Light's eyes drifted over the classroom as the teacher droned on and on about some Bible verse. His eyes drifted over the class as he listened, scowling slightly at his other classmates. Honestly I don't care if you play video games during class and potentially fail the course. But could you at least turn the sound down?
He placed his cheek against his hand as he glanced out the window, through which sunlight flickered into the dreary classroom. Same old, same old.
"Light," the teacher's voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he glanced to the front of the room. "Care to read the next passage?"
"Yes, sir," Light stood dutifully, picking up the book. The English words flowed smoothly off his tongue, and the teacher nodded when he was done.
"Excellent work, as always," he said. "Now, if we observe the usage of the verbs. . ."
Light tuned the chatter in the room out as he looked back out the window. Why bother? He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
The bell rang and everybody stood up in a synchronized scraping of chairs and clamor of pens and books being shoved into bags. "Make sure to read the assigned pages," the teacher called as Light swung the bag over his shoulder. "I want a page of explaining the synopsis of the text by Tuesday!"
Light supressed a yawn as he pulled on his blazer. Cram school tonight, he thought, swinging his bag over his shoulder. And then there's homework after that. . . he groaned inwardly. Looks like no sleep tonight, either.
"Um, Light?"
"Hm?" he glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, hey, Hideko."
The girl nodded, looking nervous. "Hey!" she giggled slightly, tucking her hair over her ear. "So, listen. . ." she glanced over her shoulder to where two girls were standing by the door, chatting, and definitely not watching the two of them. "Can you help me out with my English work? It's just that you're so good at it, and I'm having a lot of trouble –"
"No problem," Light smiled. "Do you want me to come over sometime?" He did a mental search through his calendar. "Monday?"
Hideko nodded vigorously. "Okay! Thanks! I'll text you my address?"
"Sure," Light kept his smile on as she rushed to her friends. The squeal echoed down the hall and he rolled his eyes, moving to leave the room.
What the –
He frowned, pausing and glancing out the window. There, in the centre of the courtyard, was a black notebook, lying on the ground. A black notebook that Light was certain had not been there a second ago – he knew this because he'd been looking out the exact window for most of the class.
It was still there when Light left the building, and he knelt, picking it up. A wave of goosebumps suddenly washed over him, and he shivered as a cool breeze blew by. Winter's coming, I guess. He turned it over, looking at the cover.
Death Note.
"What the hell?" he muttered out loud, flipping it back over. "Death Note?" Is this some emo's dark poetry journal or something?
He glanced around a few more times. Nobody had come up to him when he picked up the notebook, and, even now, people were milling around, on their way home, as if nothing had happened, seemingly believing that the notebook belonged to Light. He frowned, debating for a moment, before tucking the journal in his bag and walking off school grounds.
The notebook weighed on his mind as he stood by the train tracks, waiting for the barriers to lift. Even though he knew it was still there, he felt a constant urge to glance into his bag, making sure the black journal was still there, tucked between his math notebook and English textbook. It was like an ever-looming neon sign bouncing over his bag, in the brightest colors known to man, flashing and screaming 'I exist! Notice me!' Indeed, the pull was so strong he found himself wondering how the other pedestrians walking by his side could ignore its temptation – really, shouldn't they all be crowding him right now, shoving each other aside to stare into his schoolbag, ogling at the unassuming diary.
Finally, his will gave away and he reached into the bag. He gave himself the opportunity to examine the cover with more detail – the letters were seemingly etched into the cover, colored white, and seemed to shine slightly in the setting sun. He flipped the thin, cracked leather cover open. The first page was just as black as the binding, and decorated with a gothic border and an illustration of a skull.
The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
Light scoffed as he snapped the notebook shut, sticking it back in his bag. That's sick. He shook his head as he continued up the street towards his house, pushing open the gate as he pulled out his keys. And really bad poetry.
Sachiko was standing in the front hall as Light entered the house. "Light, dear," she smiled.
"Hey, Mom," Light nodded, pulling the door shut. He glanced at her outstretched hands. "Oh, right," he put his bag down, pulling out a sheet of paper folded up at the bottom.
"Oh, Light!" she exclaimed as Light slipped on a pair of slippers. "Number one, again! How nice!"
"Yeah," Light said. "I'll be in my room, okay?"
He stumbled over a baseball bat in the hallways and bit back a curse as he tripped over it, steadying himself against the wall. "Sayu!" he called, picking it up. "Sayu, pick up your stuff!" He rolled his eyes when he received no reply, propping the bat up next to her bedroom door, nudging the cap and glove that had been lying next to it to the wall.
He closed the door of his own room with a small sigh, taking off his school blazer and hanging it up on the back of his door. He sat down at his desk, resting his bag on the ground next to it, taking out his books and putting them on his desk.
He picked up a pen that'd been lying on the edge of his desk and paused as he made to open his English book. His gaze fell back onto the black notebook at the bottom of the pile, and he slowly put his highlighter back down, the niggle returning to the back of his mind.
He sighed as he shoved his other books away, opening the thin black journal again.
The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
The note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing their name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, then it will happen.
If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.
After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written within the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.
Light rolled his eyes as he shut the book again. Ridiculous. He shoved it into the corner of his desk, leaning back in his chair. Just another sick joke, like one of those chain emails – "pass this on in the next five minutes or else the creepy girl will crawl out of your drain and kill you". He sat in silence for another minute before he realized he'd done nothing, and grabbed the remote for the TV in the corner of the room. He flicked it on to the news channel and stared at it for a few moments, watching as the cheery anchor prattled on about some charity event happening in the next week.
He sat up straighter as the image suddenly changed, showing a group of riot police standing around a daycare centre. "We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this emergency broadcast," the newscaster, an anxious-looking, dark-haired man said. "I'm here in front of Onadaowo Daycare Centre, where a gunman has taken three teachers and eighteen children hostage."
Light watched as the man continued to speak, and a picture of the man appeared on the screen. "The suspect's name is Kurou Otoharada," the man said.
Light's gaze was drawn back to the notebook and, without thinking, he dragged it closer to him, picking up his pencil and clicking it –
He dropped it, staring at the lead snapped off on the desk. What am I doing? his heart pounded as he stared at the notebook. Don't be ridiculous. It's just a normal notebook that some sick freak decided to turn into a –
He frowned. A what? Murder weapon? He shook his head. For all I know, it could just be some journal bought on sale from Seiyu, covered with paint.
But if there's a chance. . .
He shook his head again, harder, this time, and shoved the notebook away. Quit it! he chided himself. That thing's just weird. He nudged his pencil with his finger, watching as it rolled off his desk, landing on the ground. Don't think about it, he thought, turning his gaze back to the TV. That's how people get obsessed – and look how well it turns out for them.
There were sudden bangs from the TV, and he jumped a bit in his seat, turning to look at the screen. "Shots have just sounded from within the building!" the newscaster reported as the riot police began charging forwards, plastic shields held up in front of them. "We don't know if anybody has been injured! The police are moving in right now!"
Light's eyes narrowed. Screw it.
He leaned over, snatching up the pencil from the ground and flipping open the notebook. He looked back up at the TV, fixing the man's droopy face, eyebags, and pallid skin in his mind. His pencil scratched against the paper – completely normal paper, nothing weird about it – as he wrote down the name.
音原田 九郎.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, looking at the TV with shadowed eyes. The ticking of the hand on his watch suddenly seemed so much louder, echoing in the room, in his head, as the seconds moved by, sluggish, but, somehow, faster than ever.
Light shook his head after forty seconds had passed. See? He ran a hand through his hair, letting the caramel locks fall over his forehead. It's just a dumb prank. Now you can chuck the thing –
"Hold on!" the newscaster said as a man rushed up to him, whispering in his ear. "We've got reports from inside – what?" his jaw dropped.
Light straightened, heart pounding furiously. No way.
"I – I can't believe this!" the man turned back to the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, Otoharada is dead!"
Light's head spun, entire body burning with – what? Shame? Shock? Humiliation? He felt as if he'd been torn from his body, but was still locked in, not feeling, yet feeling everything.
He stood suddenly, pulling out a spring jacket and grabbing his bag, shoving the Death Note deep into it.
"Mom!" he called as he rushed down the stairs, pulling the bag over his shoulder. "I'm heading out!"
xxx
He paused as a ripple passed through the air and space around him, movements faltering slightly.
His companion glanced up from her laptop. "Problem?"
He shook his head, ignoring the way the hair stood up on the back of his neck. "No," he said, shaking his head. "No, nothing at all."
Weird people? wHo cOulD tHeY bE?