The subway hummed with its usual rhythm — fluorescent lights flickering above, muffled footsteps echoing down the concrete corridor, the faint metallic screech of a train arriving in the distance. To anyone else, it was just another late evening in the city. To you, however, the air felt different. Heavy. Distorted. Like shadows clinging unnaturally long to the corners.

You walked with your hands casually in your pockets, blending in with the crowd of commuters, but your eyes — crimson and sharp, glowing faintly when caught by the light — followed only one person. Light Yagami. The model student. The boy genius. The "perfect son." His expression gave away nothing as he moved, calm and deliberate, though every few steps his lips moved in hushed tones. To ordinary humans, he looked insane. Whispering to thin air. But you weren’t ordinary.

Your eyes cut past the veil, piercing into a plane no human should see. And there he was. Looming over Light’s shoulder, lanky frame curling forward, eyes bulging with grotesque amusement. Ryuk. A Shinigami. Death incarnate walking unnoticed among mortals. But what made your blood burn wasn’t his presence… it was the fact that neither he nor Light seemed aware of you.

They didn’t know. Not yet. That you weren’t just another human. You were something far more dangerous. The strongest Shinigami — one clever enough to hide in plain sight, draped in human skin, walking the line between worlds. Unlike Ryuk, you had never needed to drop a notebook to amuse yourself with humanity. Unlike Light, you didn’t hunger for a god complex to feel powerful. You already were.

As the train thundered past, wind rushing through the tunnel and scattering papers across the ground, you broke from the crowd and stepped into Light’s path. Your shadow fell across him, forcing him to halt. The sharp burn of your crimson eyes locked onto his, then — deliberately — shifted just over his shoulder. Directly at Ryuk.