#death note genderswap | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bookwormbynight · 2 months ago

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Thank you for summoning me!!!!

Exploring genderbent!Light aside (always fun, family dynamic and Light's experience trying to get taken seriously was fuckin good dude), I really fucking enjoyed an actual exploration of Misa's origin story. It was in character, it was in depth, it was human and emotional and Misa's level of intelligent (which is to say, definitely not stupid). Highly recommend. Wish that was a little oneshot on AO3 so I could add it to my bookmarks and use it for the canon in my head but alas :')

heres what i got for the zetsubou billy the dyke fic so far btw. teruhashi enjoyers will know where i'm coming from.

Statistically speaking, a female serial killer is considered ‘anomalous’. Uncommon.

Rare.

This is despite the frankly lacking research into the subject.

What few of these women have risen to prominence tend to follow along certain trends. White. Average to high intelligence. Employed in health care. Whether their targets, their victims, are thus because of convenience or in a bid to seek attention further divides the statistics.

Statistics.

Numbers.

Pieces of data. Impersonal, unafraid, incomplete.

No, statistically speaking a woman is unlikely to become a serial killer.

It’s much more likely she’ll become a victim.

“I-I’m sorry,” Her breath rattled in her chest.

It was dark. Her apartment wasn’t that far from the bus stop, but it was dark, and the street was cold, and though she could hear the faint hum of the television from the home next to her she knew, knew deep within her, that nobody would be coming to her aid.

They never had.

How could she deescalate this situation? How could she get out of this and still get home safely? The thought tore through her mind to just turn and run, but.

But the man was bigger than her. He had longer legs that could eat up the distance far easier. And in the off chance that she did make it home, the only thing that would do was lead this person straight there.

She put on her sweetest smile and hoped it didn’t tremble too much. “I. I’m flattered! But I’m sorry. I’m so b-busy with work, I. I don’t have time for a boyfriend right now.”

Did. Did she bow? To show polite deference, to seem kind? But that would take her eyes off the man and he-

He had a knife.

The memory of her parents' bloodied bodies pulsed through her mind's eye and she swallowed sharply. This was just the topper on a terrible day, wasn’t it. Only today the trial had ended and the man she’d seen kill her parents had been set free.

He’d been set free, and he’d been laughing.

She’d spent the train ride back to Kanto in a numb haze, a creeping misery slowly coming upon her as reality set in.

She should have killed him.

The thought settled onto her suddenly. She should have killed that vile man. Right outside the courthouse, she should have killed him. Pushed him into traffic, or stabbed his eye out with her high heel, or clubbed him to death with a rock. She should have killed him. It wouldn’t bring her parents back, but it would be justice that the law refused to serve no matter her eyewitness testimony.

She should have killed him when she had the chance.

Misa knew with sharp intuition that she wouldn’t have that chance ever again.

“I. I see.” The stranger’s shoulders slumped.

He was plain. Older than her by what looked like a wide margin. There was a ring on his finger.

Pathetic.

So pathetic, and yet-

Her eyes swung down to take in the large kitchen knife again. She slowly took a step back, praying the sound of her heel scraping the ground wouldn’t set him off. If she could just find a place to hide-

But then what.

Call the police?

She’d called the police once before. They’d promised her justice for the slaughter of her parents, then they’d botched the investigation and the man she’d seen do it had gone free. There was that, and the news reports. Women being stalked. Women going to the police to save them. Women being killed by their stalkers anyway. The general public shaking their heads in sympathy. If only the police had been able to do something sooner, then that beautiful life wouldn’t have been cut so tragically short. But alas, the law was the law, and their hands were tied. Stalking by itself was such a minor offense. Who would have thought it would turn into murder?

And then, if the murderer was caught at all, they’d get between five and ten years.

The man looked to the side, not so coincidentally the side whose hand held the knife. Misa could feel her hands shake, a cold sweat pooling rancid in her stomach.

“So you’re not interested in me,” The man’s voice was shaking too. “I see. I... see.”

Where was the justice in that?

Misa was going to die here tonight.

She swallowed and took another step back, her heart hammering in her chest, her hand reaching behind her to take a firm grasp of her skirt.

She could only hope it would be quick, that it wouldn’t be preceded first by the ultimate violation. Maybe, if she got lucky, if she got so lucky, she’d somehow be able to tear the knife from the stranger’s grip and stick it in him before he could put it in her.

Her parents’ killer hadn’t even gone to jail so surely she wouldn’t for defending herself, right?

But she had to make sure she killed him.

If she didn’t kill him, he’d only come back to attack her again.

Her entire body started to sing and her other hand grabbed her bag. It wasn’t very heavy, but if she could blind him, and then-and then make him trip or something, maybe she’d be able to get the knife when he fell.

She wouldn’t be overpowering him otherwise.

‘I have to make it look like an accident.’ A cool drop of sweat seared the skin of her throat. ‘I can’t make it look too deliberate.’

Her eyes flashed over his body, and landed on his neck. His throat. She’d go for his throat. If she got lucky-

Her parents' bodies, rended open, sacks of meat with gaping faces on their living room floor.

If she got so lucky-

The knife swung up and the man gripped it with both his hands. All the sizzling hope drained right out of her.

“Then I’ll kill you,” He cried, deranged, his eyes bulging and his teeth flashing in the low light. “And kill myself afterwards!”

He lunged for her. Misa felt herself scream. Just like before it all seemed to happen in slow motion. She threw up her hands.

There was a sound like a knife clattering to the ground, and then there was nothing. Nothing but ragged panting, and the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears. Misa slowly lowered her hands, wincing through them, and found a boggling sight.

The stranger stood in front of her, arms at his sides, swaying lightly back and forth like a buoy in shaky waters. His eyes were dazed, but he wasn’t even looking at her anymore.

And then.

And then?

He turned and he walked away.

Misa gaped after him, then started and breathed a sharp gasp. What the hell was she doing just standing here, this was her chance!

She turned, and she ran.

Just in case, instead of going home she ran to the nearest convenience store, a 711 that was thankfully only a block away and required a right turn as opposed to a left. There, she pushed her way to the counter and wailed for the clerk to call the police.

Maybe they wouldn’t do anything. Maybe the man would still come after her and kill her - he clearly knew the area in which she lived.

But she could at least get the file started and hope that, should she die, a kind hearted detective who actually cared might look at a picture of her corpse and decide to do his best for her with the information she’d already given them.

Only it didn’t end up going that way.

“What?” Misa gasped, staring up at the officer in shock.

She was in the back of a cruiser, a blanket clutched tight around her shoulders, the door open and wagging in the wind. Above her, the officer nodded.

“It looks like a heart attack.”

Dead.

He was.

He was dead?

Misa didn’t know what to do with that. She swallowed tightly and looked at her knees. There was a tear in her dark stocking, a bandage on her knee. She’d tripped in her haste to get away.

‘What horrible luck.’ She thought, a tremble crawling through her. ‘Thank goodness.’

Maybe it wasn’t right to be thankful a man had died, and it was eerie to know she was probably the last person to see him alive, but. But thank goodness.

Thank goodness.

“Honestly it’s a bit of a strange coincidence. You should probably be grateful to him, really.”

Blankness shot through her. Slowly, Misa looked up at the officer. He was giving her a half-hearted, awkward smile.

She knew he was trying to be kind.

But.

“Grateful?” She asked in a shivering whisper.

The officer adjusted his cap and nodded, looking left. “Yeah. He gave you a, uh, a pretty perfect alibi actually. Just a little while ago, the man you say killed your parents - he died too.”

The officer looked at her, and there was a queerness in his eye. Almost a fear.

“Another heart attack.”

Her breath stalled out in her chest, and instead of air she was filled with something like light, her eyes widening slowly.

A heart attack. No. Two heart attacks.

Kira.

Kira, that myth that had been going around on the internet, the cause the populace had attributed to the sudden outbreak of lethal heart attacks among criminals. Kira was real.

Kira had saved her life.

Kira had given her parents justice.

Misa would never have the chance to kill the man that’d killed her parents, no, but Ken Inoue was still dead. He would never be able to hurt anyone else, ever again.

Kira.

Misa took in a trembling breath at last and shut her eyes, bowing her head and gathering the gritty blanket all the closer.

‘Thank you.’

The police drove her home. Filled with that lasting golden light, Misa walked her apartment in a daze. She ate. She showered. She changed. She went to bed.

The next day, utterly buoyant beyond anything she’d felt since the day she’d witnessed her parents murder, Misa bounced into a salon. Her hair still smelled like fragrant, upscale bleach when she was scouted for a modelling agency just two hours later.

Thanks to Kira, everything in her life was back on track.

She would never have her parents again, no, but at least now they could rest peacefully.

Misa knew she would be eternally grateful.

And not to that piece of shit stalker either, no matter how much an ignorant cop would insist otherwise.

~~~

“For the past two days, you’ve been followed by somebody.”

‘Ah.’

Light closed her eyes, neatly tucking away the way they’d so briefly widened outside her control.

‘I see.’

Honestly, it was about time.

Still, it was annoying that it was bothering Ryuk. He had yet to prove himself overly unreasonable but she had the sense he could become as such if he wasn’t managed carefully. She flicked her golden brown hair over her shoulder, using the opportunity to give Ryuk a small nod.

“I understand.”

Still walking, she pulled her bag around and opened it, withdrawing a compact. Flicking it open, Light quickly angled it to catch the scenery behind her. A man in dark clothes, with dark hair, casually turned into the convenience store. Approximately 180 centimeters, attractive, possibly mixed race.

The mirror captured her faint smile as she turned it to regard her reflection, gingerly thumbing away a fleck of mascara before closing it and returning it to her bag.

Interesting. Had L turned to the Americans, perhaps?

She would have to be careful still, but she was relieved that so far things had panned out to her expectations. Light’s mistake killing that Lind L. Tailor had been rather embarrassing, but so far she’d managed to salvage her position. Hopefully Light could arrange things just so that it would be the police themselves who would deliver the true L into the spotlight, and from there her rule would be practically a promise.

‘There will be approximately fifty people under investigation,’ Light thought as she let herself in through the gate and then into her house. ‘I don’t expect surveillance will reveal me, but if I can figure out his name, that would be good insurance if it goes that way.’

She certainly didn’t want to kill him if she could help it. If the man who had been following her was an agent, likely FBI or something similar, then he could be of value serving her rule.

‘Then again there’s so many conspiracies the Americans have about the FBI,’ Light thought as she sat at her desk, chin finding the grasp of her fingers. ‘Who’s to say how many therein are honest men and women who serve justice, and who among them are just there for the power.’

It was hard to remember sometimes, but not every police officer was her father.

Light sighed and resisted the urge to rub her eyes. Damn the need for makeup. Her face was perfect without it, but a woman her age who refused to wear any could find herself quickly ostracized. That would hardly serve her purposes, nevermind her pride.

She caught her reflection in the darkness of the computer monitor. In it, she resembled little more than a typical hard working teenager. The man who had been following her, Light recalled the past few days per Ryuk’s timeline, would have seen nothing except that.

She looked into the mirror of her own eyes.

‘Light,’ She thought to herself, absently reaching out to touch her fingertips to the monitor. ‘Light Yagami.’

Seventeen years old, set to graduate highschool at the top of her class, at the top of many things. Her height at once intimidated idiot boys from talking to her and ensured single-handedly any pursuit of ballet would be a private one. She was well aware that people looked up to her, both literally and metaphorically.

The perfect woman. That was what some people sighed where they thought she couldn’t hear them. Smart. Beautiful. Athletic. Talented. Keen of social graces and charismatic. A good older sister, and a fine daughter any parent should be proud to have.

That was who she was.

Was.

Past tense.

But she was on her way to becoming something much, much more.

Light smiled and turned on the computer.

The Death Note had come into her life just a few months ago, and each day since then had brought with it a blessing. Though Ryuk said that he hadn’t chosen her, had only dropped the notebook randomly out of boredom, Light knew she was being called upon to follow her life’s path.

The existence of shinigami simply proved it. A shinigami required that a person had a finite amount of time on this earth, but further an amount that was predetermined. An amount that was judged by fate.

This by itself proved the existence of destiny.

Light believed Ryuk, yes. But her and only her spotting the Death Note fluttering to the ground in a bath of sunlight, its creamy pale pages fluttering like pigeon wings, was no mere coincidence.

The world was rotting - both sides of it, living and dead. It wasn’t hard at all to recall the broadcast she’d overheard on her walk home that fateful school day. Yet another woman murdered. Yet another man arrested. Whether or not he’d serve any meaningful time was to be determined. The police could only do so much after all. So often it had seemed to her that things would go so much smoother should there only be some divine intervention. The efforts of humanity could only stack up so high in the eyes of pure universal truth, and so often there were people who sought to muddy the waters to their own benefit.

Who sought to harm. To take advantage.

Her memory flashed to the image of a frightened woman, not much older than herself, surrounded by leering men on motorcycles. While provoking a very understandable fear, until physical contact was engaged or threats were uttered, the grounds for self-defense in that situation were dubious. There was nothing reasonable Light could have done to help. Had she inserted herself into the situation, it would have only escalated.

Typically, by the time it escalated into the physical, it was too late.

But.

This time, she’d had the Death Note.

By the time the poor woman had begun to scream, the name of her second experiment had already been written down forty times.

To harm, to take advantage, yes.

To kill.

There had been a surge of emotion unlike that which she’d ever felt. It had, admittedly, taken Light some time to truly come around to the idea of harnessing the Death Note’s powers for the ultimate good of humanity. After all, she was killing people. Supposedly, killing people was wrong.

She’d asked her father once why, if killing was wrong, did Japan have the death penalty. She’d been perhaps five. It had taught her a good lesson.

Killing was wrong until you were the authority in charge. Then, and only then, did killing become justice.

Light had found sanctuary and zeal inside the thought that the owner of the terrible, otherworldly notebook would probably kill her, too, when they found her. Until then, she had to use her time wisely and take as many criminals down with her as possible.

Light had been ready to sacrifice everything. She had done very good work in those five days.

And then Ryuk had told her that no, the notebook belonged to her from the second she’d laid hand upon it.

That could only mean one thing.

‘Little wonder why Tailor disturbed me so much,’ Light thought as she browsed her father’s servers. ‘Those accusations…’

The fool. Even though she’d confess to some relief that Tailor had turned out to be a death row inmate, to have been the one to draft that script, to call her a murderer? L truly must be a fool. Whoever the detective was, L could not be counted on to help create a utopia if that was what they truly thought.

The idea that L might be a woman was pondered over briefly, then ultimately discarded. While entirely possible, given the voice scrambling software and anonymity the detective used, it seemed unlikely.

Light knew exactly how difficult it was to be a female attempting to serve the law.

The thought twisted her lip, her heart thudding briefly in anger. She soothed it away habitually. She’d won her father’s respect through her work. She’d won over his coworkers, too. There wasn’t a single police officer in Tokyo who wasn’t aware of her capabilities, she was sure. There was little point in getting irritated over the past, even if her mother continued to lament her desired career path.

‘It would be cool if L was a woman, though.’ She thought as she clicked into another folder.

A pity, given she’d no doubt have to kill them, but still very cool nonetheless.

No, the Death Note had called to her. The Death Note, and the godhood Light would reach through it - that ultimate authority was her destiny. There was nobody better for it. Not even L, hypocrite that they were. Fascinating, how L could put a man to death, on television no less, and call her a murderer simply because she was the guillotine blade - nevermind who put the man’s neck there to begin with. Fascinating, and infuriating, but perhaps, also, comforting. Such a thing required cooperation from the police, the government. It gave her faith those entities could be swayed, should she only be able to convince them. Such would certainly happen with time. It was only the beginning and her reputation was becoming mythic. Crime rates were already dropping. GLOBALLY. It filled her with fierce pride.

She’d make this world a better place or she’d die trying.

Such was the duty of an officer of the law, wasn’t it?

“Light.”

Hm? She raised her eyes, looking upon the grotesque countenance of her companion. Ryuk was certainly an interesting creature to look at - only vaguely humanoid in the overall coincidence of construction. She absently wondered whether or not shinigami had standards for beauty as humans did, and if that was so, where on that scale Ryuk fell.

How was a shinigami born?

How did a shinigami die?

These were questions that, infuriatingly, Ryuk did not know how to answer. Considering how bored he’d been, it was a little baffling how much he’d simultaneously taken so much for granted. How could you deconstruct a structure effectively if you didn’t know the ins and outs of its anatomy? Then again, perhaps Ryuk was simply not as optimistic as her. Could even shinigami learn helplessness?

But he did know some things.

“There are two key differences,” Ryuk said, holding up two very long fingers. “Between a shinigami and a human who use a Death Note.”

Just the two?

Fascinating.

“Do you know why the shinigami have to use the Death Note?” Ryuk asked.

Light couldn’t help her smile. Ryuk really was such a troll, of course she didn’t. “How should I know? You’re very talkative today, Ryuk.”

Ryuk explained.

The thing about eating years - that made sense. But the evolutionary biology that allowed it to happen?

The eyes?

That would have been a boon indeed, had it not come with such a hefty drawback. Light was fully aware of how easily kingdoms crumbled after their creators died. She needed as much time as possible to ensure that would not happen.

Still. It gave her an idea about how to lure her stalker out into the open. Light smiled at her computer.

She had just such a worm to bait the hook with.

But first she had to test the limits of the Death Note’s capabilities. Her fingers, nails painted a sweet blushing pink, swept over its otherworldly surface. It almost hummed beneath her touch, the granular texture seeming to welcome her home.

Light opened the cover and got to work. In a fit of internal hilarity, she smiled.

‘I hope L appreciates the presents.’

~~~

There were things that were expected of Light. She’d discovered this early, and the way this defined the structure of the life she would lead. Social standards came with a hefty rule book, but while Light was nothing if not a perfectionist, there were rules that, plainly put, simply didn’t make sense to her.

Key among them was one tenet in particular.

Life wasn’t fair.

It should be.

To declare this, however, would gain the resulting derision of being called ‘naive’. This, too, didn’t make sense to Light. How was it naive to want equity? To want fairness? Society had so many rules, and so many of those rules had been created seemingly in answer to the idea of equality. Between the lines, however, it was a whole other ballgame.

Light had spent much of her time sorting through this puzzle and putting it together in a way that might both make sense, and exist in a way that she could live with.

Her parents had not appreciated this.

Their reaction made many things clear.

Light Yagami was allowed to be blisteringly intelligent, but she was not allowed to have opinions. Light Yagami was allowed to be stunningly beautiful, but only so she could marry, breed, and pass that beauty onto eventual children. Light Yagami could win medals for her athletics, so long as she didn’t care about them too much. Light Yagami could be interested in fairness, only as long as she didn’t upset the status-quo.

Light Yagami was allowed to be a person, but only sometimes. She was an eldest daughter first.

It was difficult to put into words, the way it felt as though her humanity and independence and pride were things she had to win.

She was at once grateful and spiteful that this was a problem that Sayu didn’t seem to have. Tracking her little sister’s development had been eye-opening. Sayu seemed to have very little problem fitting into the mold society had seemingly designed for her. Intelligent, but not too much so. Pretty, but down to earth. Charismatic and popular, but interested in the things everybody was seemingly interested in.

Perhaps the lynchpin was that Sayu was more interested in Hideki Ryuuga than the idea of pursuing police work. Light had watched time and time again as Sayu’s crooning over actors and romcoms and magazines and pop music softened the line of their mother’s shoulders as though this behaviour was somehow reassuring. Those same shoulders would so often tense oh so subtly if Light did not do the same.

So, though Light did resent it, she did actually try to follow suit. She studied her classmates and gained popularity. She ensured the length and health of her hair and nails. She wore skirts that were short, but not too short - enough that her mother would tease her for trying to catch ‘the right boy's eye’ and her father, when he was home, would wince but laugh. She wore mascara that itched her eyes, and took note of popular makeup trends. When she grew taller than her female classmates, she let her hair grow out all the longer so her build wouldn’t diminish her femininity. All the while, she earned top grades.

In every way she could stomach, Light became a chameleon to best please her family.

It was a far reaching plan that, if it succeeded, could maybe convince some reciprocation of her effort - or so Light had hoped, eleven years old and unable to sleep on her front. If she did these things, maybe she would be allowed to become a police officer like her father. A detective. Maybe by the time she was old enough, the world would have changed enough, and her track record would speak for itself enough, that she too would become a police chief that people respected. Light would be able to help the world become a fairer, safer place.

Maybe.

Just maybe.

It involved a lot more scraping and clawing and bitter, teeth-clenched spite than she’d expected as a prepubescent but by the twelfth time she’d nailed the perp in a case, even her father had to admit that letting her mind go to waste would be a shameful use of resources. She’d been thirteen.

He’d worked on Sachiko.

Her mother had relented - somewhat. It was by and large unspoken, but Light knew for a fact that she was expected to still have children no matter her chosen career. Preferably two. A son first, and then a daughter. If Light failed to meet this expectation then her other achievements would suddenly mean very little.

She would become an embarrassment.

To say that it grated was an understatement.

This was an emotion, however, that she tucked tightly away.

Light worked relentlessly to be the best. To be the perfect daughter. Things that had been difficult at first became as easy as breathing. Light was the shining star of the Yagami family and her school district.

For all the stress that had plagued her at first, the success actually became rather boring.

And then new challenges presented themselves.

Puberty. Or, more specifically, boys in puberty. Which brought her back around to the idea of children, and how best to please her own goals and her family at the same time.

When she was fifteen and turning down a boy for the fifth time that week (it was Wednesday), Light had decided upon her route of compromise. If she took care of herself, she would still be beautiful enough by the time she was twenty-two that she could likely get any man she preferred. The man in question would need to be intelligent enough they could communicate effectively, but not so intelligent that he couldn’t be swayed. He’d preferably be handsome enough that they wouldn’t look odd together, but also interested in keeping house because Light would really prefer to not give up her career. They would then adopt two children, preferably by the time she was twenty-five. This would disappoint her parents initially, but the social capital would soothe that over easily enough. After all, it was oh so admirable, oh so understandable, that a woman in her field would see disadvantaged children and strive to take them in. To give them a chance they’d otherwise not get. It’d help that Sayu would very likely have her own biological children, barring any unexpected fertility issues.

Maybe Light would even come to love her future children and husband, she’d sometimes hope for wistfully. It would probably make life easier. Even if she didn’t, though, she would do her best by them, financially and otherwise. Sex, for instance, would be an unfortunate but required hassle. When she realized this, Light added to her list of requirements.

Her future husband would need to be experienced, preferably older than her so age would diminish his libido and he’d know enough to not hurt her. It would narrow the list further since this required the eventual partner to value virginity, but not to a feteshistic degree that might drive him to cheat on her and cause embarrassment. Light did waffle on this somewhat, fully aware that her refusal to be ‘easy’ would likely narrow down the pool to a potentially annoying extent. Sounding out her parents delicately over the course of a couple months decided the matter. Light was ultimately her father’s ‘little girl’ - her comfort was therefore paramount. While her mother would prefer she not make waves, Soichirou knew her well enough to trust her discretion. If it came down to it, she would have his support. Relieved, Light promptly, albeit internally, prioritized her own comfort.

Hell, maybe if she got exceptionally lucky, she could convince a gay man to accept her as his beard and then sex wouldn’t be an issue at all. It would require discretion and NDAs for his partner or partners, but it was an entertaining possibility.

This meant that Light could not afford to burn the bridges in her local area, or gain a reputation for being a ‘cold fish’ - whatever that meant. That would only drive suitors away or, worse, incite the urge to ‘teach her her place’.

This would mean she should start hunting when she was in university. She would flirt with the idea in highschool and attend a date every so often to seem approachable, but wouldn’t look seriously until after. She would be going to To-Oh of course, which could present a challenge in and of itself given the likely demographic of career oriented men, but Light was certain in her ability to be convincing and charismatic enough to sway a sucker, or a self-interested homosexual, to her point of view.

At present, Light felt reasonably proud of her forethought in this matter. Happily, her efforts would still advance her plans.

‘The way it all seems to just slot into place so perfectly,’ Light smiled in pleasure. ‘So neatly, so satisfyingly… it’s surely a sign that this is meant to be.’

She was on the right path.

Her experiments with the Death Note had proven largely successful, and she still had a stalker.

Now all she needed was a patsy.

She looked at her phone. It was just a little after nine.

“A bit early…” She smiled and flicked open the phone. “But it should be fine. I think I have a few people in mind.”

“A few people?”

“Yep.”

Light looked up at Ryuk as she held the phone to her ear, her other hand gently twirling the end of her long, thick braid. She widened her eyes just so, peering up at the monster from beneath her lashes as she flashed a coy smile.

“It may be hard to believe but I’m pretty popular, you know.”

Girls didn’t ask boys out on dates. Well, they could, but such a thing could be construed as too forward, too desperate, or even too masculine, to suit Light’s purposes. It was another of those things that didn’t really make sense to her, but that she abided by nonetheless.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t steer someone around to it so they asked her out instead.

Light had chosen carefully.

Yamamoto was handsome enough with tousled dark hair, squared shoulders, a prominent profile, and glasses. Helpfully, he was also taller than Light’s unusual 179 centimeters, clearly gained by way of her father. She wore flats, of course, to maintain this. Wearing high heels as a woman of her height was seen as ‘brave’ and a declaration of confidence - however, Light wanted to seem demure, sweet, and potentially vulnerable for this exploit. Heels were therefore unsuitable, sadly.

His personality was also appropriate, decent even, and he had a very convenient weakness for Light’s eyes.

Sometimes, even a few months in, it galled Light to think in this fashion. Using people’s emotions to further her own gains - it was a disgusting tactic.

But Light had promised herself that she would sacrifice anything she had to for the betterment of the world, even her own morals. This was something she had to do. Looking back on it in ten years, if Yamamoto had the full context of the situation, he would probably be fine with it.

It wasn’t like Yamamoto cared all that deeply about her anyway.

A deep, intimate place inside her clenched and before Light could wonder if anyone truly did, she forced herself to wave.

“Yamamoto! Hello,” She said as she trotted lightly to the bus stop. She gave him an upwards look through her eyelashes, enhanced with a judicious use of mascara and carefully applied falsies. Sweeping her hair behind her ear in a way she knew through long experience and study made it shimmer very nearly gold in this type of light, Light smiled.

“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”

Yamamoto obediently blushed, a crooked grin already on his mouth. He had, Light was pleased to note, made something of an effort in his dress. There were far too many boys out there who thought appropriate date wear included food stains.

It made Light internally shudder. Even if she had been born male, she was certain she’d never allow her standards to sink so low. How anyone could stand wearing that kind of mess - it was just another of those things that baffled her.

It was frustrating that so many of these social standards remained so ridiculous, but it was really just another sign of Light’s intelligence, she supposed. The world didn’t work in the way it ought because the bulk of the people in it were both greedy and short-sighted. Or even downright unintelligent. They were rotting.

Sometimes it was difficult not to begrudge especially the ones who had found themselves in charge enough to write the rules, but Light was here, now.

She would mend the way.

But, in the present, it did please her that Yamamoto hadn’t shown up with grease spots on his shirt.

“No, not at all. Uh. Here.”

He handed her a light pink paper bag with corded straps and a logo on the front that announced itself as some sort of sweets shop. Light took it and looked inside.

“I know you don’t eat many sweets, but you said Sayu likes madelains, right?”

Light was somewhat alarmed to feel a genuine smile steal across her face. At least it only made Yamamoto sparkle at her all the more when she gave it to him with a nod.

“She does, thank you so much.”

To reward his sentimentality, Light shuffled closer and linked her arm through his elbow, pressing in enough that he’d be able to smell her perfume. Subtle with faint traces of caramel, Light didn’t favour scents very much but found that this one's implication suited her colouration.

“She’ll really appreciate these.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Yamamoto rubbed the back of his neck and didn’t pull away. “You. You look really pretty today, Light.”

Light praised her ability to blush on command. “Thank you.”

It was still too early to look at him full on, Light decided, so continued to make do through her bangs and lashes.

“You said on the phone that you were having trouble with English, didn’t you? Maybe while we wait for the bus, I could help you?” She said, allowing herself a faintly mischievous look.

It worked. Immediately diverted from expecting his own compliment, Yamamoto laughed and waved his hand in denial. “No, no, Light, let’s not! I know you’re the top student in Japan, but let’s just hang out for a bit before we gotta deal with school work again, eh? It’s the weekend after all.”

Light breathed an airy chuckle into her knuckle. “Alright, if you say so. But don’t make me say I told you so since it’s due on Monday.”

“Everything is due on Monday. I swear, our teachers want to kill us. And then we still have to go to cram school…” Yamamoto sighed and shook his head. “I dunno. Everyone in our grade is so stressed and none of the adults seem to care. Sometimes I wish things were different.”

Then it seemed Yamamoto realized who he was talking to and he startled with a jerk, pasting on a thin smile that radiated worry as he looked down at her. “Well, everyone except you, Light. You’re as cool as they come!”

“Mmn.”

Light lifted her head, looking up into the blue of the Fall sky. Whether or not he realized it, Yamamoto’s stereotypical woes had really touched upon a lot of what she’d been thinking about these days.

“No,” She decided to say. “No, I wish it was different too.”

Yamamoto’s eyebrows practically kissed his hairline. “Really? You do?”

Light pasted on one of her cutest smiles, and even made sure to bounce so that her hair - loosed from its braid but crimped attractively for it - bounced with her. It was a motion that was designed to be charming but had to be carried off carefully, lest it make her chest bounce as well and distract from her face. Now wasn’t the time or place for that.

“Yes. That’s why I want to become a police officer so badly.”

She diverted her eyes to her shoes. Hm. There was a small scuff on the side of her boot. Unfortunate. “My parents would really rather I didn’t, but.”

Light looked back up at him but this time, looked Yamamoto directly in the eye. “I want to help the world change for the better.”

While this little declaration could potentially tie her to Kira, it was really just reinforcing what people already knew and supposed about her for one and.

Well.

For two, Light wanted to let Yamamoto know that his prayer hadn’t gone unheard.

At the end of the day, she was doing this for the people after all. Light certainly wouldn’t become a teacher, and she obviously wouldn’t be killing teachers who piled on too much homework - the thought was simultaneously ridiculous and a reason why she couldn’t trust the Death Note to people like Yamamoto. But once her rule was assured, once the world was safe from would be killers and rapists and burglers, maybe she could move on to benefit people in different ways. Systemically. There would always be the element who just wanted to watch the world burn, but for those whose actions may not have happened if they’d only had some more support…

Yes. Yes, this was a good idea. After all, if Kiichiro Osoreda had felt safe accessing health services, he may not have turned to marijuana, and therefore wouldn’t have ended up killing two people in order to support his addiction. Perhaps this was a simplistic view but if anything it merited research and studies once the time was right.

Yamamoto, at the end of the day, had committed no crimes. He was an innocent.

And therefore a perfect alibi.

Yamamoto’s eyes were round with awe and admiration behind his glasses. Then he smiled.

“That’s so you, Light.”

Light nudged into him playfully. “Maybe you should become a teacher, and that way we’ll have both spheres covered. We can change the world together!”

Yamamoto laughed. “Maybe you’re right!”

The stalker stepped into the bus shelter beside them. Light briefly gave thought to displaying discomfort at his presence, but just as soon dismissed it. The purpose of this endeavor was to find out the man’s name and affiliation. If he really was law enforcement like Light thought he was, hinting that he’d been tailing her would only make her suspicious to the average person.

Light was fascinating enough to attract stalkers, yes. She’d had a few in her time.

However.

Yes, best to simply do as she had been and continue pretending not to notice him.

The bus turned the corner in the distance and, above, Ryuk began to breathe his odd, raspy laugh. Light was almost tempted to join him.

The simple maneuver of getting on behind Yamamoto ensured Light got the aisle seat. Yamamoto’s chivalrous first instinct had been to usher her on first, but it thankfully didn’t become awkward. Light’s stalker took the seat behind them, as she knew he would.

They filled the time with chatter, low enough to be unobtrusive but present enough to make it look like they were friendly but not so intimate they could spend their time pleasantly in silence, such as the elderly couple ahead of them. Light found herself actually enjoying herself somewhat. Yes, she’d chosen correctly. Yamamoto was not unreasonable.

It was too bad there was no way he’d be getting into To-Oh. Based on what she knew of him and his present behaviour, feeling him out as a potential homemaker may have had potential. Of course, people often changed when they had commitment, sadly.

It would be interesting to see how or if Yamamoto’s behaviour changed in the face of the upcoming trauma.

Light idly began to make a mental checklist of what he might do. He would likely attempt to protect her physically, for instance. His presence in the window seat would make it difficult to attack her pawn. Would he attempt to move her? A sound application of pressure from her pawn would certainly stopper that, should it come to pass…

The drive was peaceful. Sun glowed through the windows and the idle rumble of the engine decorated the low, polite conversation of the handful of people on the board. Looking in the driver’s rear view mirror from the corner of her eye, Light saw even he appeared to be smiling. Behind her, her stalker’s shoulders actually seemed to be relaxed, his eyes closed and a very faint trace of a smile decorating his attractive face.

He looked at peace.

Everybody did.

Ryuk’s laughter and her own building anticipation felt almost cruel but Light couldn’t deny the way her heart rate escalated the closer they got to that one, certain, bus stop.

‘I feel excited,’ Light realized out of the blue.

Yes. This feeling growing in her chest, it wasn’t only anticipation. It was excitement.

She couldn’t remember. The last time she’d felt something like this - she couldn’t remember. Tennis had gotten close until her parents kindly ‘suggested’ she quit to focus on her ‘slipping’ studies in view of highschool entrance exams, but even that, no, even that had nothing on this.

Light couldn’t help but trade a look with Ryuk, his large bulbous eyes lamplights italicizing this peculiar bubbling within her. Together, they smiled.

This, yes. This.

This was certainly interesting.

The bus pulled up to the sidewalk and gently slid to a stop. The doors opened.

Osoreda stepped on board.

‘I hope this entertains you, Ryuk,’ Light thought as she took in her unwitting pawn who would so shortly be dead. ‘As much as it will certainly entertain me.’

Fighting for humanity was so rewarding.

#death note #light yagami #misa amane #death note genderswap #but someone else's au not mine #death note headcanons #death note fic rec

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