This story is based off of the manga version of Death Note, which (including time) has some slight alterations compared to the anime version. Therefore, with that being said, this takes place after Death Note's conclusion. Also, this story has nothing nor anything in major or even relative comparison to any "Life Note" stories. Lastly, the rating of this story may go up due to some more "intimate" subjects and language.

- The Materialist

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DEATH NOTE: HARBINGER OF DEATH

By The Materialist

"Death is when the monsters get you."

- STEPHEN KING, Salem's Lot

I

His weapon was his pen. His strength was his notebook. His shield was his own will. He could take one glance at Death, slap it in the face, and Death would not slap back. His dog was Death, and it was his best friend. He was once Kira... L... Light Yagami... the Killer of Men, the Deceiver of Women, and, once, the God of the New World. Now he is dead, and his legacy has been banished... forever...?

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Tuesday, December 25, 2012 2:15 AM

Snow fell quietly in the early morning sky. The Wammy House was just as silent. The orphans were all in bed, sleeping the morning away in waiting for Christmas Day where they would see their presents all aligned under the Christmas Tree in the study room down the hall. Not a one of them rustled in their soft, white beds. Most of them may not have believed in Santa Claus, but they still believed in the spirit of Christmas. It was a time of happiness and generosity that had been known for many generations past. Although they did not have parents, they did have each other. Even the naughtier of the children believed in this aspect. Nonetheless, the excitement would have to wait until morning. One boy, however, could not wait... or could it have been that he couldn't simply sleep?

A dark-haired boy sat at the window in his white, blue-stripped pajamas hugging his knees to his chest. His wide, red eyes watched the black sky above as the snow fell gently onto the blankets that had been passed on the previous days. The uneven, white streaks in his wild, black hair shimmered in the darkness of the room. He blinked curiously as a snowflake touched the window before him and immediately melted. He pressed his hand against the window where the snowflake melted. After a moment, he closed his eyes and breathed a sigh as he rested his forehand against his knees. There was a single, long silence.

"Frost, what are you doing?" a voice whispered in a tired manner from the bed to the left of the window the boy sat at.

The dark-haired boy looked up slightly from his knees with a red glint in his eyes, "Good morning, Arc," he mumbled darkly back.

"Can't sleep?" Arc asked sleepily with a pillow covering his eyes and his blanket covering his entire body except for his face.

"I don't sleep," Frost answered in the same dark tone, but the glint in his red eyes vanished as he put his head back to his knees.

Arc rustled back to sleep with his pillow over his eyes. Frost, the boy by the window, lifted his pale head and continued to watch the snow. The red glint in his crimson eyes continued to shine brightly. He slowly brought a finger up to the window and began to write a name in the collected condensation.

N-E-A-R

Frost brought down his finger and starred at the name for a moment. Then he brought his head back down to his knees and looked away from the name. Frost took his sleeve and began to wipe away the name. Who are you, Near? he thought. Lost in thought, Frost took his right thumb and began to chew at his fingernail.

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Tuesday, December 25, 2012 5:40 AM

It was still dark at the Wammy House. The sun had not nearly risen yet, and many of the orphans were still asleep. Despite this, Frost was still awake. He was in the study wrapping presents with an elderly man in a rich-looking, brown robe. This elderly man was Avery Peterson, III, the headmaster of the Wammy House after the previous headmaster.

Mr. Peterson loved children and wished only for their happiness. He never hurt them in anyway nor would he ever want to. Frost was like a son to Mr. Peterson, as Frost had never caused any trouble and was always more than willing to help others. He was highly friendly, but he never fussed nor messed around. Frost was quiet and kept to himself when he was not helping anyone. He reminded Mr. Peterson of himself when he was young, and this was why he favored him most of all.

"I want to thank you again, Frost, for helping me take care of the children's presents," Mr. Peterson mentioned gratefully as he finished wrapping one of the more average-sized presents.

"Thank you, Mr. Avery, but there is no need. This what I do," Frost mumbled in thanks as he just taped down the last fold of wrapping paper for a rather large box.

Mr. Peterson smiled as he grabbed another present from the pile next to them, "You know, L would be proud of you. I only knew him for a short time, but when I did, he was about your age."

Frost's red eyes glowed at the name of L, but he didn't let the headmaster see his expression, so he closed his eyes and smiled, "So, what about the current L." He continued wrapping presents.

"Oh, I didn't know much about him, but he, too, left the orphanage at about your age. He was more intelligent than L, but he didn't have many friends and wasn't as kind as him. Nonetheless, he was a bright boy," Mr. Peterson answered.

Frost opened his eyes, but avoided looking at the headmaster, "What was his name?" he asked politely.

Mr. Peterson stopped for a second and looked up at the ceiling, "Hmm... I believe they called him... Near. Yes, I believe that was it."

Frost didn't say anything more after that. He did not know much about this Near, but he certainly recognized the name from somewhere. Why do I know that name? I never met him, so how could... maybe..., he began to have suspicions, but he avoided thinking much about it. No, it's probably simply coincidence, he convinced himself.

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Tuesday, December 25, 2012 10:20 AM

Frost sat outside on the snow-covered steps of the Wammy House while the other orphans were at play. He watched then with his head in his hands. Frost always wore his white coat with a large, fur-trimmed hood to protect him from the bright light that emanated from the sun, even on days when the sun was hidden in the clouds. It couldn't be bulky either because he had to wear it whenever he went outside. Other than that, he usually wore any sort of jeans he could find and a pair of white sneakers that looked like that had chewed up and spat out. His usual attire did not matter to him much.

As he watched the children, something in the sky caught his eye. Something white was falling from the sky. Had none of the other orphans noticed this falling object? It did not appear to be snow, as it looked much larger. The objects smacked the cold blanket of snow with a crack. Frost was far too curious to not find out what this object was. He looked at the other children, but they didn't seem to notice it.

The object seemed to glow on the blanket of snow. Frost picked it up to get a better look. But to his surprise, it was none other than a notebook. A white notebook had fallen from the sky? He looked up at the gray, cloudy sky once again, and then back to the thin notebook in his pale hand.

"Death Note," he read the black lettering in confusion, "as in... a 'notebook of death'?" Frost looked up at the sky for one more look, but there was nothing. He flipped open the front page of the notebook gently.

--

This Death Note is able to prevent the deaths of those who are to be murdered by writing their name in the contents of this notebook.