Pain.
It was the only thing Light could comprehend.
More pain than he had felt in years.
Blood.
It was the only thing Light could see.
His own blood, so much redder than he remembered.
Another bullet. It ripped through his shoulder, an explosion of agony that brought Kira to his knees.
Let it end.
It was cruel, really, that Matsuda had missed his head.
Bells.
Light could hear them now, ringing clearly, even as rough hands tore at him and bound his own. He cried out, the excruciating wounds too much for him to bear in the face of defeat.
His eyes snapped to Matsuda's tear streaked face and registered the bloodlust and hatred in his eyes before the hands forced a cloth over his face, blinding him.
He didn't know how he was still alive.
Shock.
It lessened the pain. In fact, as Light was crammed into the back of the ambulance, he could hardly feel anything anymore. The numbness was slow at first, like a drop of ink unfurling in water. Then it settled and spread, and the lifting of such pain was near ecstasy to Light.
Voices.
Everywhere, they shouted at him, jeering with accusation. This was opposite of what Light had wanted, what Kira had worked for since the beginning. This anarchy, this chaos.
Voices.
Bells.
Voices.
Light fought. He struggled against the sounds, desperate for release, praying for death.
They were loud. Deafening.
Until finally, exhaustion swayed his consciousness.
The last thing he could remember was Ryuk's hollow laughter echoing in his head and L's face flash through his inner eye before succumbing to the calling silence.