Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to its rightful owners.

Author's Note: There may be inaccuracy within this fanfiction because this is a scrapped and abandoned piece of work initially for a school piece. Plus, I manipulated it to suit the grade criteria (to some extent, this is scrapped, after all).

I have no use for it and cannot be bothered to even tweak it; I figured to just post it here.

Enjoy, if you will.

Death Note: Notes

2003

First page , number one: "The human whose name is written in this note shall die." It's the very first rule written in the book.

As if the existence of chain letters already pushed the naïve, the paranoid and the emotionally supersensitive to their edge. Humans are rotten, to haunt their own species with the inevitable fear that they all share… the sick humour of this generation. Raito had said so.

Like the rest of society, he remained indifferent. The selfish thought of 'it doesn't concern me' is a modern human's method of survival – their isolation from others; it demonstrates the mutual fear between humans. He was nurtured to live like this religiously. But he longed to rebel. Raito had said so.

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Number six: "The note shall become the property of the human world once it touches the ground in the human world."

Boredom.

With "Death" engraved on its cover, the notebook lay over his student textbooks . His desk lamp illuminated over its black covers so, of course, he couldn't just disregard such thing. Though, he couldn't bear to bathe it under the shadows either.

… Raito turned the lock on the door.

A prank. It's merely modern day joke. Who would sacrifice so much of their time of day to conjure an object with a purpose of wishing upon one's death? Oh, the sick humour of this generation.

… It won't kill to try…

To a page, he turned. The miniscule possibility of the notebook demonstrating its ridiculous legitimacy is a thought to hesitate for. For a reminder: what is murder ? It's not to wish upon one's death, is it not? It is an act, whether it is to spill blood, constrict the soul, or inflict internal pain …

Consequently, through the television, the reporter informs live from the television: Kurou Otoharada – terrorising eight hostages in a nursery school. The police refuse to advance; lives were too unripe, too delicate, too early to drop.

Now, no one would grieve for his absence. He's caused grieve himself, he's become a threat and threats are to be eliminated for the benefit of what justice hold dear. His elimination's only consequence is a minor decrease in population – a minor decrease of evil in this rotten world.

Raito hovered his pen under his gaze and scratched and inked "Kurou Otoharada" onto a clear page under his shadow.

If the book can grant what it claims then this is Raito's act for humanity – the ends should justify the means.

Number ten: "The person in possession of the Death Note is possessed by a god of death, its original owner, until they die."

"Looks like you're enjoying it."

Number eleven: "If a human uses the note, a god of death usually appears in front of him her within 39 days after he she uses the note."

He twisted, tumbled, and there's quite a tremble, if you should add . Before him slouched, humanoid in form yet monstrous is what showed in his grey skin. Along his collarbone stitched his bug-eyed head to his raven-like and skeletal body of black cloth. The young man swallowed in its large physique, before clutching onto the nearby chair while delicately clasping the godforsaken book.

"I'm not surprised – in fact, I've been waiting for you," countered the human.

Oh? The death god's permanent grin stretched.

Quickly, he flipped through the pages like shuffling of cards and stretched out a page, a page of names.

"I'm prepared."

Japanese characters line by line in a wondrous beauty of chaos, and the spaces… as if the writing utensil devoured them with utmost greed! Names, names… It trailed on to the next page, after another; the lines darkening as you indulge further. Names, names and names – all in five days. Who should be more surprised of whom?

"I've used the book. Now, what happens to me? Is my soul going to be taken?" Raito's voice was firm.

"I won't do anything to you…"

Number eight: "The human who uses this note can neither go to Heaven nor Hell ."

"… But note that I will be the one that will be writing your name."

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Raito locked the door. He finished dinner early, seven-thirty in the evening, the news was about to begin. There were daily deeds to be done – hell to feed.

"Thanks for the apples, Raito."

Raito turned on his television.

"I will catch 'Kira' at any cost," Lind. L. Tailor, the man who spoke, is his name. Apparently, he is a well-renowned detective. "To Kira… What you're doing is evil."

Like a sharp tug of a string on a toy, Raito stood stiff and unbalanced. Evil? Him? He slid into his desk. How dare he accuse him? He saved those in need! Those who begged for god's help, he answered! Raito shuffle through the Death Note's pages. To oppose of his right-doing should be pointed for wrong-doing – it's logic. Lind L. Tailor deserves punishment for this antagonism . Lind L. Tailor will die .

And, Lind L. Tailor was a puppet. A criminal, to be precise, due for execution.

Raito was fixated on the screen that glowed white with an 'L' in Cloister Black font. L spoke directly to Kira – to Raito – and Kira responded.

I will hunt you down and destroy you. For I am justice.

It's a game of hide and seek.

2010

" Help me , Ryuk!" Raito reached out. "Write their names. Kill them!"

A young high school genius underwent metamorphic maturity, now ripe and hanging onto his loose soul. He manipulated his pawns (Misa Amane, Teru Mikami, Kiyomi Takada and, his own father, Shoichiro Yagami), he had placed them accordingly and punctiliously, unafraid to stake them out for his survival. Due to diligence and the use of intelligence, He outlived his rival, L, as well as overthrowing him before throning himself as the new leading detective of the Kira case – securing his identity as Kira for a few more solid years.

"I'll… write your name."

Hands bloodied and bruised, Raito hung onto the leg of the death god. He was overshadowed by his grey neck and chin. He squawks: "I don't want to die!" and it did not do his suit, already soaked red like how the death god like his apples, further justice. Time ticked against the beat of his heart, each pulsation was pumped with adrenaline as his leftover breaths shortens and quickens.

He continued: "I don't want to die! I don't want to go to prison!"

What a deliciously acrid taste it left as he starts to croak.

"Goodbye, Raito Yagami."

Number four: "If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack."

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RYUUK'S NOTE

I inflicted the coup de grace as sealed in our deal.

Being an author is exhausting.

But it's been fun.

The existence of second note, the worldwide mass murder, games of hide and seek and… Holier-than-thou-Raito has reached the expiration of his potential. His strings had worn, so he then limped to the ground and faced under.

All for the sake of my own benefit – my boredom is satiated as for the time being.

I flipped through the book that he so willingly took ownership and each page contained beautiful history of his life as a faux-death god. But, damn, more than three names in five days? If this kid was an actual death god , he'd be a workaholic.

You know, there have been many stories about a Death Note being dropped into the human world. But never has one human overachieved in such faux-death god act. I have to give Raito quite a sum of credits: he did ever so well with supplying me with apples.

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Side Author's Note: My teacher couldn't grasp it. Haha. Hence, scrapped.