Battle Angel Productions (alita_b_angel) wrote in death_note,
Battle Angel Productions

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FIC Hikaru No Go/ Death Note Crossover

FIC Title: After.
Fandom: Hikaru no Go/Death Note crossover. Post series to both and SPOILER for DN59, though not really if you take this as an AU.
A/N: I needed this bunny OUT of me before I lose anymore limbs. Just a little drabble for now (at least for me). If I owned DN or HNG, I would fuse them and do a mega manga and thus cause fangirl/boy death everyhere and make the world a safer place.


The pa-chi of go stones on the goban was soothing, as familiar as the sound of his own breathing. Hikaru was smiling, setting down the familiar patterns of his universe. His opponent was only present in his heart, a lingering memory and a fond friend.


"13-14 would be a better move."

Hikaru blinked, his hand stilling, spreading flat across the goban. He slowly turned around, expecting... expecting. As always, there was no one there. The young man released a a breath, shaking his head slightly. Hallucinations weren't an uncommon experience, but not frequent by any means. His heart ached just a little as his hands automatically gripped his fan. Sai. In commoration he placed another stone on the goban.

"You... here... want..."

Hikaru shivered, eyes wide as the voice restarted. He distinctly heard the hoarse whisper against his ear, fuzzy like it was being interrupted by static.

"Who are you?" Sai? Hikaru's voice broke, a little in fear, a little in hope.

The whisper of hair against his cheek made him jump years of watching horror movies springing into his mind.

"A... friend."

His breathing accelerated, and suddenly he could see something out of the corner of his eye, elusive but fundamentally human. He saw wide, dark ringed eyes, staring at him with glazed, piercing pupils. Hikaru couldn't get enough air. He painfully released the fan and gripped the goban instead, ready to hit anything that jumped out at him like a good japanese horror veteran.

The whisper of hair continued to caress his cheek, frightening and foreign.

"Who are you really?" It was suddenly too quiet. The sounds of the streetscape disappeared completely like a giant shroud had trapped him, and Hikaru couldn't breathe, he couldn't...

"Relax. Don't be afraid." The shadow of a man in the corner of his eye, a flicker, the hint of dark hair and unblinking eyes, white clothing and too pale skin. The voice was clearer, gaining strength.

Hikaru closed his eyes. Ignore it. Ghosts gain more power if you pay attention to them. Ignore it. Even Sai went when he wasn't needed anymore, when Hikaru started to move on, when...

"You're the first person who could feel me near by."

Hikaru wouldn't speak to it. He squeezed his eyes together and tried not to feel the increasing pressure of tactile fingers sliding across his face. His hands shook, gripping the goban.

"Hikaru. Hikari. Light. Help me Light-kun." The presence shifted in front of him, and Hikaru felt the coldness draw closer, whisper soft but sharp like steel.

"Get out. I don't know who you are, where you came from, just get out." A crashing coldness made Hikaru's eyes snap open, only to confront large, unblinking eyes right in front of his space. He screamed, loud and panicked and backed away desperately as far as he could away from it.

The room started spinning, bare walls blurring into one another. Hikaru whipped his head wildly about, feeling more and more disorientated. Then his eyes locked on the things, gaining more and more shape as time and space warped around them. The distinct figure of a man, the poster boy for ghosts everywhere sitting with his limbs twisted on the floor, unscrutable black eyes staring back at him with too much white around it in a too pale face. "I need to find someone."

Then he fuzzed around the edges once more, and all Hikaru saw was black.


"Shindou-kun's new apartment is so COOL!" Nase gaped openly at the huge building the group stood in front of, shielding her eyes against the sun.

Waya nodded reluctantly in agreement, thinking of his own shabby apartment, and made a mental note to egg his friend into recommending him as a tenant. He finger combed his wild spikes of brown hair staring down the high tech double doors of the complex. "Yeah, lucky bastard's got enough money to afford this place."

"I hear it used to be some kind of business building for security or something before they had to convert it to apartments due to the housing shortage." Isumi said conversationally as the three walked through the doors which opened automatically for them. They halted again in the lush foyer, encountering another set of doors.

Nase hesitantly pressed the gold plated buttons on the wall. After a long wait, there was no answer.

"Maybe it's broken." Waya pressed the button himself, not admitting he wanted a go at it too.

Still no answer.

"Perhaps Shindou isn't home," Isumi offered.

"That's stupid, he asked us to come today to house warm his new place, the insensitive jerk, so he better BE there." Waya pressed the button again, harder. "Answer!"

"We won't have much chance getting through all that security if Shindou-kun isn't home. I bet that elevator needs a card or something too." Nase looked at the thick glass of the doors closely, squinting through.

"Che." Waya kicked the doors.

Almost immediately alarms started to ring, making the three jump and look at each other guiltily. Waya was the first to start running. "Waya!" Followed shortly by the others.

The doors shut behind them with a hiss of finality.


The flourescent lights of the storage room were dim in a desperate bid to preserve books, despite their constant viewing by members. Touya Akira felt almost sacrilegious picking through the stacks of papers and books, unwilling to touch them unless he absolutely had to, looking at them closely and carefully before moving on. Some of the kifu there was so old the pages were cracking, though the only preservation they were given was to put them behind glass. Even then, it was obvious they were well used, their covers cracked or smoothed by many fingers, the corner dog earred and some even noticably stained by food.

Akira couldn't help but feel contempt for the unknown users of the books, and made sure he did not perform the same blasphemous actions. His eyes locked on the one he needed, high up on the stacks, teetering precariously. His lips thinned in determination as he tip toed and reached for it, avoiding the other books as much as possible.

Predictably the entire thing fell on him.

Akira looked down in horror at the mess of books, pages everywhere, feeling guilt slam down in screaming buckets.

Hastily he bent down and tried to reorder them, carefully picking them up and patting them back into shape. His hands brushed plastic. Blue eyes focussed on the wrapped book curiously, picking it up. Sealing books was the correct thing to do of course, but in this particular storage area, it was unusual. Plus, in addition to the sealed bag, the book was itself, wrapped in old newspaper, dating back a few years.

Akira stared at it for a moment, strangely drawn. It didn't LOOK like it belonged in a library full of kifu, probably some kind of trashy magazine or something. There shouldn't be any harm in opening it and putting it back where it belonged. His hands opened the seal carefully, and slipped the wrapped book out. There was a strange scent trapped in that book. Slightly sour or tangy, slightly unpleasant though only subtle... Akira couldn't quite place it. He unwrapped the newspaper revealing the soft roughened black book underneath.

"Death... note."

He flipped through it. The first few pages held names. "Strange."


Akira whirled around, staring at the person who managed to sneak up behind him. His eyes widened, and he cut back a scream. Black feathers encompassed the room, making it small, almost claustrophobic. Its face was stretched out in a horrific smile, eyes narrow with satisfaction. An apple was thrown carelessly up and down in the air from one graceful human hand. The other was black and clawed, armour clad up to the forearm where it disappeared under a torn and moulding black shirt that somehow blurred into white, though crusted with old blood on the other side of its body. The shirt also happened to be open, making Akira see the horrible mess in the left centre of the thing's chest, a gaping wound that did not bleed, through which he could see the unmistakable white of bones, and the shrivelled pulsing thing that could have once been a heart surrounded by a gaping maw of rotten flesh. It made Akira step backward, horror clawing into his mind, only held abay by years of emotional control.

"Touya. Akira." The thing said his name as if he was tasting it, features smoothing back until it was almost the handsome face of a human young male, if not for the lack of an iris in the void like eyes and the dark maw of a mouth whose depths didn't seem to end.

Legs clothed in the tattered remains of trousers now held up with various straps and a thick, rusty spiked belt floated toward him.

Akira shut his mouth because otherwise he would scream and not stop.

The thing swung its eeriely perfect hair, rusty brown and glistening with the remains of black grease, or possibly dead blood. The marble like eyes, Akira refused to relate them to go stones, passed over him.

It smiled again. "I guess this means I'm your Shinigami." It locked eyes with him. "You can call me Kira."



I'm sure your imagination can fill in the rest?
Sorry it's unbetaed so spelling/grammar is probably running amok.

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