The pain didn't come immediately.
It was strange, how death crept in like a whisper. There were no grand revelations, no flashes of his life before his eyes.
Just a long silence which felt cold and slow.
Light Yagami lay still, the warehouse around him dim and blurred, his body twisted on the ground where he had fallen.
The moment replayed in fragments... Mikami's betrayal, Near's voice echoing in triumph, the flash of betrayal cutting deeper than the bullets themselves.
He could still hear Ryuk's voice, casual as ever, dispassionate, hovering like the tolling of a bell above his fading consciousness.
"It's been fun, Light... but I told you. When your time comes, I write your name."
He hadn't lied.
Light felt his breath hitch as something inside his chest cracked.
Not physically. He had already lost too much blood for that to matter. Rather, it was something deeper.
The recognition of failure. Of everything collapsing. Every perfect move unraveled. Every godlike illusion shattered in the most humiliating, irreversible way.
"No... I'm not... done..."
His fingers twitched as he gazed weakly into the distance.
But the darkness finally came.
It swallowed him, not like a void, but like a memory being erased.
And then suddenly he opened his eyes.
Light blinked.
He was no longer on the cold warehouse floor.
He was lying on smooth, obsidian ground. It looked glossy and felt unnaturally warm.
Above him stretched a sky the color of dried blood, smeared with low-hanging clouds that seemed too close, like they would fall on him if he breathed too hard.
He sat up slowly.
His white shirt was still as plain as ever. There was no gunshot, or anyone around him. Light was puzzled.
He reached into his coat pocket instinctively, and his fingers closed around something familiar.
He pulled it out.
The Death Note.
It still looked pristine.
Its weight was unchanged, but the air around it felt colder the moment it was exposed. Light stared at it for several long seconds before flipping it open.
Everything was still intact the way it had previously been. The rules, the pages, even the names he had written down.
He froze.
And in the same breath, he remembered everything that had happened.
His hand trembled slightly as he ran his fingers along the rough surface of the Death Note.
The same smell of city smog leaking in through the vents entered his nose, bringing him back from his daze.
His wristwatch blinked softly, causing him to look down at it.
11:39 a.m.
He stared at the time as if it were a riddle.
And then, slowly, realization dawned.
This wasn't a hallucination, nor was it some fake illusion.
He had been pulled back to the past. Exactly 24 hours before he died.
"Mikami…"
He whispered the name like a curse.
It all came crashing back.
The mistake. Mikami's unauthorized action.
The pre-written names. Near's setup. The betrayal.
Light clenched his jaw.
It hadn't been Near's intelligence that won. Instead, it was Mikami's predictability.
That was what ruined everything. That was what let Near prepare a fake notebook and spring the trap.
He had 24 hours to resolve the crisis.
If he could resolve this challenge on his path to becoming the god of the new world, then he would have a far smoother journey.
He exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing.
He knew everything now. Every word Near would say. Every move Aizawa and Matsuda would make. The expressions they would wear and the order in which they would turn on him.
And now, he had time to burn it all down.
Light leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes flickering with ruthless calculation.
He needed to move carefully.
If he panicked, if he overcorrected, it would raise suspicion.
But if he did nothing, the same chain of events would play out again, and this time, there would be no escape.
He didn't know the reason for his resurrection, but he understood that there might possibly never be a second chance for that.
He reached out and opened the Death Note.
His eyes sharpened.
First step: Mikami.
He needed to intercept him before he made the fatal mistake.
That was the center of the trap Near set.
Mikami had gone to the bank too early, written names in a real notebook, and exposed their entire strategy.
If Light could divert that, in essence, rewrite that one move, then the entire endgame would crumble.
But he couldn't confront Mikami directly.
That would be suspicious.
No.
He would need subtlety.
He would need a new plan, one that threaded through the events Near was preparing without making a sound.
Because Near would still be watching.
Still confident. Still calculating. And definitely still waiting for his every move.
"You think you've already won," Light sneered, and his expression flashed with ruthlessness, coldness, and countless other emotions.
He turned to a blank page on the Death Note. His pen hovered above it as he pondered on what to do.
He didn't need to act yet. Rather, he needed information.
How early could he shift the pieces before suspicion followed?
He had to play his role exactly as he had before. The same tone, same expressions, and same acting. But under the surface, his every step would be reversed.
In this version of the story, he would be the one leading Near by the nose.
The irony almost made him smile.
He glanced at the time again.
11:41 a.m.
If memory served, Mikami would visit the bank around 1:00 p.m., and that was when the deviation occurred.
He had less than two hours to intercept or reroute him.