AN: Taro is my own character, i just liked the name too much to change it ^_^
*Beep, beep, beep*
Taro slapped his hand down on the alarm clock, and quickly retracted his hand into the warm covers. After a few minutes of shut-eye, he groggily sat up in bed, leaning his back against where the walls met and rubbed his eyes awake.
There was no struggle to adjust to the brightness of day; his room was as blackened as shut eyes. Darkness loomed around him, yet the dawn had broken; darkness filled with mystery and often deceit. Drawing his blinds open was a useless endeavour, his room – no, his cage – was tucked away in the back of this high rise apartment building in this city, in the dingy alleyway that never saw light, blocked by the other buildings racing to tower above each other in the fight for light.
In his darkness, Taro sat and festered in his thoughts. He slid down on top of his bed covers and laid his head on his interlocked hands, staring blankly up into the dark abyss. His mind wondered, imagining how the breeze felt that flowed through their homes during the hot summers; how fresh and revitalising it was.
More so than envy for this wind, Taro was angry. His jaw clenched as he thought of the hundreds of apartments stacked above theirs, using his four walls to stay suspended in the air. He wondered whether those people cared or even thought about those below them; how much their lives depended on the four small cage walls. It was human nature for Taro to want their extravagant life, but the self-absorbed mentality that came along with money brought a sour taste to his mouth.
Sometimes he wished those people dead. No, it was a recurring thought pulsating through his brain at all times.
As he made his daily commute to the bus stop, Taro saw the selfishness breed merrily amongst his people, powered by the greed of people like those who lived above him. Keeping to himself mostly, he sat in the back of the bus and stared out the window; a rainbow of colours attacking his eyes, each vying for individual attention. Whilst he stared blankly to the world outside the confines of the bus, he eavesdropped on whatever conversation's sounds waves would enter his ears.
The choking snore of the homeless lady he always commuted with; the irate clatter of teenagers on their cell phones, barely masked by their high-pitched banter. Taro caught himself staring out at these girls, and quickly peered back outside the steaming window, warmed by his breath. Using the sleeve of his tattered winter coat, Taro wiped away a neat circle to view the world outside. The adverts flashed past in bright colours, each trying to grab limited attention. They forced down products in the, claiming to be the grand solution we all seek in our miserable lives. "The problem is you," he bitterly muttered to himself.
Every day he took that bus to go to school, a place he loved with people he hated. Oddly enough, he had made a friend in this school – something Taro deemed virtually impossible: people like them did not hang out with the lows like him. Taro didn't feel like he fitted in; the other students treated him as though he were an intruding outsider. Taro conceded: he did not belong there; his attendance was gained through a full scholarship. However, he wore his exclusion as a medal; it proved that he was never to live the poisoned life of theirs.
What he enjoyed about Light Yagami, his sole friend, was his intellect. Yes, he lived the life Taro was vehemently opposed to, but Taro had somehow managed to get passed this fact. They spent most of their day together, somewhat forced by their similar timetables: though both sixteen, they excelled passed their grade's curriculum and were in final year a year earlier, and in the same few university courses offered by the school. Little conversation happened between the boys, often caused by Taro's deep absorption into anything he could read.
That day in particular, he managed to find his head buried in a tabloid magazine, lined with juicy gossip of local and international celebrities from sources that were "close to the stars" who (conveniently) preferred to remain nameless. Taro amused himself thinking that people actually accepted the shoddy 'investigative journalism' as divine truth.
Light steered them through the mass of students pouring out from the classes as their break began, tugging the engrossed Taro from plummeting into their peers.
Finally, they burst out in the school court yard, and made their way to their usual seating area. As Taro sat down, a chill went up his spine. He made a mental note to find a different seat during the cold late-November month. As December approached, it was bound to get even colder. The bench was already chilled concrete with a layer of frost formed from being placed in the shadows of the school's buildings. About to voice his suggestion, Taro breathed in to let out a sentence to Light, yet turned to find… air. Taro lowered the rubbish magazine and whipped his neck around to see where Light had evaporated to. On the far end of the court yard, Taro could make out the silhouette of Light, who was bending over and picked up what seemed to be a notebook – or something else thin and rectangular. Taro squinted to see over the far distance.
Strangely, Light placed this notebook back where he had found it and casually walked to the shaded bench. As if nothing had happened, Light started rummaging in his satchel.
Taro looked at Light expectantly as he returned to his seat, hoping his continued stares would encourage Light to explain. As Light scratched in his bag, Taro saw that he'd have to dig for an explanation.
"What was that?"
"Hmm?"
"That thing that you just picked up over there," gesturing towards the grass's direction.
"It's a notebook," Light stopped searching through his satchel and looked at Taro, "calls itself 'Death Note'. I watched it fall from the English class window just before break started."
"'Death Note'?"
Light began to chuckle, "It's just a practical joke Taro, don't let the name fool you. Probably one of the classes above us dropped it. You know how bored those seniors get. Just think about last year's flooding of the Biology class" Light paused, "Though, I'll give 'em points for this one, it's well thought-out; the 'Death Note' even has rules" Light grinned, trying to pacify his chuckle from becoming a roaring laughter.
As soon as Taro heard of rules, he also began to chuckle. "Rules? Really… This I've got to see!" He went over to the grass, the item still where Light had placed it. 'Death Note', just like Light had said. As he made his way back to Light, who had finally found what he searched for in his bag, Taro flipped through the pages of the note to find them all blank. It was only on the inside front cover where the pristine note had been defaced.
Taro sat and read the 'How to use' guide aloud: "The human's name whose name is written in this note shall die," A smile began to creep on his face; he continued, "This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected."
Taro looked up into Light's eyes. Pause. They burst out in roaring laughter at the 'magical paper' that caused death through imagination.
"Wait!" Taro had read ahead, barely able to continue through his laughter, "This rule is a good one: If the death is unspecified, the victim will simply die of a... heart attack!"
"Paper causing cardiac arrest?" Light wiped a tear forming in his right eye.
The bell rang, noting the end of break. Taro slipped the notebook into his bag, hoping to continue the 'how to use' guide for another good laugh. "Come, let's go," Light said through his chuckles and they made their way to the corridors, smiles plastered on their faces.
"Taro!" his aunt screamed from her room in the early hours of a September morning.
Groaning, Taro rolled in bed, stuck out his hand to brave the cold of autumn morning and searched for his watch, giving up on that. Whatever the time, it was too early for him to be awoken with such vigour.
Through his half-awake-half-asleep state, Taro heard shuffling outside his door, knowing what came next.
"Taro!" she yelled again, swinging his door open with a crash. She fumbled with the string of her gown she had grabbed to look decent whilst she reprimanded the teenager. Gown fastened, her hands were now free to tug on Taro's sheets.
"C'mon, get up" she said over his groans, "there are things to be done today. Time to spring clean!" she sniffed, "and judging by the smell in here, this is long overdue."
"It's not even spring" Taro muttered softly into his pillow. He decided to use his usual tactic whenever these barge-ins happened: feign sleeping.
"I heard that" his aunt pulled his curtains open, "so don't even pretend to be asleep. Urg, it really does smell horrible in here."
He heard a creek; this distinct sound made Taro whip out of bed. "Don't open that!" he commanded. His aunt raised her brow at the tone Taro used with her, "I mean", changing to a calm tone, "don't open that window. I'd take this smell over the smell of rotting dumpster."
"Well… Alright then," his aunt trudged over to the door, surprised she hadn't tripped over Taro's scattered items on the floor, "I'll leave this door open then, air out this stank scent." She began to leave, but peered in from the side of the door frame. "Oh, and Taro?"
"Yes?" he responded gruffly.
"It's Spring in the southern hemisphere, so get to cleaning! I'd start with the floor"
Taro thought he'd do the usual and dump everything underneath his bed, but it was about time he dealt with his floor; it needed to match the categorised neatness of his cupboard. Making simple piles of 'keep' and 'discard', Taro breezed through the items on his floor.
He then moved on to the items underneath his bed. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Taro bent over with his head dangling between his legs. Using his hand as his eyes, Taro felt around and pulled out whatever he could find: that missing sock, discarded papers, a dirty spoon….
As the items diminished, it became more difficult for Taro to reach underneath. Changing positions, he lay across his floor, knees bent with feet flying to the ceiling so he could fit between his bed and cupboard.
Taro pulled out a pile of two book-like items, and sat cross legged, leaning his back against his cupboard. Covered in dust, he wiped off this layer to reveal a tabloid magazine. "Definitely throwing this away." He added it to the pile.
Taro laughed at what was in his hand: the 'Death Note'.
Instantly, he remembered the day Light and he had found this note discarded. He flipped open the notebook to its inside front cover, re-reading the 'how to use guide' that provided his friend and himself a good laugh.
But something was different – as though someone had tampered with it. He observed how dustless the note was in comparison to the tabloid that festered beneath his bed for the same 9 month period. He felt uneasy. His chuckling smile morphed as he flickered through the pages, eyes widening as he stopped on the black back inside cover.
Taro dropped the note as though it was poisonous, falling open to this last page, forcing Taro to re-read what startled him so: the new rules in the Death Note.