Light Yagami's POV:
I believed there was no heaven or hell for me. No afterlife for me where I would be rewarded for the good I did.
That there was Only nothingness - Mu - for me. That's what I believed.
I was wrong.
My name is Light Yagami. I was Kira, the god of justice who cleansed the world of evil. And then I died.
I remember it clearly. The warehouse. Near's smug face. The burning pain in my chest as Ryuk wrote my name in his Death Note. My desperate crawl up those metal stairs, blood trailing behind me. The sunset filtering through dirty windows as my vision faded.
I didn't go to Mu. I fell through it.
That's the only way I can describe what happened. An endless, terrifying fall through absolute darkness. And then the dying began.
Heart attack. The first death, my own death, experienced again in excruciating detail. But it didn't end there.
Car accident. Drowning. Suicide. Strangulation.
Every death I had ever written in the Death Note, I experienced. Every single one. Over 100,000 deaths, each felt with perfect clarity. The terror. The pain. The despair as life slipped away.
Some were quick - heart attacks, instantaneous accidents. Others lingered: cancer patients who wasted away over weeks, their bodies betraying them cell by cell; suicides who changed their minds too late, regretting their choice as oxygen deprivation clouded their thoughts.
I died for what felt like eternity. Seventy days of non-stop death. Punishment? Justice? I don't know. I only know that something fundamental changed within me during those deaths.
And then, when I had died in every way I had ever killed, I fell once more.
This time, I woke up.
The first thing I noticed was how bright everything was. Blinding white lights. Blurry figures moving above me. Giant hands lifting me.
I couldn't move properly. My limbs wouldn't respond to my commands. My voice produced only wailing sounds instead of words.
I had been reborn as an infant.
The realization should have been horrifying, but after endless deaths, even this indignity was a relief. I was alive. I could think. I could see.
And what I saw changed everything.
Floating above every person's head was a name. And numbers. Just like when I had traded for the Shinigami Eyes.
The nurse holding me: Sarah Mitchell - 49821. The doctor examining me: Thomas Greene - 38762.
I could see their names and lifespans without making any deal, without sacrificing half my life.
I had become a Shinigami.
"He doesn't cry much," the orphanage worker noted, peering down at me in my crib. "Almost unnaturally quiet for a three-month-old."
Another worker shrugged. "Count your blessings. Better than the screamers."
I watched them leave, abandoning me in a room with five other infants. No one had named me yet. The paperwork simply listed me as "Male Infant, Found at St. Mary's Hospital Entrance, Est. DOB 02/28."
I had been left at a hospital doorstep in this new world. No parents. No identity. Nothing but the cursed gift of my memories and these strange eyes.
The first year was the most humiliating. Trapped in a helpless body, dependent on overworked staff who barely had time to feed us, let alone provide affection.
I endured it by retreating into my mind, analyzing what I knew about my situation.
1) I had died as Light Yagami and been reborn with my memories intact.
2) I possessed the Shinigami Eyes naturally, without making a deal.
3) I was in a different world - the technology was similar but more advanced, and there were news reports of people with extraordinary abilities.
4) I required minimal sustenance. When the staff occasionally forgot to feed me, I felt discomfort but not the desperate hunger a normal infant would experience.
By the time I was two, I had confirmed another Shinigami trait: I didn't need to sleep. I could, and sometimes did to appear normal, but it wasn't necessary.
Instead, I spent nights observing my surroundings and listening to conversations among the night staff.
"Another hero-villain battle downtown," a night nurse whispered to her colleague. "Destroyed half of Jefferson Street. They say Darkwing took down the whole gang by himself."
Heroes. Villains. People with powers. This world was fundamentally different from the one I had left behind.
I began to formulate a plan. I would need an identity. Education. Resources. And most importantly, I would need to understand the rules of this new existence.
Was I truly a Shinigami now? Did I have a Death Note waiting for me somewhere? Could I die again?
By age four, I had manipulated the staff into believing I was exceptionally gifted. It wasn't difficult - I simply applied my adult intelligence to childish tasks, creating the impression of a prodigy - though of course I was in fact one, even in my first life.
"Light is reading at a third-grade level already," I overheard Mrs. Benson tell the director. "And his mathematical abilities are off the charts."
"Has he been tested for placement?" the director asked.
"Not yet. But we should consider it. A child like that shouldn't waste away here."
I had chosen the name Light - apparently, I was allowed to choose - for myself when asked what I wanted to be called.
It was a risk, maintaining my original identity in any way, if there were ones here that somehow knew of Light - the Death Note user - but I couldn't bear to abandon the only thing I could possibly still have in this world from my first one.
The Eastside Children's Home was a dreary place - underfunded, understaffed, and overcrowded.
Perfect for a child who needed minimal supervision.
I spent most of my time in the small library, devouring books on science, mathematics, and most importantly, the history of this world.
I learned about the Guardians of the Globe, this world's premier superhero team.
About Darkwing, War Woman, the Immortal, and others who protected humanity from various threats.
About Omni-Man, the most powerful hero of all, who had come to Earth as a visitor from another planet.
It was fascinating and concerning in equal measure. In my original world, the Death Note had given me power over life and death.
Here, there were beings who could level cities with their bare hands. My intellect alone might not be sufficient in such a landscape.
By age seven, I had established myself as the orphanage's star resident. Perfect grades, impeccable behavior, and just enough social skills to avoid seeming abnormal.
The staff adored me. The other children respected or feared me, depending on their own intelligence.
I had also confirmed more aspects of my Shinigami nature. I could go days without food if necessary.
My vision was supernaturally acute, allowing me to see details at distances that should have been impossible.
And most importantly, I had figured out how to interpret the numbers above people's heads.
Ryuk had never explained the formula, but with years to study and compare, I'd worked it out.
By converting them with the formula in mind, I could determine exactly when someone would die.
Mrs. Benson: 12 years, 4 months, 18 days.
Timothy, the boy who bullied smaller children: 67 years, 2 months, 5 days.
Director Walters: 9 years, 11 months, 3 days.
It was fascinating data, though without a Death Note, I couldn't manipulate these numbers.
Still, the knowledge itself was power. I knew who would live and who would die. When tragedy would strike and who would survive it.
"Light, would you like to join us for a field trip next week?" Mrs. Benson asked one afternoon. "We're taking a group to the Science Center."
I smiled politely. "I'd enjoy that very much, Mrs. Benson. Thank you."
She beamed at me. "Such good manners. I don't understand why no one has adopted you yet. You're such a perfect child."
Perfect. The word followed me across worlds. Perfect student. Perfect son. Perfect murderer. Perfect punishment.
I maintained my mask of perfection because it was useful, not because I believed in it anymore. After dying 100,000 deaths, perfection being someone like me seems like a particularly absurd concept.
At age ten, everything changed.
I was walking back from the local library, having secured permission to go alone due to my exemplary behavior record. As I passed a crowded street, something caught my attention.
The numbers had changed.
Nearly everyone I could see had drastically reduced lifespans. People who should have lived decades more now had mere weeks left.
It wasn't just one or two individuals - it was almost everyone.
I stopped walking, analyzing the pattern. This wasn't random. Something catastrophic was coming.
Over the next few days, I observed the same phenomenon throughout the city. The average lifespan I could see had dropped from decades to weeks.
Some variation existed - certain neighborhoods showed longer lifespans than others - but the pattern was clear: a mass casualty event was approaching.
Without a Death Note, I had no way to change this outcome or even determine its cause. All I could do was ensure my own survival.
I mapped the city, noting areas where people had longer lifespans. If they would survive whatever was coming, those locations were likely safer.
I began spending more time in those areas, establishing routines that would place me there when disaster struck.
The news of the Guardians' deaths came as no surprise to me. I had seen the dramatic drop in their lifespans days before it happened.
"This is unprecedented," the news anchor said, her voice trembling slightly. "All members of the Guardians of the Globe found dead in their headquarters. Authorities are investigating, but no suspects have been identified."
The orphanage was in chaos. The children were frightened, the staff distracted. Perfect conditions for me to implement my survival plan.
"Mrs. Benson," I said, approaching her with my most innocent expression. "May I stay at the library late today? I'm working on a special project about heroes, and with what's happened... I think it would help me process everything."
Her eyes softened. "Of course, Light. Just be back before dark."
I had no intention of returning. Instead, I went to the area I had identified as having the longest average lifespans - a quiet residential neighborhood on the outskirts of the city.
I found a small park with dense shrubbery where I could hide and wait.
The attack came two days later.
I had been surviving on minimal food and water, moving between hiding spots to avoid detection.
When the ground began to shake and distant explosions echoed across the city, I knew my predictions had been correct.
From my vantage point in an abandoned building, I watched as Omni-Man - the world's greatest hero - systematically destroyed the city center. Buildings collapsed. Streets cracked open.
People ran screaming as death rained from above.
It was horrifying and fascinating in equal measure. One being with such destructive power. In my original world, I had needed a supernatural notebook and careful planning to kill.
Here, a single individual could accomplish significantly more destruction in minutes.
The orphanage was among the first buildings to fall. I watched from miles away as the section of the city where I had spent the last decade was flattened.
Everyone I had known - staff, children, neighbors - was gone in an instant.
I felt... nothing. Not relief at my escape. Not sadness for the lost lives. Not even the satisfaction I might once have felt at predicting the catastrophe correctly.
Just a hollow emptiness that echoed through my being.
Perhaps that was the final confirmation of my Shinigami nature. Ryuk had never shown genuine emotion towards death either.
The weeks following the attack were chaotic. Relief efforts. Rebuilding. Speculation about Omni-Man's betrayal and disappearance. I survived on the margins, stealing food when necessary, sleeping in abandoned buildings.
My situation was precarious. As a ten-year-old with no official identity papers (they had been destroyed with the orphanage), I was vulnerable.
If caught, I would be placed back into the system. But with my Shinigami attributes, I could survive indefinitely on minimal resources.
The question was: what now?
In my original world, I had the Death Note - a tool that gave me purpose and power. Here, I was just a child with supernatural eyes in a world of beings who could tear planets apart.
I sat on a park bench, contemplating my options, when I felt it - a presence so overwhelming that it froze me in place.
A cloud of darkness approached, though no one else seemed to notice it. Within the darkness, I could hear whispers - millions of voices crying out in agony. The echoes of deaths beyond counting.
And walking casually through this miasma of death was a man carrying grocery bags.
He was unremarkable in appearance compared to sourced from him - decently tall, handsome, very muscular build, simple clothing.
But my Shinigami eyes showed me the truth. Where a name and lifespan should float above his head, there was only one symbol:
Infinity.
Not a number representing seconds or years. Just the concept itself, somehow expressed visually.
And the cloud of death that surrounded him... I had never seen anything like it. It was as if he walked with the souls of countless civilizations trailing behind him.
My heart pounded in my chest. For the first time since my rebirth, I felt genuine fear. This was beyond a superhero or villain. Beyond even a Shinigami.
Then he looked at me.
His eyes met mine, and I knew he could tell that I saw him - truly saw him, beyond the human disguise.
He changed direction, walking directly toward me. My body refused to move, paralyzed by something more primal than any fear I've ever felt.
It was like a mouse watching a hawk descend, knowing escape was impossible.
He sat beside me on the bench, placing his grocery bags between us.
"You can see it, can't you?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.
I couldn't lie. Couldn't even think of lying. "Yes."
"What's your name?"
"Light Yagami," I answered automatically, the truth pulled from me without resistance.
He nodded, as if confirming something to himself.
Then, to my astonishment, a soft rose-colored light began to emanate from him, enveloping me in a gentle warmth that somehow calmed my racing heart.
"You're alone," he said. Not a question.
I nodded, still unable to form coherent sentences.
What was he? Even a shinigami like Ryuk - a supposed god of death had a limited life span, but this being didn't.
He is immortal.
My mind raced with every story I knew, every myth, ever creature I've ever read about in this world and my past, trying to find anything that could possibly fit this being, it being highly likely to be futile, notwithstanding.
I needed to do something as my body was paralysed.
"I'm Goku," he said, offering his hand. "Son Goku."
The name triggered my memory - Chinese mythology. Sun Wukong, the Monkey King from "Journey to the West," known as Son Goku in Japanese translations.
A powerful deity who rebelled against heaven itself before being subdued and finding redemption.
But this being... the death that surrounded him suggested something far darker than the god of legend. Nothing in those myths stated that he killed so many.
But - that symbol of infinity - it certainly fit the being with layers upon layers of immortality.
My mind raced through possibilities.
If the myths were wrong about Shinigami - since Ryuk clearly expressed how contradicting humans beliefs were about them compared to reality - , they could certainly be wrong about other gods - if they existed.
Perhaps this was indeed Sun Wukong, but a version who had destroyed worlds rather than merely causing chaos in heaven.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, reaching into one of his bags and offering me an apple.
I took it mechanically, though I had no appetite. "Thank you."
We sat in silence for a moment, him seemingly content to watch people pass by, me trying desperately to understand what I was facing.
Suddenly, his expression changed. His brow furrowed, and he muttered, "What is that kid doing..."
He seemed to be focusing on something far away, something only he could perceive.
Then he turned back to me, his decision apparently made. "Do you have anywhere to go, Light?"
I shook my head.
"Would you like to come with me?" he asked, standing and offering his hand.
I stared at that hand, weighing my options. To refuse might offend a being of clearly immense power.
To accept meant placing myself in the orbit of something potentially more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered.
But hadn't I done the same when I picked up the Death Note? Hadn't I always been drawn to power, to the supernatural forces that shaped the world? Refusing to be out of range of influecing such might?
And more practically, what choice did I have? I was a child without resources in a world recovering from catastrophe.
I took his hand.
"Good choice," he said with a smile that seemed genuinely warm despite the cloud of death that surrounded him. "I think you'll fit right in with my family."
As we walked away from the park, my hand in his like the child I appeared to be, I couldn't help but reflect on the irony of my situation.
I, who had once proclaimed myself the god of a new world, was now following an actual god through the streets of a city I barely understood.
I, who had used the Death Note to control the fates of thousands, was now completely at the mercy of a being who had apparently ended billions.
But I had always adapted. Always found a way to turn situations to my advantage. This would be no different.
If I couldn't be a god in this world, I would learn from one.
And perhaps, in time, I would discover why I had been brought here - why a Shinigami was reborn in a world of superheroes and villains.
Whatever the reason, one thing was certain: Light Yagami's story was far from over.
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(Author note: I'm back! Well, I finally know how I'm going to be taking this story further.
So, do tell me what you think of Light being taken in by Goku - since of course, Goku recognized him, the apple being given was my trying to show that, Shinigami and all liking appels.
I rewatched a lot of Death Note recently and well... Yeah, I just wanted to write Light so here we are.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)