STORY SUMMARY: Being reborn into a Japanese story was bad enough. Being reborn as the twin sister to a certain notorious mass murderer, was another thing entirely. Told in a series of drabbles. Warning: Mild incest themes.

Rating: T (Subject to change)

GENERAL DISCLAIMER: It's not my sandbox. I'm just playing in it.

AN: Just a little peek into the disaster that is Kira. Enjoy! Also, thank you, everyone for the continuous support!

Chapter Eighteen : Interlude : Love

Light used the corner of a clean handkerchief to dab gently at his newly developing wound. In the bathroom mirror, he could clearly make out a jagged red cut; leading from the top right lip, all the way down to a centimeter below his bottom. A trivial price to pay in exchange for a millisecond of ecstasy—but a mistake all the same. He shouldn't have done that.

"Ah-haha! Should'a seen that one coming—I've changed my mind, Light. yer sister is great!" Ryuk had been at it for nearly an hour now. An hour, in which, Minori had been missing and Light had managed to inwardly proclaim himself several kinds of idiot.

"I didn't think she had it in her. Ha-haha, you should'a seen yer face!" The nearly hysterical shinigami was currently fading in and out of the tiny enclosed area; though occasionally disappearing altogether, his laughter resonating even through multiple sets doors and walls. Light, fortunately, was well adept in ignoring him. Instead, he set down the neat square of fabric, and made eye contact with his reflection.

A mistake. It sure felt like it—but also, one he'd be very willing to repeat. No. Light sneered at himself. He wasn't permitted to think like that. What had happened? How could he have let himself slip-up so severely? His self control was impeccable, and yet—

The genius had initially only wanted to make a point; distract Minori from her endless questions—and perhaps even teach a lesson or two. But after the fact, it was clear that he'd made the wrong move. Light felt irrationally angry. Not at Minori, and not so much at himself—no—the person to blame was Kurosawa.

Even years—years—after Light first encountered that damned entry, that boy continued to plague him. Or, realistically speaking, it wasn't so much Kurosawa as it was what he represented; the idea of any trifling, ill-bred, boy coming within contact of his sister. It was a constant menace, the paranoia, that lingered whenever Light so much as glimpsed Minori conversing with classmates by the court yard. But more than that, it was the fear that he would some day lose her to someone else—someone unworthy.

Light couldn't say for sure when his feelings for Minori had changed so drastically. He'd always loved her—he'd always sought to shelter her. But, within the past several months, he'd began developing other sentiments; and even more recently, he'd realized just how deeply those roots delved. But Light had also known the emotions he harbored were deviant and unnatural, and if Minori was ever to discover the ways he sometimes pictured her lips—and her hair—and her body—she'd be revolted.

So, as was the proper course of action, he'd attempted to curb such desires—and when that proved to be futile, he'd contented himself with loving her quietly. In a way a brother should never love his sister.

It wasn't until he'd written that first name in the death note, that an inkling of discontent arose. Not just concerning Minori or school…but with life in general. Suddenly, everything Light possessed seemed wholly inadequate compared to what he believed he deserved. He wanted more. He hungered for it. Power. Admiration. Love. Light's obsession with his darling sister began to contort and warp until it was almost entirely unrecognizable. He adored her still, yes—but he also lusted. Never before had his thoughts wandered so far as to actually imagine obtaining her—in every possible meaning of the word. However, it was more than that; what was considered right and wrong became progressively more distorted until Light could now no longer discern the difference between the two.

A lesser part of himself, a much lesser and inconsequential one—sometimes questioned if he was going mad. But then the red haze would return and remind him of all the things and the person he could one day hope to possess. Just not quite yet.

The kiss—the kiss had been a colossal error because he hadn't expected her lips to be so soft or her breath to taste so sweet. That was the problem; Light knew he'd never be able to push that split second in time from the forefront of his memory. He'd forever dwell on it until it was replaced by the next act of reluctant affection he could steal from her. The death note would give him power, but only Minori could bring him happiness.

"Liiight—hey Light! You've been staring at yourself for ages. Yer starting to freak me out. Let's get outa here."

The young man blinked, then slanted his eyes towards the god of death. "Ryuk. Something I've been wondering lately—is there anything in particular you failed to mention regarding Minori?

Ryuk paused, his disproportionate limbs swinging. "Even if there was, why would I tell you?"

"Hm. I suppose you're right." Light said, exiting the washroom. Besides, I think we both already know what the answer is.

AN: I have so much fun writing from Light's twisted mind-set; it gives me the creeps. Please let me know your opinions!