A.N. This was inspired by Blueberry-Valentine's fic Machine, which is about L. The two fics are parallel right now, but in chapters towards the end it may deviate from that. So you don't have to read Machine to read this, but it's still an awesome fic and you should anyway. Also, please review!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. (That includes Death Note.)

I am zero years old when I think I see an angel. It is my first sensation when I open my eyes. I unwittingly stare directly at a lightbulb, and I have an innate feeling that it is something supernatural. At this point in my life I have barely been exposed to the natural, so how this sensation came about is unknown to me. Still, it is there until I discover that a lightbulb is, in fact, a machine.

It is February 28 when Sachiko Yagami gives birth to me after only two and a half hours in labor. I am aware that the people around me look proud and happy. The doctor congratulates my mother and father, and those I will come to know as my relatives smile and ask my parents what they will name me. I later overhear my grandmother, Hana, asking my uncle, Makoto, why my parents gave me such an unusual name. Makoto shrugs and says that 'Light' is not an easy name to forget.

I am taken home from the hospital at the beginning of March. My parents live on the ninth floor of an apartment building in Tokyo. There is a window near my crib, and I enjoy watching the street through it for a while. As my eyes improve, I realize that the cars come and go in patterns. When my father enters and exits the apartment, it fits into this pattern. The flow of traffic begins to bore me soon after I come to this conclusion.

Fortunately, around this time I start toddling around and my parents begin to talk to me in something other than cooing and baby talk. This is much more interesting than cars and pedestrians. I want to be able to communicate like that as soon as possible. My father, Soichiro, is the first to notice my concentration whenever someone speaks around me. He brags to Makoto the next time he visits our apartment: "See that? Light's trying to learn how to talk."

Makoto is skeptical. "He's a little young, don't you think?"

I am offended by this. I want to respond, but I have not yet mastered the act of speaking. I don't want to try it in front of people until I'm sure I can make myself totally clear.

"What's wrong with being early?" my father asks. He rubs my fuzzy head and says, "I bet you can understand every word we're saying, can't you, Light?"

I'm too young to understand the concept of a rhetorical question. I nod, making both men jump.

"That's amazing!" my father exclaims. "Sachiko's got to see this." With that, he hurries to the kitchen, every inch an excited dad.

Makoto continues to stare at me. "You are one smart kid," he says.

I sense something in his tone that I don't like, even if I'm not sure what it is. People act happier and more carefree around children as small as I am, I have noticed, but Makoto is being very strange. He's looking at me like my father looks at the papers he brings with him when he comes home during the evening surge of traffic. Does he guess that maybe I don't understand every word?

To put my uncle at ease, I turn the corners of my mouth up in a smile. This is an action that adults seem to adore. It even leads to some of them pinching my cheeks, which I abhor. Makoto does not harass me in this way, but he does smile back.

My father reenters the room with my mother in tow. Makoto turns away from me to tell my parents that he has to go. While they say their goodbyes, I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. As much as I like attention, I'm tired of it now.