Objects of supernatural origin and abilities are never confined to one specific universe. No one truly knows why this is, but then nobody truly knows much beyond their own universe or even their own reality, for that matter.
Take the Death Note, for example. It pops up in universes like a rash. It rarely infects the entire universe, but it wreaks havoc in the sub realities that it infects. The beings of power wherever it pops up call it theirs, but more often than not, they do not truly understand it.
It is objects such as the Death Note that cause can limitless destruction when placed in the hands of a human. In the hands of anything but a human, the Death Note is a simple means of stealing the life force from humans. However, humans can not receive stolen life force from writing names down in the Death Note. Instead that energy goes to the Death Note. What the Death Note does with that stolen energy is subliminally affect its user's mind. The user will grow addicted to using the Note, and as the Note grows stronger, its influence increases. The Death Note will then use its influence to make the unsuspecting user write down more names increasing the vicious cycle.
The cycle ultimately ends when the user dies because the Death Note started sucking away the users lifespan. After that, the Death Note will find another suitable user beginning the cycle anew.
There are discrepancies, of course. A human can always give the Death Note up and the Death Note's effects will disappear from the former user's mind. The only way for it to reassert its influence is through direct contact.
The Death Note's ultimate goals are unknown. Its goal could simply be power, and it could be trying to leech as much life force as possible, always searching for more, an insatiable parasite. Or its intent could be far more sinister.
Both options are equally likely, and it is impossible to tell which without any sort of further study.
Perhaps its ultimate goal is to simply create misery. It would not be a stretch to assume, and the Death Note has brought tragedy to many a victim.
There is no tale of misery, longing, despair, and love quite like what occurred when a Death Note fell into the hands of Hilda White.
o0o0o
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"I'm bored."
"That wasn't an answer."
"Yes it was. I'm bored, which means that this is a good idea."
"How I put up with you, I don't know."
"I make things interesting for you."
"True enough. I might just join you in this insane plan of yours."
"Just you wait. This is the best idea I've had so far."
o0o0o
And so it was that the Death Note fell to the human world. Into a school yard to be specific. Said yard was currently empty at the moment but would be teeming with activity in approximately five minutes when the school bell ended and classes ended for the day.
Despite its sudden appearance, the Death Note was rather inconspicuous. There was no flashing display screaming out, "Here I am! Come pick me up!" Only a plain black notebook with concise instructions on the inside cover, neatly detailing how exactly it was used. The Death Note's arrival went unnoticed by all but one person, and that one person meant all the difference in the world.
It is here that Hilda White comes into play. As she idly gazed out the window in the last few minutes of class, she couldn't help but notice a black notebook fall from seemingly nowhere and settle in the grass. Her electric blue eyes sparked with a lighting curiosity as she pondered where it could have come from.
Possibilities went from the logical someone threw it out a window to the downright unlikely explanation of dimensional wormholes.
As the bell finally rang and Hilda left class, her route just so happened to go through the courtyard and she just so happened to scoop up the little black notebook from where it had fallen in the grass.
Hilda slipped it into her bag to look over when she got home, not knowing the full consequences of that small, seemingly inconsequential action.
But even if she had known, she wouldn't have believed it.
o0o0o
Hilda suppressed a snort. A notebook that killed people if you wrote their name in it? If that wasn't unbelievable then she didn't know what was.
But still, something niggled at the back of her mind. What if the Death Note really could kill people? What would happen if she wrote-
No! Hilda shook her head, trying to clear it. She wasn't going to believe for one second that this was anything more than a joke! And a cruel one at that!
Hilda was going to do the sensible thing, and throw it out the window.
But what if it really worked? What if she threw it and some idiot wrote peoples' names in it? What if someone from school found it and wrote her name in it?
And there she went again. Believing the Death Note worked. Honestly! Hilda hadn't realized that she was that gullible.
Hilda just wanted to sink down and forget she even picked up something this embarrassing. She needed to just get rid of it and forget any of this ever happened.
Hilda paused a moment as a thought occurred to her.
How did she know that the Death Note didn't work?
If Hilda was being objective, then she really had no proof one way or the other. All she had for materialistic evidence was the notebook and the instructions on it. Hilda had seen some other jokes, but they hadn't seemed as real to her. Maybe it was simply because none of them claimed death as their outcome. Or maybe it was because the people telling her about the scams were idiots and the fact that they believed in it was precisely the reason Hilda didn't believe it.
The only way for Hilda to truly ascertain whether or not the Death Note was a hoax was if she wrote somebody's name in it.
But she couldn't do that, because what if she actually killed someone? Nobody deserved to have their life on the line to see if some occult notebook worked. That was just sick.
The only type of person who Hilda honestly felt comfortable killing like that would be a criminal. The world would probably be better off without criminals, anyway.
No! What was she thinking! Murder is murder, even if the one murdered was a criminal! Hilda had heard stories about war criminals in a long ago war who tested new weapons on criminals. The act was despicable then, and at least they had the excuse of war. Hilda didn't even have that, all she had was the pitiful excuse that was her curiosity. And curiosity was no use at all when lives are at stake.
But odds were that the criminal would not, in fact, die. So there wasn't a problem.
Except for the fact that Hilda was honestly considering attempting murder. For no other motive than out of curiosity.
Hilda sighed when she realized that her thoughts were moving in circles. In an attempt to distract herself from her ideological debate, she switched on the TV.
The news flashed on, and the current news story was about a man holding a preschool hostage. They were displaying his name and a picture of his face.
Hilda could write his name down and save all of those children. It would be so easy.
But should she?
The man was armed, and was threatening children. That was wrong, to her ideals. If Hilda did nothing, then she had the childrens' blood on her hands, all because of her own inaction.
But what if she wrote his name down? Would that mean one would die for the sake of the many? Was that wrong?
Hilda supposed that it would be wrong if the man was an innocent victim. But he wasn't. He was a direct threat to people's safety.
But did he have to die for the threat to be eliminated?
If the police were capable of handling the threat, then no, he did not need to die. As was the case if he surrendered right now.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case here. The police and the man were at a stalemate. The police couldn't do anything for fear of harming the children. And if the man surrendered right now, the police wouldn't let him go free.
Hilda had a solution with the Death Note, assuming it worked. If it didn't, then no harm done. If it did, then she was a murderer.
A murderer who by killing prevented innocent lives from being lost.
Hilda took a deep breath to steady herself and wrote the man's name in neat print. With baited breath she waited an agonizing forty seconds that signaled the end of his life.
Forty seconds passed, and Hilda let out the breath that she didn't know she'd been holding. It really was a hoax-
"-The hostages are coming out of the building! I repeat, the hostages are coming out of the building! Sources say that the man holding them hostage has died of a heart attack!"
Hilda paled. It really worked. He was really dead. She was really a murderer.
The walls of her room seemed to close in around her, and soon she saw no difference between it and a jail cell.
Hilda fled her room and went outside to clear her head.
o0o0o
One of the things Hilda regretted most about leaving Nuvema was the fresh night air.
Nimbasa was okay, she supposed, but she liked taking walks at night in Nuvema more. If she was in Nuvema on a night like tonight, then on the north wind, the smell of wildflowers would drift down into town.
Additionally, it wasn't a good idea to take a walk at this time of night in Nimbasa as it was Nuvema.
Hilda didn't care. Not tonight.
She was a murderer, and she was going to enjoy her fleeting freedom while it lasted.
Wait a minute. How was she going to get caught? There was no real way to connect her to anything.
Actually, the thought that Hilda could get away with murder made her feel sicker than she already was.
She was just another blip under the radar in the failing justice system.
Just like that guy and his friends harassing that girl up the road. People passed by, simply accepting the world for its flaws and making no move to help. Their help would make a difference, yet still they do nothing.
Sometimes Hilda wondered if she was the only one who truly understood justice.
Justice was upholding the ideals of society and oneself. It was not walking idly by when a crime was being committed. Justice was action, because justice cannot occur if everyone looks away from the truth.
Hilda grasped the Death Note tighter in her hands. She hadn't realized that she was still holding it until just then.
She knew the name and face of the guy harassing the girl. He had been expelled from her school last year, for various reasons, including but not limited to bullying, assault, illegal drug use on campus, and vandalism.
Nobody would miss him.
Hilda saw a pen lying on the ground. She picked it up and wrote down his name and wrote the cause of death as a traffic accident.
Forty seconds ticked by. The girl took a chance and bolted across the street. He followed.
At that moment, a truck sped down the road. Hilda watched it happen as if it was slow motion.
The truck honked and tried to brake.
He paused and looked to the side, eyes widening as he saw the truck.
He froze. Still. Unmoving. Like a deer frozen in headlights.
The truck hit him and he moved from the force of the impact.
Then he was still again. But this time he was frozen with death.
Blood had splattered everywhere. Some had even gotten on Hilda.
Hilda bit back a laugh- or was it a sob?-when she realized that the blood had splashed all over her hands.
o0o0o