disappearing body had just been a trick of the light.
With a sigh, and a final estimation of the radar towers, he leaned forward, and vanished. His flight was so direct, and his speed changed so quickly that anyone watching wouldn't have been able to keep up with the change. There wasn't a sound, except for the lapping waves, and the footprints he had left behind were slowly being consumed by the approaching water. If someone looked out to sea and they knew where to look, they would see a small black dot decreasing into the sunset. If they knew exactly what to look for, they would see it make a 90-degree turn and vanish off to the right. If they knew who it was, they would know, without a doubt, that he was a god.