"D-Tecnolife"
By: Shuhei Vanessa
(This is my second fiction on DN not to be confused as a sequel to the other one. This is also a crossover and you'll now from which …)
As I looked around, I knew that I was making a bad mistake. I was leaning on the bridge, still wearing my uniform. It was already ten o'clock at night. I knew that my parents weren't going to look for me because I told them that I was spending the night with a friend. A friend, yeah right, if my adopted mother only knew that I had none. She doesn't know anything about me, except for my grades. I kept looking what was in front of me. The park wasn't very crowded, especially around the bridge.
A bridge that nobody wanted to be on because it was dangerously slippery, this brought me an important question. Why am I on the bride this late at night? The truth is everything has stopped having meaning. My adopted family, my friend's, my life meant nothing to me. Ever since I was little I felt like I never belong and now that I think about it I think that I never will.
My last name is … but I have never thought of myself with that last name. If somebody would find my corpse tomorrow, what would they think? Anybody would recognize my face as that of the prodigy. Why would he throw his life away? What kind of problems would he have? I am a genius, good looking and have a pretty close family. But this is what stranger's would only like to see.
For starters, I get bored pretty easily so this is why I am always studying. Sometimes I dream about my real family and see from where I get my good looks from. Lastly, the perfect family I was with is only my adopted family. My adopted mother is only interested in looking good with her gossips friends, my adopted father, too in love with his job to even notice the needs of his family.
So, I always think of my adopted family's name not as my own, but just as the name that save my life. My adopted family's name is a very well known name, but nobody knows my real name except for me and my adopted parent's. I haven't even told them that I already know that I am adopted.
Ever since I was little I had never liked my new last name just my first name. I can safely say this without arrogance. My first name suits me perfectly, why because this is what my real family had named me. My second name even though is very well known and famous I still don't like it.
I wasn't born here in Japan, I was born on America. They had brought me here and I hated everything, they, being my adopted parents. My adopted mother isn't a celebrity, but she surely wants my fame and acts like she is. She is the vainest person when it comes to me that she has already been in magazines and the television by talking on how she took care of a prodigy.
What a hypocrite, she didn't take care of me. I practically raised myself and my adopted little sister. I am not interested in the fame or anything at all.
Over the last year I took up some modeling for some magazines. In fact I didn't even care about it. This was just one more thing to add to my increasing shallow fame. I just want all of this to end, right now.
I am just fifteen years old, but I already feel like I am twice that age. I am already too disillusioned and too adrift to care. I almost have a normal life, almost being the key word here, what would make my life complete would be the gift that my real parents left me. The gift, their legacy that they had left me with it is pretty unusual to say the least.
Since I was growing up a lot of strange things have happened to me. I have felt like someone was looking after me. For example, my adopted mother had never celebrated my birthday because she was too busy shopping or getting drunk. Yet, a delivery truck would always go to my house on my birthday to deliver a cake. This wasn't just any ordinary cake; it was a carrot cake in the shape of a carrot with a light sugar free coating.
Sometimes when I am sleeping I would feel like somebody is tucking me in bed and gently patting my head. Speaking of sleep, I keep having these strange dreams about this strange individual with bright red eyes. My dreams sometimes frustrate me because I can't see the full picture until later.
One day I had decided to stay awake the whole night, this is when I felt it. I know someone was tucking me in and gently and lovingly patting my head. I quickly opened my eyes and got up only to see them, my parents. My mother was just as beautiful as I had dreamt her to be. She has short blond hair and blue confident eyes, Marie. My father with his clean cut hairs that were almost covering his dark brown eyes.
They have voices, but they are also confusing to decipher what they want to tell me. Why do they feel so real and so warm to the touch? I don't understand anything in the world in moments like those, moments when it's just me and my parents. I can feel them, their warmth, I can see them, their bright smiles and I can hear how proud they are of my accomplishments.
So far I am the only one that can see them and somehow this reality would always make me cry a little. Fortunately for me I can always count on her to sooth me and dad would always try to lighten up the mood by telling me what he does when I'm at school.
My gift, if you can call it that was not only from my mother but my father as well. I can see and talk to the dearly departed in other words the dead. I was so lost in thought that I didn't even noticed that anybody had been near me until …
"Hello there," a smooth voice whispered in my ear. It had startled me that if he hadn't caught me I would have fallen. "Aren't you being a little selfish, throwing all of this …" he traced a finger lightly on my throat. "… without giving me a taste," the strange blond carefully whispered it. What the hell, who is he?
I backed away a little, I was a little weary that he might be a stalker or worst by the looks of it necrophilia. "Who the hell are you? What do you want from me?" I harshly asked the blond.
"One date, right now and if you don't like it you can always return here and drown if you want that," he replied in the same silky tone he had used with me. I carefully looked at him. His voice may have sounded smooth and composed but his eyes seem to be pleading for me to accept as if his life depended on it.
Why not, I had nothing to lose, right? "This is the oddest pick up line I have ever heard, but I accept your invitation. The only condition is that I choose the place," I challenge him. By the looks he had been giving me, he had brightened a little. "By the way, what's your name?" I asked when he hadn't elaborated his identification to me.
"Ren Maaka, at your service and what is your name," he asks out of politeness because I think that he already knows my name, but I comply. I also knew that what I was doing was wrong. It was also stupid of me to engage in conversation with a perfect stranger, but my instinct somehow prevailed over my understanding.
"Light, Yagami."