Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mello was floating in a haze of pain and confusion. He clutched at his chest desperately, breath coming out in wheezing gasps. He curled in on himself in the hopes that it would fix something. It didn’t. 

Even with his eyes closed, he could see the foggy glass of the car windshield, the bricks of the church around him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, dying in a place like this. Mello stretched his hand towards the window, reaching for something. His fingers barely brushed against it, smearing the condensation, before another wave of pain overtook him.

This was it. His heart beat once, twice, and then–

And then–

Mello blinked awake. What? He sat up slowly, rubbing at his chest. The sharp ache had faded, leaving behind only a vague memory of pain. Had he just… died? That seemed to be true, but something wasn’t adding up. It took Mello’s sleep-addled brain a few minutes to catch up. Wait – why was Heaven his old room at Wammy’s house?

Someone knocked at his door. Mello made a half-aborted motion to open it before pausing, unsure of what to do. Was he about to meet an angel?

“Hey,” a familiar voice hissed out. “Mello, wake up!”

This was something he hadn’t expected. “Matt?” he whispered, struggling past the sudden lump in his throat. 

The door creaked open and his friend peeked his head in. “Oh, so you are awake,” He grinned. “I haven’t seen you all day! Have you just been moping around in here?”

Before Mello even realized what he was doing, he had pulled Matt into a tight hug.

Matt’s eyes widened but he accepted the contact (albeit with a touch of concern). “What’s wrong? Did Near do something again?”

Mello pulled back slightly, ignoring the question in favor of drinking in Matt’s appearance. 

The other boy looked to be around 13 or 14, much younger than Mello had expected. There was no cigarette in his hands, no goggles on his face. God, Mello had missed him.

Matt’s frown deepened at Mello’s silence. “You look like shit.” He elbowed Mello’s side. “Are you good?”

“Are we… dead?” Mello’s voice was uncharacteristically small.

Matt suddenly looked alarmed. “That must have been one hell of a nightmare, huh,” he joked half-heartedly, looking at Mello with sharp eyes. He pressed the back of his hand to Mello’s forehead. The other boy just leaned into the touch, closing his eyes.

Matt felt… warm. Alive. But that was impossible. Wasn’t it? Mello wasn’t sure anymore.

“-bit of a fever,” Matt was saying. “I should go get Roger-”

“No,” Mello murmured. “Just stay. Talk with me.”

Matt’s lips pursed but he nodded. “Alright, but we’re sitting down.” He led Mello over to the bed, propping him up against the headboard. “Did you see what Linda did today?” he quickly changed the subject. 

Mello could recognize the beginnings of a rambling story. He was fairly certain that if he were paying attention, he would be dying of laughter right now. Unfortunately, he had more pressing matters to think about. Namely, what the hell was going on .

This felt real enough, but at the same time, there was something so dreamlike about what was happening. Mello just couldn’t trust that this was real.

What if he was looking at this the wrong way? What if this was real, but his memories weren’t? Mello breathed in through his teeth. That was an idea. He had (apparently) just been sleeping. Maybe… everything he had learned about Kira and Japan and Yagami Light had all been figments of his imagination, stemming from a dream. Mello hoped so, with a desperation he didn’t expect.

“And then she tells Janus! Like a madwoman!” Matt gestured, almost hitting Mello in the face. Despite how energetic the boy was, Matt’s voice soothed Mello, lulling him into a daze. He fought to suppress a yawn.

Focus! he thought to himself.

Could it have been a dream? But… Mello held his right hand over his heart, pressing down on his chest. His pulse thrummed in his ears: ba-dump, ba-dump . He remembered how it felt to have that beat slow to a halt, how his life slowly faded away. Mello knew, without even needing to think about it, that he had really died.

The memories felt wrong in his head and Mello was reluctant to dwell on them any longer. No human was meant to hold those experiences and survive. Did that mean that Mello was betraying the natural order of life? He shifted uncomfortably at the thought.

Matt, the (literal) godsend that he was, wrapped his arm around Mello’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. He slumped back, almost hitting his head on the headboard. 

It was getting harder and harder to force his eyelids to stay open, and Mello was keenly aware of how his reasoning power was fading. He wouldn’t be useful for much longer.

The facts were this: Mello was most probably safe and alive again. Whether it was a miracle or just an accident, he had enough time to stop his life from going to shit. So, it would be ok if he rested his eyes for a second, right?

Past blurred with the present as Mello inched closer and closer to the precipice of sleep. He had to do something, didn’t he? He had to get some information from Takeda Kiyomi…

“— and then Roger goes ‘I said paint the fridge not fridge the paint!’” Matt burst out into laughter, folding in on himself. “Did you get it? He—“

Matt, Mello thought, content in his exhaustion. I’m… so happy I’m back…

And with that, he was sound asleep.

Chapter Text

Mello awoke for a second time in his bed in Wammy’s, much less groggy yet just as confused.

In the light of day, a few things seemed clearer. 

For one, it was more and more apparent that this was real – that Mello was actually back in the past. He pinched his thigh hard, as if to prove it to himself. Ow . Maybe not his best idea, he thought as he rubbed the red mark.

Unfortunately, his return to the past meant a return to his teenage (probably 13? 14? year old) body. This was by far the worst part of this entire thing. Mello was about a foot shorter and a few pounds scrawnier than he expected, which threw him off as he paced around his room. But more importantly– he touched his smooth, unscarred cheek – he was unintimidating . 

This was unbelievably annoying to Mello. He wasn’t a particularly frightening-looking person, even as a 19-year-old, but at least he had the strength to back that up. Now, he was going to have to work his way back to his former standing when he should be spending his time preparing for Kira.

Kira. Light Yagami. The man who ruined the world. The man who killed L.

His hands curled into a tight fist, nails biting into his palms. It didn’t matter how impossible it seemed, Mello would stop Kira, once and for all. And this time, it wasn’t for Near, or L, or the successor contest; it was for everything.

A knock sounded on the door, making Mello jump. In his dramatic fervor, he had completely forgotten about the other part of being in the past: being back at Wammy’s.

“You feeling better, Mells? Want to grab some breakfast?”

Fuck. Mello tried not to panic, only mostly succeeding. “Uh,” he said eloquently. 

See, the problem was that Mello really, really wanted to. It had been a long time since he was at Wammy’s and, although the kids here got on his nerves like nobody else could, they were still his family and friends. He missed them, as embarrassing as it was to admit.

But, Mello hadn’t survived 5 years in the Mafia by being sappy. If he wanted to make a head start on the Kira case, he had to get the information he needed. 

With a sense of finality, Mello replied with a simple “nah, I’m not that hungry.”

Silence for a second. “Alright. But-- I better see you in class, then.” Matt sounded disappointed, but not surprised.

“Yeah,” Mello dismissed. “I’ll be fine. Say hi to everyone for me.”

After a moment, he heard Matt walk down the hallway, footsteps accompanied by the chimes of his GameBoy.

Mello just stood there, tormented by conflicting emotions. This was the right choice, he half-heartedly convince himself. He had absolutely no clue how to act as a 14 year old and would probably bring more suspicion down on himself. He tried to remember how he felt at that age, but all he could recall was an indiscriminate anger. 

He vaguely wondered what Matt thought of his odd behavior. Whether he was concerned for him. Whether Mello deserved that concern. (Had he really asked Matt if they were dead last night? Mello cringed).

Mello would come back to Wammy’s after this all was over and finally live out his teenage years in a (semi) normal manner, he promised himself. 

But, until then, he had a lot of work to do. 

Mello absent-mindedly brushed a hand through his hair before grimacing at the oily texture. Maybe he could spare a few minutes for a shower first…

Freshly scrubbed clean, Mello began putting his plan into action. His first step: trespassing.

Breaking into Roger’s office wasn’t as difficult as most students thought. During his first time around, Mello had ended up becoming pretty good at it (for some reason, Roger kept confiscating his chocolate and knives!). He had done it hundreds of times, just him and Matt– 

A pang of loneliness. Mello tried not to dwell it. He had been alone for the past 5 years, what did he care? , he told himself.

With a few quick twists and a bit of work, Mello picked the lock. He turned the knob to the precise angle (enough to open the door but not enough to set off the alarms) and slipped into the office. 

Simple. Unfortunately, it was all uphill from here.

See, at Wammy’s, kids didn’t really have an “allowance” since the orphanage provided for all of their needs. Anybody who wanted extra pocket money would either have good enough grades that they could just ask (which was usually the case for Mello) or would have to do chores in exchange. 

Neither option would give Mello the kind of money he needed. So, he had to find his own way to access it.

Mello settled into Roger’s chair, unable to stop a wry smile from coming to his lips. It felt good to be on this side of the desk for once. 

But, his satisfaction melted as he began typing. Mello had a cursory understanding of hacking thanks to Matt, but he wasn’t particularly good at it. And he was quickly figuring out that Roger had put a lot of safeguards into place. 

This wasn’t an elegant job. Mello knew he was leaving behind all sorts of breadcrumbs, but he just hoped he’d be far enough away to escape punishment until he returned. 

Honestly, his plan was risky. If Mello was caught, he would most certainly be placed under house arrest. Even if he wasn’t grounded, he would be watched so closely that it would be impossible to sneak out to town. This was his only chance to go to Japan. And his code just wouldn’t work !

Time was valuable here. Mello’s biggest mistake last time was preparing for 5 years. No matter how much power he accumulated, it stood no chance against the Death Note. The only thing that the extra time had done was cement Kira’s regime. Even now, Mello was certain that Kira’s plans were already starting to be put in place.

There was little more than half a year before Roger and L’s deaths. Mello had to stop Kira before then.

Distracted by his plotting, Mello mistyped a key command. A popup of a cartoonish-looking L appeared with a text bubble saying “too slow!”. What?

The screen turned black and, to Mello’s horror, opened to the very first screen. He was back at the start.

“…” Mello’s face turned bright red and he clenched his hands into fists, barely restraining himself from hitting the computer. Instead, he turned and punched the back chair. Pain burst across his knuckles and Mello immediately regretted it.

He was going to kill someone! Fuck!

After a solid bout of internal cursing, Mello had calmed down enough to attempt to code again.

This was torture, he thought to himself. Why didn’t he just go back to his Mafia contacts? It would have definitely taken longer and been so much more work, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with this.

Minutes went by as Mello made slow but steady progress. He glanced at the clock, beginning to get concerned. Classes were beginning to wind down. How long did he have until Roger returned? 

Not long enough. 

Mello began frantically typing, giving up on any sort of tricks in favor of brute-forcing it.

Just as he was about to accept his losses for the day, something gave way and he was let into his account. Finally! He grinned widely. 

Even as a child, Mello had a surprising amount of foresight. He’d set up a dummy account a few years prior just in case. It took him only a few minutes to redirect his money and buy a plane ticket.

With a furtive glance at the door, Mello logged out, feeling satisfied at his abilities. It had taken him a lot longer than he would have preferred (and his code was shitty enough that it would probably make at least one teacher cry), but it had worked!

With an extra pep in his step, Mello snuck out of the office, heading straight back to his room. He had a bag to pack and a flight to catch!

A figure waited in the shadows, watching as Mello turned the corner. Once Mello had left his field of vision, the boy entered the office, quickly pulling up the files that Mello had closed.

He sighed, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “Dear Mello, what are you up to now?”

Chapter Text

Mello was not a fan of airports.

Don’t get him wrong – he wasn’t a pussy like Near, who was too afraid to get on a plane by himself. He just didn’t like airports.

The problem was, Mello thought as he shouldered his way past a gaggle of drunk college students, that there were just too many people around. He was too exposed, too vulnerable.

It didn’t help that people kept noticing him. The combination of his shoulder-length hair and baby-face meant that security kept stopping him and asking where his parents were (coincidentally, they kept calling him a girl. Was it his fault that he had a sense of style?). Even the gate attendant gave him a curious stare as he handed her his ticket. 

The irritation was beginning to bubble over, but Mello restrained himself from lashing out. Instead, he gave her a sidelong glance, eyes narrowed and lips curled. Upon seeing the look on his face, the attendant let him onto the plane with no further questions.

Just when he thought he was safe, seated comfortably in his seat and listening to music on his iPod mini, someone tapped him on the shoulder. It took all of Mello’s effort to not flinch. He took out an earbud and glared at the flight attendant kneeling in the aisle.

She was perfectly unfazed by his bad mood. The woman had probably witnessed her fair share of grumpy teenagers, which soured Mello’s mood even more. He wasn’t a child , to try and pacify. He was stone cold, a killer–

“Hey there sweetie,” she cooed in a sickly sweet tone. Mello grimaced. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re sitting here on your own. You doing ok?”

“I’m fine,” he crossed his arms, tucking his clenched hands away from sight.

Unfortunately, she kept on talking. “Awh, alright, just let me know if that changes. Flying is scary, especially on a long flight like this. Your parents must be proud of you for going to Japan all by yourself.” At that, she put a comforting hand on his arm.

Mello’s eye twitched. Oh, how he wished that it wasn’t “against airport security” and “a public threat of terrorism” to carry guns in a plane.

“Listen, lady,” he hissed, “I’ve been through more than you could ever imagine. I have countless sins on my name and the fate of the world on my hands. So stop bothering me , got it?” He paused, before saying coldly: “And my parents were murdered when I was 6.”

She had gone completely silent during his tirade, her smile growing stiff and stretched at the corners. “I, uh, have to check on the other passengers,” she pulled her hand back, stood up, and rushed down the aisle.

Mello watched her scurry away, expression blank. After a moment, he put his headphones back in, closing his eyes.

It had been years since anyone had been that patronizing to him. Everyone at Whammy’s treated Mello like an adult. Even when he’d run away to the mafia, people accepted that he was dangerous. 

There was nothing Mello hated more than condescension. He knew that he wasn’t as good as Near or L, but he had kicked and fought his way to being a successor. Mello had spent his life working to be recognized, to be seen as great, for once. 

And nobody – not Kira or Near or that stupid flight attendant – was allowed to make him feel inferior. 

The plane rumbled to life, moving down the runway. Mello was finally on his way to Japan. For better or worse, it was too late to stop him now. 

It was a cheering thought and helped calm him down a little. With smuggled chocolate in hand, Mello settled in for the long plane ride.

Unfortunately, when Mello finally arrived in Japan, he realized he’d made some mistakes. Mello had allocated most of his budget for airplane tickets and weapons bribes… but had completely forgotten to book a hotel.

In his defense, he had only spent a few hours planning (something like the greater part of an afternoon). He was used to acting on the fly and hadn’t really thought anything of it. But now he had to face the consequences of his actions.

Mello groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. Why didn’t he just take more money out of his accounts! He had initially thought that taking a small amount would be less suspicious, but he was so exhausted that he was beginning to lose faith in his logic. For all he knew, Roger had immediately found out everything. And now Mello was here, starving and exhausted with around $40 to his name. Great. He could probably get a night at a hotel and a killer bowl of ramen for that, but not much else.

Maybe Mello could just forgo eating for a while. If he killed Kira as quickly as possible, he would probably be ok. How long did someone take to starve to death? Like a month? If he rationed out his chocolate bars carefully…

Ugh! He couldn’t bear the thought. Right now, the only thing that Mello could do was drag himself to the closest, shittiest motel he could find.

Mello quickly paid for his room, unable to suppress a sour expression at seeing his money disappear into the receptionist’s hands. He walked to his bed as quickly as he could, already half asleep, and flopped facedown on it. His suitcase remained in the middle of the room, the perfect late-night tripping hazard.

With that, Mello was out like a light.