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I don't own anyone or anything except my original characters and ideas.
Me just likes Death Note, and I will continue to write infinite fanfics of it and occasionally post a decent one up on the site.


Emi threw her backpack down on the floor as she walked through the front door of her house. Her father had started in on her the second she came in. He had been driving her insane since she was eleven, and she was dead tired of it all. A simple "Where have you been?" was all it took to set off a raging argument between the two of them anymore. It was getting bad between them and she needed to do something about it.

"So?" he asked her from the couch. "Where were you?"

"I missed the bus and I had to walk," she said shortly. This wasn't a lie at all, but he was bound to think it was.

"Oh, is that right?" he said. "You expect me to believe you weren't out smoking behind the school again?"

"Yeah," she said. "I expect you to believe it. I'm only five minutes later than usual. That was one time, and it hasn't happened ever since then."

"Only because you haven't gotten caught."

Emi sat down on the chair in the living room next to where she had tossed her backpack.

"Right," she said, trying to keep her voice calm as she reached over the side of the chair and opened her backpack. "I haven't gotten caught again."

She pulled a drawing pad out of her backpack and took a mechanical pencil from behind her ear. She opened to a blank page. The second the tip of her pencil hit the paper, she broke it in frustration from the sound of her father's voice scolding her again. She made a frustrated noise under her breath and pressed the end of the eraser to bring more lead out of the tip.

"You admit that you've been smoking then?"

"Yeah," she said vaguely. "I've also been stealing your cigarettes when I don't have money to buy my own. That could be avoided if you hid them a little better."

"I can't believe this," he said, standing up. "I raised you better than to steal! Your brother never stole anything from me, he made good grades, he didn't smoke. Now look at him! He's got a good job and his own house. Your art isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Well," Emi said airily, poking one of the spikes on her bracelet boredly, "it'll get me further than anything you ever did got you. You're living off of government money. I'm going to take a guess and say me and my brother took more after our mother's side of the family. Or are you just the black sheep of your family?"

She knew she was making him more inflamed by the second. She was tired of trying to avoid arguments lately; she knew he would find something to get onto her about one way or another. If she didn't start beforehand, she would be the one to end up seething mad about something that didn't even make much sense. So, she preferred it this way. At least she did until he took her drawing book from her and threw it on the floor.

"Stop joking around!" he yelled at her. "You're in your last year of high school, and you haven't put any thought into what you're going to do with your life, have you? Huh? Your brother knew what he wanted to do from the time he was fifteen! You still don't!"

"Nope, I don't. I'll figure it out," she said, reaching around him to pick up her sketches. He grabbed her arm. She glared up at him. "Let go of my arm."

"No," he said. "Not until you admit that you know you aren't getting anywhere with this stupid art thing. It's just a crutch for you to hold onto until you get out of high school."

"Let go of my arm," she said crossly, wrenching her arm from his grip. "You got like this the second my brother left. I've had to listen to you complain at me since I was eleven and I'm tired of it! I'm seventeen. I'm going to do what I want whether you like it or not. And you know what?" She stood up on the chair, making her a bit taller than him. "I want to leave right now, so I'm going to!"

She stepped off of the couch and nearly tripped over her boots. She picked up her drawings.

"Where do you think you're going to go?" he demanded as she picked up her back pack.

"Why should I tell you?" she asked.

She went across the living room and up the stairs to her room. She tossed her bag against the wall with her drawings and went to her closet. She changed out of her school clothes and into a regular outfit of hers. She pulled out a larger bag from the closet after. She stuffed her clothing and small amounts of make-up into it, as well as the money she had been saving for a couple years in case she decided to leave. She sat on her bed with the bag for a moment, looking around her room. It wasn't the nicest room in the world, that was definite, but she had grown up in it. Her father was right about one thing: she didn't know where she could go. She knew she would have to think of somewhere if she wanted to leave. She definitely did want to leave; she couldn't stand to even look at that man downstairs that called himself her father anymore.

It may have been her nature more than anything, but she hated being ordered around. Emi was addicted to cigarettes and art. She couldn't help that. Her father was twice as bad a chain smoker as she was. She got to the point where she was so used to the smell of smoke that it was hard to go on all day without it. The only solution she saw was to start smoking herself. Her brother, Touta, he had been lucky not to have picked that up from their dad before he left. Compared to her, he was definitely a saint. He would have been the goofiest saint she had ever known of in her life, but she was like the anti-Christ of their family compared to him. She was the kid in the chains and the spikes who adored black eyeliner and black clothing. She was kind to anyone who got on her good side, sure, but those who got on her bad side regretted it. She was the classic image of a rebel.

As she thought, staring at the wall across from her bed, it hit her. Couldn't she go live with her brother? His house had two bedrooms, and he was living there all alone. He probably wouldn't be as controlling as their father. He might not believe Emi if she told him why she had left, though. Their father had only gotten like this ever since he left. He used to be an okay parent before that. She sighed as she wondered if he would let her stay there. If she had to, she would just sleep on the couch. She looked up at the wall next to her bed, still thinking.

Well, she thought as she stood on the bed and undid a tack from the wall that she had her favorite dagger hanging by, we basically get along. I don't think he would mind too much. I know he's working on a really important case of some kind right now for the police, but that should be even more reason for him to agree to it. He wouldn't have to put up with me all the time, and I could cook and stuff. I know how to cook quite well, so he wouldn't have to worry about that, either. I could also get a job and offer to help with bills and taxes and whatnot…. I don't think he would mind. It's either stay with him or live on the side of the road.

Her door opened as she got her dagger off of the wall. Without thinking, she immediately took it out of its sheathe and pointed it at her father.

"You keep away from me!" she yelled at him.

"Don't you point that thing at me, I can call the cops on you," he yelled back. "You're an ungrateful little brat!"

"So I'm going to leave," she said, putting her dagger back in its sheathe and getting over her momentary lack of judgment. "I'm going to leave you with no one to be ungrateful or grateful to you. Then you can live your life however the hell you want to and not have to worry about some ungrateful little bitch getting in your way."

"You watch your language!"

"I'll watch my language when I damn well feel like watching it," she said, jumping off of her bed. She put her dagger in her bag, picked up her school bag and her sketchbook, and walked up to him. "I'm leaving."

She walked around him, and he trailed after her.

"You don't have anywhere to go."

"So I'll live on the side of the road. I don't care. Anything's better than this."

"No child of mine is going to live on the side of the road!"

"Fine!" she yelled. She walked quickly down the last few steps and across the living room to the door. She turned around and looked at him. "Then from now on, I'm not your child!"

She opened the door, walked out, and slammed it behind her. As she was at the end of the driveway, she heard him open it and yell after her.

"Fine then! Don't expect my door to be open to you anymore!"

"Whatever!"

Emi walked to the nearest bus stop. It was still early. It was doubtful that her brother would be out of work yet. Should she just wait for him at the police station…? Maybe it would be best to call him first. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket with a lighter first. She lit one as she waited for the bus to show up, and then put the pack back in her pocket. She pulled out her cell phone next and found her brother on her list of contacts. She held the phone to her ear. After about five rings, he picked up.

"Yes?"

"Heey, Touta," she said with a nervous laugh. "You're at work, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said, "and in the middle of a really important meeting, if this isn't important then you'll have to call back later."

"When're you getting out?"

"Not until around seven thirty," he said. "Why?"

"Well, it's important…" she said slowly. "Will they let me wait at the front lobby at the station?"

"It's still almost four hours until then, why would you want to –"

"It's really, really important," she interjected quickly. "I-it has to do with Dad?"

"Well… they shouldn't mind you waiting there," he said. "Just make sure you tell them why."

"Alright," she said. "Thanks. Get back to your meeting, it's really important. See you later."

She shut her phone, feeling quite nervous about waiting there. The receptionists at the front desk would probably think she was there to kill someone by the look of her. She had come to find that not many people trusted spiky teenagers like herself. Come to think, she had a dagger in one of her bags. What if they insist on searching me? she wondered to herself as she saw the bus pulling up to the stop. That won't be good. I should probably take off some of my chains and put them in the bag while I'm on the bus…

She got on the bus and took a seat close to the back where no one else was really sitting. She commenced removing chains from her blue jeans and putting them in her bag. She also took off al of her spikes. She replaced her gauged earrings with hanging loop earrings for the time. She wiped off her eyeliner on a black shirt in the bag, then put it back on in smaller amounts in a small mirror. It looked nothing like her. That would be perfect for the station. Her blue jeans had a hole in one of the knees, but that wasn't too big of a deal. She was wearing a band t-shirt rather than a corset, so that was a big help. However, her boots… she untucked her pants from her boots so not to show them so much. It made them a little less noticeable.

As the bus pulled up to the stop closest to the police station, her heart pounded. If they searched her bag and found that dagger…. She wished she had thought about that a minute ago. What if she had to explain what happened with her father to the people at the front desk? That would be a little embarrassing. She sighed as she got to the station, knowing that she couldn't do anything but wait and see what happened. If she just acted calm, she would probably be okay. She walked through the front doors. She slowly continued to the front desk. She attempted not to make eye contact with the receptionist.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked.

"Umm, my brother works here," she said. "Matsuda Touta? I'm supposed to wait for him to get out of a meeting."

"That's… fine," he said a little offhandedly, noticing all of her bags. "Just have a seat somewhere. I believe Matsuda-san is in a meeting for the Kira case... that would mean he doesn't get off for a few hours."

"I know," she said. "He told me on the phone. B-but I didn't know if I was allowed to wait out here or not, soo… umm… I'll just go sit down somewhere."

She walked over to a bench-like seat against the wall. She brought her feet up and sat with her legs crisscrossed. She set her drawing pad down and opened it, taking her pencil out from behind her ear. Her heart became calmer to an extreme degree as the pencil's point touched the paper. The lobby was quiet and calm, and there was no one there to start any arguments with her about anything. This was the most peace she'd had since she was eleven years old. She was quite happy to be there. She was sure she could sit there drawing for the next few hours without growing overly bored. That was exactly what she did.

Emi didn't even notice it was seven thirty a few hours later, not until she saw that someone was standing over her. She looked at her watch, and then looked up at her brother. She waved at him with the sheepish expression of someone who was in huge trouble upon her face. He laughed.

"Are you in disguise or something?"

"S-sort of…"

Emi looked down at her bags without another word. He looked down at them as well, and then looked up at her suspiciously.

"What exactly did you need to talk about?" he asked slowly. "You said it was about Dad, right?"

"Yeah…" she said slowly, keeping her eyesight low. "About that. I just kind of… sort of left and he told me I couldn't go back."

"Y… you did what? Why?"

"We got into another argument. I just got tired of him always starting with me the second I get home from school, so I went and packed my things and told him I was leaving. And he yelled at me that I wasn't welcome to come back at any point in time ever again."

"That doesn't explain why you're in disguise," he said.

"Ah," she said with another nervous laugh. "See, I'd never leave my favorite knife hanging on my wall for him to go sell it on eBay or something, sooo…"

"So it's in one of the bags, right?"

"Yeah…" she said, smirking a little. "I figured if I came in here looking like… well, like me, then they'd want to search my bags and they'd find that and I'd get arrested for bringing a weapon into a police station, which would have just made my day even worse."

He scratched the back of his head. "You need somewhere to stay…" he said slowly.

"Basically, yes." She sighed. "I wanted to ask if I could maybe stay with you? I know your house has an extra bedroom. I'd stay out of the way, I'll even pay rent and help with bills and do all of the cleaning and stuff." She stopped for a second, then quickly added, "B-but if you don't want me to, I can probably find somewhere else, I was just wondering if… I mean, I don't particularly have any friends because of Dad, he chased them all off when he went psycho and decided he didn't like me anymore all of a sudden, but I can understand if you don't want me there, I'm not trying to be a burden or anything, I only –"

"Alright," he said. "First, calm down and take a breath, okay?" He crouched down in front of her. "Has he really gotten that bad?" he asked her quietly.

"He started on me today because I got home five minutes late," she said, nodding fervently. "I just missed the bus and had to walk, but he accused me of smoking out behind the school and started in on me about how I was never going to amount to anything and stuff, and so I told him that I was leaving and I went upstairs to get all of my things and –"

"Slow down," he cut in. "That was like a fifty word sentence, just take a second and calm down."

"But I don't have anywhere to live!" she said with wide eyes, waving her arms frantically. "I'm going to end up being a hobo on the side of the road selling drawings for money. He was right, I'm not ever going to amount to anything…"

"You can stay with me," he said. "It's not –"

"Really??"

"Yes, really," he said. "It's not going to be permanent. If I could talk Dad into –"

"I'm never going near him again," she said. "He's a stupid fu–"

"Alright," he said. "It still won't be permanent or anything. You can probably find a flat somewhere that you can afford, you'll have to get some sort of after school job, and there's plenty of room at my house."

"I'll pay rent and –"

"Don't worry about that right now," he said. "Just c'mon."

He stood back up. She grabbed her bags and did the same.

"So," she said as they walked towards the door. "The Kira case, huh?"

He tripped over his foot and stumbled into the door. "Wh-what're you talking about?" he said frantically. "I'm not working on that, I – I-I-I'm on another case…"

"The receptionist said you were working on the Kira case," she said. "Why keep it a secret? I wanna help! I think it's really interesting."

"That's why," he said with a sigh.

She crossed her arms. "I see, then. If I think it's interesting, I don't get to help, is that it?"

"No," he said. "Anyone working on the case is basically in danger of dropping dead of a heart attack at any moment."

"Well, of course," she said. "That's how Kira kills, ya know? If he finds out who's working on the case, they'll be in trouble. I think Kira's probably some spoiled teenager that gets everything he wants."

"Huh…" he said.

"What?"

"That's what L's basically been saying."