She knows herself as Sayu, remembers living a childhood as Sayu, and knows that she loves her brother Light more than anything else in the world.

But she also remembers another life, where she knew herself by another name, remembers living another childhood; a life where she loved no one.

She doesn't know if she is this other person, somehow living in Sayu's body with these stolen memories, or if she is Sayu with memories of this other person's life.

But, she thinks, it doesn't really matter, because she's here now. With Light.

She remembers a story, from this other life, with a character who had her brother's name and the borrowed power of a god of death. She thinks this should bother her, but it doesn't. She knows she could never hate Light.

There is a dark madness within her brother, she can see it even now, years before he find the Shinigami's cursed book. She loves him anyway.

Sometime she looks in the mirror and remembers when she was someone else, watching an older Sayu as she lived, unaware of her brother's growing madness.

She has nightmares, sometimes, of maniacal laughter and red eyes. Then redredredred of her brothers blood as his eyes gleam with madness and his body is riddled with bullets. A boy who seems to be cut from paper, with eyes like drops of ink. He's blank, so very blank and cold like snow, but nowhere near as beautiful. He's dangerous, and she knows that he is the reason that she dreams of her brother's cooling corpse, his face a rigid mask of mindless rage as his hair soaks up the crimson background of his own coagulating blood. His hair is mussed, in a chaotic disarray that Light had never allowed it to fall into in life. She thinks this bothers her even more than all the red of his blood. Because he isn't perfect in death, and that body isn't him anymore. She thinks she hates that corpse even more than she hates the cold pale boy made of paper.

It's blurry, and vague, this other life she remembers living. She thinks she had friends, and she knows she had family, but she can't remember their names, or their faces. She can't remember her own name either, or what she looked liked. She thinks she had black hair, short and spiked with cheap gell that smelled of plastic. But that's it. She tries to be bothered by this; these people were important to her, she tells herself, but in the end it's just so terribly hard to care. She has Light, after all. That's all she's ever needed.

A/N: so I decided to start another. This first chapter is really just some drabbles. I might make it into an actual story later, though.