Vicious Cycle Chapter 1, a death note fanfic

Mu – Date/Time Unknown

On occasion, reality hits Ryuk, loud and overwhelming, gripping tightly around his shrivelled lungs and causing the beating rate of his non-existent heart to quicken. Anxiety hits him in unfathomable ways; the same symptoms that a human would suffer but with none of the physical capabilities to cause them – he sweats, but his sweat glands are nowhere to be found. He can't breathe, yet he has never breathed through his lungs, which are blackened and mottled, marred by disuse.

The world – if it can even be called that – around him offers no chance of reprieve. Being so plain and desolate and useless, if anything it worsens the phantom symptoms. That is what causes the anxiety, after all, the depressive monotony of this place, the almost-fear that this could be all that is in store for him. Sometimes Ryuk is puzzled by these emotions, because one time he realises that if he is so unsatisfied with this world, the only world that he has ever known, perhaps there was a time when he experienced more - something that wasn't grey sand or grey rocks or grey gambling dice.

It is a nice thought to have, that maybe he will find that more again.

Ryuk doesn't like to gamble things as the other Shinigami do, because Ryuk can make his own damn luck without needing dice and cards to do so, and so with an apple in one calloused hand and a Death Note in the other he slouches along the sands of Mu until he reaches his destination. He leers into what looks like a well in the ground, watching humans mill about, the images swirling and bending as if underwater. Time works differently in Mu, and for a brief moment Ryuk feels awe as he realises he is looking maybe two hundred years into the past.

He has done this before, several times, in order to temporarily escape the humdrum of Mu, but not many humans can handle the power of the notebook for long and so he finds himself back rather quickly. This time he expects no differently, and as he drops the notebook he does not feel the same excitement he did the first time.

Somewhat later, he is still staring down, wondering who will pick up his book. Eventually, though, a boy comes along, wearing the same uniform as everybody else around the school area but carrying himself slightly differently, with more poise than Ryuk sees in most humans. His fingers enclose around the notebook, auburn hair catching the summer light as he bends, and for a moment Ryuk is aware of a nostalgia growing inside him, although he doesn't know why.

The boy, after some deliberation, begins to walk away, and so does Ryuk.

Tokyo, Japan – 3rd December 2003

Light has killed a good deal of people by the time he first meets Ryuk, has felt the icy rush of death flowing from his fingertips, from the absolute, precise nib of his pen, and yet he is unprepared when the feeling goes through the entirety of his body. It leaves him shaking, sweating, scraping the forgotten corners of his mind for words he is probably too weakened to vocalise.

A clammy hand – his clammy hand – presses against his face and he wills himself to simply breathe steadily, unsure of whether he is suffering the effects of severe panic or ecstasy. The Shinigami is leering at him, wearing a grin quite demonic and for a moment Light entertains the thought that perhaps he is being visited by Satan, but he casts the thought aside. Even if he had been religious before (he had not), the notebook sitting innocently upon his desk has long since dispelled any need to wonder about such things.

Ryuk chortles at him, and after answering a few frantic questions, introduces himself. They converse for what feels like forever, covering ground in break-neck speed after Light regains his footing – in both a metaphorical and physical sense. What they speak of sparks a morbid sense of curiosity in Light, something that he knows will only grow in time as his opponents grow closer and his challenges grow bigger. Ryuk will not help him out of any tight situations, so he is on his own, and it's a good feeling to have, knowing that when he reaches the top of his kingdom he will have done it completely by himself.

He is young and idealistic, naïve despite having slaughtered so many, but this all begins to crumble when the Shinigami makes it clear that no matter what happens from here on out, from the moment he wrote the first name in the notebook, there was no going back.

The human who uses this notebook can neither go to Heaven nor Hell.

Nothingness then, according to Ryuk. It doesn't hit him at first, the vast amount of information taken in that night cushioning the blow – but as time passes, achingly slow and yet frighteningly fast (because he wants his kingdom now but he doesn't want it all to end), the cold truth of the statement begins to seep into his every thought. It isn't a pleasant icy feeling, the cool rush that floods from his fingers as he writes in the Death Note, but a heavy, oppressive cold, sinking into his body and weighting down his every movement, anchoring him to reality.

In brief flashes of clarity – which become shorter and further apart as his adventures unfold – he knows that this is it, this is the only life he will know before it all becomes nothing, and the fear that spawns inside of him from this knowledge is what pushes him to work harder in times when the previous Light Yagami would have given up. He can't let this all be for nothing, mustn't let it disappear as he knows he one day will.

Sometimes he thinks of Ryuk, who follows a teenage boy around in efforts to escape the emptiness of his own home setting, who has gone to such great lengths to ensure that he doesn't simply fade away into the world around him, and wonders if they really are so different after all.

Tokyo, Japan – 10th October 2004

Ryuuzaki has him pressed up against the bedroom wall, and he's so hot and the detective's long, tapering fingers are tracing patterns along his body in what feels like the finest of calligraphies, and he can't keep his mind on one thing for more than a few moments, his entire body stiffening and softening to the older man's will, and maybe if this were any other moment he would detest being mere putty in the hands of this man he should hate but-

Ugh God lips so close to one of his nipples, almost there but not quite in the most teasing way – is Ryuuzaki doing this on purpose? This is one of his most hypersensitive areas, but the lightly chapped lips only ghost the perimeter, enough to raise goose-bumps on his body but not enough to satisfy him. He wants more, needs it, their carefully build facades temporarily cast aside as they ravish one another in the almost-privacy of their shared bedroom.

The blinking of a camera light through the darkness of the room and the gentle tinkling of a chain at his side remind Light that not all is as simple as it feels. It is a both a blessing and a terrible shame that they are not simply two trivial men having their way with each other. A blessing because if they were both trivial then this would not be half as fun, and a shame because even as they grasp the other's naked body (actually Light is still wearing socks), the poster boys for intimacy, there are still so many lies between them.

And then Light loses this train of thought with a moan, the back of his head knocking against the wall with a dull thud, barely noticeable amidst the passion of the moment. His fingers find their way to Ryuuzaki's hair, somehow, and he believes that his fingers could never know a sensation so lovely. They trace down from there, a tiny part of his mind telling them that it is unfair to let the detective do all of the work – despite the fact that the man is older and obviously has much more experience than would be expected – and feels pride when the man releases his own noises of approval.

They move to the bed at one point, still too inexperienced with and unsure of each other to try more adventurous places. Light is led flush against the feather-stuffed pillows, his fully hardened member pointing upwards in the direction of Ryuuzaki who almost towers above him, his huge black eyes staring into Light's own even in the darkness. Bony hands ruin the delicate pillows as the older male clutches them for support, leaning down to capture his captive's mouth in a desperate kiss.

Then, just when they are about to take things further:

"Ryuuzaki," Light's voice half-whispers, one of his hands weakly travelling up to haphazardly smooth back sweaty strands of hair from his friend's face, "L, I-"

The detective silences him with his mouth as he has done many times before, and although normally the younger man takes the hint there and says no more, tonight he is more stubborn, unknowingly driving them closer toward a terrible scenario. Stubbornness will be their downfall, in the end.

"Ryuuzaki, please listen to me-"

"Light-kun, do not." L leans down again, takes Light's swollen lips in his own but it is not enough to quell the sudden burst of inspiration in the youth. Jerking his mouth away from the other's, he looks up at L with what the detective knows to be defiant eyes even if he can't quite make them out, and blurts out the one thing that would surely ruin them.

In all fairness, Light's inability to deal with these kinds of secrets does make him less likely to be Kira.

"Ryuuzaki, oh God, listen," he begins, voice shaking with both pleasure and fear, "I can deny being Kira until I'm blue in the face and you'll never believe me, but please trust me when I say that-"

"-Light-kun," an urgent whisper, leaving spittle on the younger male's face.

"-I think I'm in love with you."

Like a car crash, or perhaps even a volcanic eruption, the tension reaches its peak right then, so climatic and loud – L can hear rushing in his ears over the distant sound of violins screeching – and then stops, slows down and the debris shifts to reveal something ugly, twisted and broken but most importantly different. Unable to continue, he removes himself from his position over Light and scrabbles on the floor for his sweatpants.

Light, confused and afraid, stays where he is lying naked atop the covers, listening idly to the sound of their chain ringing as L moves frantically. He wants to call out and tell the man not to worry about it, that they've slept naked together plenty of times now, but the words never pass his lips and perhaps that is for the best. They may as well have never shared intimacy now, because L cannot love or be loved by the man he believes to be Kira.

With a sigh, Light slips beneath the covers at L's command, still completely nude, and curls into himself, perhaps creating a shield against the man who is still breathing erratically beside him.

Tokyo, Japan – 5th November 2004

The taskforce, much like he once was, is blissfully unaware that Light is Kira. Even as the workroom is highlighted in a flashing bloody glow – a ridiculous display of just how dramatic L is beneath his stoic masks – they suspect nothing. In fact, as Light lets out a horrified gasp and dives to the floor, catching his friend, his lover, his enemy in a chaste hug, they sympathise with him, clamping their hands over their mouths in childish terror, heartstrings stretched to breaking point at the poignant scene before them.

Light holds him delicately, like a fragile china doll, gazing down into wide charcoal eyes with his own narrowed, red-hued ones. With the hand propping the detective up, he can feel every slight gasp and twitch the man gives as a reaction to the pain he must be in, and remembers when he thought making the detective moan with pleasure was the best feeling in the world.

It doesn't even come close to this. Pride, accomplishment, utter joy surges through him so powerfully and he is reminded once more of his first meeting with Ryuk, the way his heart beat wildly against his ribcage, filled with emotions so powerful that they literally shook him.

It isn't long before L begins to slump in his arms, wide eyes closing for the final time – and that's probably a good thing, because the way they stare up at Light with such passive knowing is beginning to annoy him and he doesn't want to come out of character and yell at the detective. Eventually L's breathing halts completely and his glassy-eyed stare is shielded by incredibly bruised eyelids, and Light takes a second to bask in his victory, to push out that one, tiny imbecilic part of his brain that insists he's made a mistake, and simply look down at his biggest opponent, who lies dead in his arms.

The icy rush of death roars into his fingertips with a brand new intensity, and now Light knows that they could never know a sensation so lovely.

Tokyo, Japan – 28th January 2010

Like everything, it all ends with time.

The warehouse he lies in almost feels like a different world altogether, so quiet and calm in comparison to the chaos he has become accustomed to. Here there is no propaganda, no deductions, judgements or outrageous schemes.

Just four walls, which offer him possibly the most honest outlook on things he has had since that time, so long ago, when he huddled beneath his bedclothes, shaking due to the reality that he had murdered two people. Things all went downhill from there, really, because it was a case of either succumbing to his guilt and potentially harming himself, or justifying his actions in order to survive and carry on. Light's survival instincts had always been incredibly prominent, so it wasn't really a surprise that he picked the second choice.

However, from this spot on the stairs in such a lonely warehouse, his efforts hardly seem worth it now.

He is in pain, so much pain, making it hard to even see straight – not just from the gunshot wounds but also the cardiac arrest taking its clench around his heart, and he wants to laugh, because all he wanted to believe as he carried out his plans was that he had no heart, and doesn't this prove him so wrong? Ryuk is saying something in the background, a farewell monologue of sorts but Light tunes him out because nothing that damn Shinigami does is important, anyway.

Focusing on the walls takes his thoughts away from the physical pain, but unwittingly opens him up to a different type of hurting. Light finds himself choking, unsurprisingly on his own blood, although in this moment he wonders if the searing regret coursing through his veins has anything to do with it.

And then, of course, he remembers Ryuk's promise of Nothingness and he forgets remorse as he seizes up with panic, body tensing dramatically even as his injuries beg him to relax. After such a long time (but not enough, never enough time) filled with the slaughtering of criminals and innocents alike, he had thought that perhaps he would face this final truth with only a vague sense of affliction, but that is clearly not the case. He is so very afraid.

The regret returns, clinging to him uncomfortably and he can't take it anymore, because how could he have done this? How could he have thought it was a good idea, to slaughter thousands, including those who were innocent, including those he loved?

Okay, so perhaps he is not completely ashamed of himself, after all, he started out with good intentions. It was the spiralling downwards that happened after that, the descent into madness and deceit. He cannot pinpoint exactly when the spiral began - when L challenged him for the first time? When he murdered his first innocent? Maybe it was long before then, maybe his terrible journey started when at a young age he became bored and dissatisfied with life.

The final blow to his psyche (every other attack after that was barely a tickle) was when he regained his memories in the helicopter, sat next to the man who so cruelly rejected him. The detective was calculative and cold as the chains that bound them, all memories of their previous intimacy safely tucked away in the recesses of his brilliant mind. Light had to make a decision in that moment, to own up and live honestly with the man for a few more precious moments, or continue with his mission, the building of his empire.

The crimson in his eyes told the truth in a way words simply could not.

Time is running out. As the warehouse begins to fade around the edges and the agony in his chest softens to a barely noticeable ache, a mocking spectre towers above him, wordless in his never ending observation.

Light can only look up at him, this man he loved, loves perhaps, partly because his muscles are limp and unresponsive, and partly because he is completely in awe.

Regret is not an unfamiliar emotion anymore, so Light is not as confused when he stares up into the detective's almost sympathetic eyes and feels a great pang of it shudder through him. He is feeling, in this brief moment before his death, things that he hadn't allowed himself to feel for years. As he feels his heart sputter to a stop inside his chest, he selfishly allows himself to use L's ghostly presence as comfort, concentrating on it for as long as he can before he slips off into the darkness.

Japan – 28th January 2010

Ryuk chortles to himself as he flies away from the scene of Light's death. They certainly had a good run, although it was a shame that things had to end so soon. He probably won't ever find another human as entertaining for a long while, if ever, but for now he has had enough fun, and knows that memories of these adventures will tide him through the boredom of waiting for another human to be just as ambitious as Light.

However, all feelings of confidence drain from him immediately as he turns around and notices the tiny trail of sand being left in his wake. It grows quickly, and he releases a few vain shouts of shock and fear, shaking his monstrous head and willing away the inevitable for only a few brief moments before the sand engulfs him and he is gone.

Considering the fact that he had recently acquired the remainder of Light's lifespan, something is definitely odd here.

Mu – Date/Time Unknown

Nothingness seems to be an awfully strange place, although Light isn't entirely sure he's even there yet. This place he is in is definitely something, something surreal and frightening, but something all the same. Tentatively, Light wonders if this is how he will spend eternity - suspended amidst these wispy colours and sounds - and thinks that perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.

It feels as if he is floating in a giant musical lava lamp, and the thought is so whimsical to him after this much stress that he wants to laugh, but finds that he has no means of doing so. How strange - he had thought he still had his body, thought he could feel the brush of colours and sounds ruffle the hems of his blood-soiled clothes as they floated past him. Perhaps he is suffering from the phantom limb syndrome, all over his entire non-existent body.

Slowly, the display begins to change and sharpen until he can sense it with astounding clarity, and then it is not as simple as he perceived. Clips of moments in his life play out around him as if on a video reel, childhood memories, answers to exam questions, sex with L, being shot at by Matsuda.

Panic, a dark and bitter emotion, builds up somewhere – but he can't put a label on the place, can't describe the sensation because his body is elsewhere. Ordinarily it would manifest as a curling in his stomach, a quickening of his heart rate, but none of these things happen and this only makes Light even more fearful. What if he is trapped inside his own mind, only to be shown brief flashes of the life he once had as punishment for his sins? If there is one thing that would be more hurtful to Light than the nothingness, it would be being taunted with images of a life he cannot reach out and be a part of anymore.

Misa giggles somewhere, his mother tells him to blow out his birthday candles, his father is wishing him good luck for his first day of school and L is tucking him into bed in a post-coital haze.

Just as the display threatens to drive him even further into insanity that doesn't even feel like his anymore, it stops, is completely cut off, and Light finds himself dropped – quite literally, as his ass, his real solid ass hits the ground with a thud – into a scenario he never could have imagined. In fact, if Ryuk hadn't told him so many stories during his more companionable days, he would not have recognised his whereabouts so quickly.

He is in Mu, which should be horrifying enough from Ryuk's description, but the situation gets even more mind bending when he looks down at himself to awe at the body he has missed so much. What he sees leaves him screaming.

No. Standing on long, spindly spider-like legs so unlike his own, he tries to run away, but he knows that no amount of running will do him any good. Eventually he stops his frantic running in circles, standing in one place and swaying with dizziness. Clawed hands rise to fist in tufts of brittle dark hair, threatening to rip it out completely, and he wills himself to shut his widened eyes, because he can see scales on his arms, black and misshapen like an odd mosaic pattern.

His eyes snap shut, and he screams again (his voice no longer the charismatic tenor it once was), stumbling back only to trip over his own feet and crash towards the ground, muscles tensing horribly in anticipation for the crash-

-which only serves to hinder him further, as what he is almost certain are wings block his fall, crunching and folding painfully under his weight. They weren't there a second ago, he is sure of it, which leads him to the conclusion that every time he tenses, wings sprout from his back. Light scrambles to pull himself up using a body so foreign (and yet so familiar) to him, then stares down at his outstretched hands in cliché awe.

This body, this entire situation, is completely impossible and yet somehow still happening. If he were back on Earth, Ryuk would be poking fun at his misfortune, chortling in that annoying ugly way of his and generally being an idiot. However, at this moment in time, such a thing seems unlikely, mostly because the hands he is still staring down at belong to Ryuk.

His entire body belongs to Ryuk.

Suddenly overwhelmed with confusion, Light begins to walk aimlessly, not really having a direction since everything looks the same. At some point he notices a weight at what he supposes is his hip, although perhaps Shinigami anatomy is different, and when he looks down he sees a Death Note resting in a pouch. Halting, he pulls it out and flicks through the pages, finding them all to be blissfully empty.

After walking for what feels like a very long time, he stumbles across what seems to be a well in the middle of the ground. The way it is placed so awkwardly, contrasting the miles of sand surrounding it is almost humorous, but Light doesn't laugh as he approaches and peers in without a second thought. Although he had not set this as his destination when he began walking, perhaps it is good that he came across it anyway, because he remembers this place from one of Ryuk's many stories.

Shinigami use this hole to peer into the human world. Something that Ryuk failed to explain becomes clear as Light stares, because the sight below him is most definitely not one of modern Earth. It is only because of his extensive history lessons that Light even knows he is looking at Japan, approximately two hundred years ago judging from the technology (or rather, lack of it) and culture he can see. Light had always enjoyed history at school, and despite the fact that everything is still very confusing; watching his home country in the past is soothing.

He doesn't know how long he has been looking when voices begin to sound behind him, as rough and ugly as Ryuk's (his), but despite his thirst for answers to endless questions, he is reluctant to turn around. However, they definitely have the intentions of capturing his attention, as before long they stand on either side of him, laughing quietly with each other. However, the owners of the voices definitely have the intentions of capturing his attention, as before long they stand on either side of him, laughing quietly with each other. Instant annoyance spawns inside of him, true and downright inconvenient for it.

"Hello?" one of them says, the word drawn out mockingly.

When he doesn't respond, the other thing (although Light supposes they must be Shinigami) nudges him; Light can hear its bones jostle within its fragile sack of skin. Annoyance turns to anger and he almost lashes out, drained from what feels like years of agony. However, he reasons with himself that a cool head is necessary to get the information he craves, and that these monsters will likely be easy enough to manipulate.

"Hello," he replies after time, and it's perfect – his voice is dark and eerie much like Ryuk's used to be, so the word that could have otherwise sounded meek, is powerful.

"Who are you?" says the one that nudged him, and Light's confidence erodes slightly.

"You don't know?" he enquires out of impulse, turning from his forward-facing stare to look at the Shinigami in awe. The thing is ugly, or at least he thinks it is – its face is hidden by a mask, strangely reminiscent of the grim reaper, but the body beneath it is weathered, its bones visibly gnarled despite the thin layer of discoloured skin stretched over them. "I made history," he says, "I threw my Death Note down to Earth and changed it completely."

Both Shinigami burst out into wheezy laughter then, nodding sarcastically and patting his scaly arms with affection. Idiots. He hates them already.

"I doubt that," begins the one Light had been paying less attention to. Shockingly, this one is also unpleasant looking, without a mask but still frightening.

"Yeah," the masked – and obviously more talkative- one agrees knowingly, "you're definitely new here, buddy – but don't worry, we can show you around."

Light decides not to mention that being shown around had been his plan all along, and instead focuses on behaving gratefully so as not to offend these new acquaintances of his. Of course, the fact that they cannot recognise him, or rather Ryuk, is alarming and raises many questions, but he cannot question things yet. Two idiot Shinigami don't account for the knowledge of the entire population – perhaps these ones simply aren't up to date with current events, such a thing would hardly be surprising. Surely somebody must know Ryuk well enough to recognise him.

"Do you two have names?" he asks.

For a while, the pair simply stares at him. Their gazes are actually quite unnerving with this kind of intensity, and Light finds himself wanting to back away even after having faced months of torment from L's own stare. Thoughts of the late detective threaten to upset him, so he cuts them off by distracting himself. Pushing back his shoulders and puffing out his chest, he looks back at the Shinigami, who somehow have moved to stand next to each other, and laces his voice with menace.

"Is there a problem?"

"Well," begins the masked one, seeming quite socially awkward now despite his chatty nature, "can you not see it?"

They fall quiet again, watching him warily yet with clear incredulity. It doesn't take Light long to realise that the unmasked Shinigami's eyes keep flicking upwards to just above his head, confusion prevalent in his features, and then it all clicks. Blaming the stress of the recent events for this momentary lapse in judgement, he too switches his gaze up, fixing it on the red letters floating above the heads of his acquaintances. There is no lifespan visible, but he can see their names quite clearly.

"Deridovely and Guuku?" he asks, fighting the urge to snort at such strange names.

"Yes!" answers Deridovely, not giving his quieter companion a chance to answer, "Guuku normally wears a mask too, just so you know, he just hasn't got it on right now because he lost a bet this morning and now Midora gets to keep it for the day."

Fascinating – these monsters have ultimate, divine power over the lives of so many humans and yet spend their days making bets over masks. Instead of shaking his head with disappointment like he wants to, Light nods as if he understands.

"Could you show me around now, please?"

"Midora is constantly cheating at Blackjack, Guuku – I'm telling you, you need to stop playing that with her!"

"I know, it's just…"

Letting the ramblings of his chauffeurs fade into a distant background hum, Light finally has some time to think. This is perhaps both a blessing and a curse, because his mind seems incapable of following the routes he tries to set it down, instead reeling off to explore side alleys and crevices it isn't quite welcome in. Whilst trying to find a solution for some of the day's problems and simultaneously calm himself, Light somehow managed to re-open several past wounds and make himself more worried than he had been in the first place, something that was infinitely annoying and painful.

"What do you think, Ryuk?"

They're calling him Ryuk, since that seems to be the name they can see displayed above his head. As a human Light had found the Shinigami eyes to be a valuable tool, but now they are simply an annoyance. He doesn't like the idea of walking around with a name that isn't even his floating around above him, and he certainly doesn't like the almost vulnerability that comes with it.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Listen to this kid, Guuku – he's so confused here!"

Light doesn't know why he feels vulnerable with his name being shown off like this - as a Shinigami he can't be killed by a death note, and even when he was human there was nobody out to murder him using the notebook anyway. Whatever the reason, the residual paranoia makes him feel nervous and angry – a violent part of him wants to lash out at the two showing him around simply to prove to himself that he isn't as weak as he thinks.

Thankfully, he controls himself to maintain simple conversation with them instead, learning about gambling and the different areas in Mu. The information is tedious and the conversation dull, horrifyingly like the way things had been in Light's teenage years, when nobody he spoke to, and nothing he did could hold his attention for long. Again, regret finds its way to him, although the blow is dull this time, and he hopes that he won't have to spend eternity as bored and lonely as he was then.

Eventually, after much walking, Light can see figures in the distance. He doesn't pay them much attention at first, wanting to appear unexcited about the whole affair, but as they grow closer the tension builds until he is sure he will break under its weight. Guuku and Deridovely talk on, completely unaware of their new companion's feelings, and eventually, they are a suitable distance from the group of Shinigami.

Light knows he should look up from his feet, that his body language makes him seem shy and moody rather than smooth, but something about the situation just feels wrong and-

"Guuku, Deridovely – who is this?"

-and suddenly Light knows why.

Slowly, he lifts his head, feeling his heart pounding in his chest but not knowing how, and locks eyes with a Shinigami who had never before managed to scare him like this. The ground seems to shift under his feet and he stumbles, almost latching onto Guuku for support before his pride stops him, active even in moments such as these. Instead, he crashes inelegantly to the floor, hearing the sound of the Shinigami laughing only slightly through his ringing ears.

"You," he hisses, staring up into the ever-baleful eyes of Rem, "you're supposed to be dead!"

Rem appears to be genuinely shocked, but Light hardly savours in it at all as his non-existent stomach lurches and a shout rips its way out of his throat:

"I killed you, so how are you here?"

The skeletal Shinigami crouches reluctantly so that she is face to face with Light, exuding a familiar air of passivity, and peers into his eyes. Knowing how ugly he is in this body he is tempted to shut them and make her look elsewhere, but figures that most of the monsters here are unattractive so perhaps Rem won't mind too much, or at least won't be able to tell.

"What are you talking about? Are you new here, Ryuk?"

So Rem doesn't remember either? She definitely met Ryuk before when Light was alive, at least twice from what he can remember, so why doesn't she recognise him?

"Stop it," Light grinds out, eyes downcast and teeth gritting, "Stop playing tricks on me, Rem. Just tell me what's going on."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ryuk," she says, and suddenly things begin to fall into place.

Rem is alive, which hints that either Light has been cruelly cheated out of information by Ryuk, or that some kind of time travel has taken place in order for him to be here. As well as this, the hole from which Light could see earth let him look two hundred years into the past, which would logically mean that in just less than two hundred years' time (in human time), it would be possible to see his human self through it.

He feels horror crawling inside of his body, wriggling under his skin as he recalls past physics textbooks and philosophy lectures all at once, remembers reading about theories of loops in time and space and thinking nothing of it – because how could he have known that something inside of an obscure physics textbook would ever apply to his life?

"I-" comes a stutter, sounding weak even with Ryuk's frightening voice, "-I'm Ryuk…"

Rem nods, watching him with confused unease as he runs his clawed hands through the sand on the floor as an attempt of self-soothing. He traces patterns and pictures into it – a star, a circle, what could be perceived as an unruly puff of hair.

He is Ryuk, and somehow within the next two hundred years he will manage to drop a Death Note down to his human self, who will pick it up, die, and become, well, Ryuk – and then everything will start again. He imagines that around the time of the human Light's death, he will die suddenly too, which will allow the cycle to continue.

Really, the chances of this happening are so tiny that Light wants to laugh at himself for even thinking about it, but all of the evidence points towards it and he knows he cannot simply ignore that. Hopelessness replaces horror and fills him up completely, drowning him even though he is aware he hasn't needed to breathe since his arrival in Mu. Pride is discarded as he curls up into a ball on the sandy ground, the stress too much for him to take even as Rem pats him awkwardly on the shoulder.

It is now that he realises Shinigami can't cry, because he expects his eyes to begin watering now, expects his nose to be clogged and his head to feel achy. But none of this happens; he just remains lying in the foetal position, whimpering desperately as imaginary walls cave in on him. Funny, that the person who wanted so desperately to be inhuman, to be a God, is now lying on the floor wishing they could do the most human thing of all.

He remains in this position for a good while, until all the other Shinigami have gone away – with the exception of Guuku, who remains seated on a log a few meters away yet makes no attempts to converse.

Just as he is calming down, it happens – and he recognises the feeling almost instantly, from when he was incarcerated by L. Crying out, he lifts the arm that does not lie beneath him and clenches dramatically at his hair, trying to hang on to something, any kind of memory from his times as a human. He can't lose these memories, or else the cycle will simply repeat itself and he'll never break free of it, but whatever kind of force is removing them does not listen to his pleas.

"Ryuk, are you okay?" calls Guuku, rushing to his side from the log.

Ryuk, finding the other Shinigami's attempt at kindness to be amusing, sits up and wonders briefly about why he had been so upset. Although the events are recent he cannot recall them correctly and after a moment decides to give up, finding it to be ultimately unimportant.

"I'm fine," he tells Guuku, "I'm not sure what all that fuss was even about, actually."

The monster nods knowingly.

"Maybe this will make you feel better," he says, reaching into a pouch tied around his waist and pulling out an apple.

Ryuk takes it with an eerie smile.

Mu – Date/Time unknown

He has done this before, several times, in order to temporarily escape the humdrum of Mu, but not many humans can handle the power of the notebook for long and so he finds himself back rather quickly. This time he expects no differently, leaning further in to closer inspect the place he will be dropping the notebook. It appears to be a school, smart-looking with an air of success, and the sight of it gives him a twinge of nostalgia.

A few students mill around outside, chatting eagerly and wearing matching uniforms – and Ryuk decides he definitely has seen this before. The uniforms are so familiar to him, and perhaps it is a laughable thing for a Shinigami to think but he can almost feel the assuring grip of the crimson tie around his neck.

But then suddenly the idea is not so strange, as several images work their way into his head at once – pulling on the white shirt, combing his auburn hair, picking up the Death Note, and then many more memories come to him (and he knows now that they are memories, not just images of something distant) and he doubles over, screaming hoarsely.

He is alone, so thankfully nobody can see him like this, although that is the least of his worries now, because that school is his and those uniforms are his and somewhere in that building, about to come out, is his human self.

Ryuk, inches away from dropping his spare Death Note onto planet Earth, takes a few steps back, and simply does not do so.