Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or any of the characters. There are end of series spoilers beyond this point, so read at your own risk. ;) Also, this piece is written about Sachiko and her thoughts, so it does not reflect my personal thoughts or beliefs. That being said, enjoy!
The lives of Sachiko and Sayu Yagami have been turned upside down, forever shaken, since the Kira case was solved. Sachiko learned Kira's identity accidentally. She wishes she could unsee the headline proclaiming her precious son Kira, but the twenty-four point Times New Roman font, bolded and underlined on the glowing computer screen, still haunts her. Even with her limited knowledge of the English language--improving by the day thanks to an internet course she started taking as soon as she'd moved to America--she'd been able to get the gist of the article. It was painful, and it still is. Sachiko feels that she failed as a mother. Isn't a mother supposed to know her son better than anyone else?
She failed Light, she failed Sayu, she even failed her deceased husband and this is why she takes pills to fall asleep and distracts herself with cross stitching and sweet baking during the day. She has been filling out various job applications, but hearing nothing. Soichiro left her with plenty of money to get by with, but money isn't what she wants. She wants a normal life, like the smiling ladies in the diners and the helpful young men at the gas stations. She wants to erase the past six years, but will not allow herself because she fears she will lose what she has left of her son in the process.
She wants to believe that Light and Kira were two separate people sharing a body, that he had the same disease as Sybil in the movie she'd watched the other week, but she knows better.
Sachiko's neighbour is an extroverted and well meaning woman in her fifties. Sachiko likes her well enough, though they have not discussed anything deeper than cake recipes. Sachiko used to love to talk about her children, still loves to talk about Sayu, but is hesitant to tell anyone that she has a son and it kills her. It feels like she's willing him out of her life and she isn't.
Sachiko's neighbour invites her to bring Sayu and come to church on Sunday morning. Sachiko obliges, sits listening to the preacher talk about Jesus, a figure Sachiko is only vaguely familiar with through western holiday stories. He speaks of salvation, forgiveness and condemnation in the same breath. It makes her heart hurt, makes her wonder if her son is burning in Hell, and if these places, these figures, actually exist. If God is as merciful as the preacher says he is, then why has her life, her family, turned out like this?
If Sachiko knew for sure her words would reach Heaven, she would drop to her knees, hands clasped and head bowed, close her teary eyes and pray for her son's soul until her throat bleeds.
On Sunday night, Sachiko doesn't pray. She is afraid it will only fall on deaf ears, afraid that God is still giving her the cold shoulder. God hates murder, sin. That is what Sachiko not only spawned, but defiantly clings to fond memories of.
Next Sunday, Sachiko doesn't go to church. Her neighbour takes Sayu again and Sachiko doesn't mind. On the contrary, she hopes that the preacher's encouraging words reach her daughter, but knows that if there is a God, He wants nothing to do with her. How could He when she still loves the son who violated His commandments?