[this chapter starts slow but has rather important minute details and happenings throughout up till the end, pretty fucking pissed at wattled excuse my language as they deleted the finished version of this and I had to re write it. Almost 2,000 words freaking gone. Gentlemen ladies and all, it's gone. The whole convo with D.. Re written from scratch.


Summer flew in with all the cheer a cumulonimbus cloud sky would bring.
Water rolled down the window panes on a never ending siege.
The pit pat pounding was relentless against the roof and not even the library offered solstice.
Moby Dick hadn't yet managed to invigorate nor compel him to sleep, (frankly he felt it wouldn't be doing either anytime soon.)

His gaze wandered to the pitiful excuse for a coffee table. With a sigh, he began to lead through the papers and noted with mild irony that the warranty on the washer was up, a week ago. He could have told them that himself when it started to turn into a mini fountain flooding his entire flat yesterday.

To say that the landlady had not been happy would have been an understatement. She had smartly lectured him on acting like an adult, then ruined the effect with a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

Though he couldn't easily say he didn't fear her wrinkled disapproving countenance.
The lady's visage being to like Watari's for his comfort. That's right! He would just call Watari and...His heart gave a painful twinge. With a start he remembered. His countenance turned solemn and he fiercely glared letting papers drift to the puddled floor. The sky didn't even bother with an ominous thunder boom or, shiny lighting crackle, the downpour simply intensified.
Really, he was getting entirely too sick of water in general.
On page 49 the old sea Captain was still ranting and raving about his ship. He looked up from his book slightly green.

Silently he made the note to check if, the creak and tilt in the floorboards were just his vision. When no white whale materialized, he is forced to conclude, forced to conclude, that it had happened. Something worse than the whipped cream sputtering and dying in his hands earlier today.

No, it had finally happened, he is bored.
This itself was not an unusual but, as he opened the fridge and scrounged the cupboards.
The pantry yielded only one beat up a box of cocoa mix. He was out of strawberries and basically everything else he considered food. Little packets of instant ramen cheerily sat as the light tint off of their package taunted him. More pressingly he was out of tea. He knew he was going to have to do it. He was going to have to step outside.
He paced the floor space, opening and closing the curtains playing peek a boo with the weather.
In an effort to stall he lost not one but two comes to the raven nest of his hair.

With another all too weary sigh, his bony fingers reluctantly grabbed the shiny set of keys from where they mocked him on the hook. Shakily he fought with the door knob and lock. With an annoyed jangle, the thing opened and nearly deposited him on the bottom step.
Fortunately, he managed to avoid executives a perfect nose dive into the pavement.

A while later found him at the self-checkout counter, he had opted to avoid the cashiers bland looks. Now as he stared puzzled at the blasted self-checkout, he was almost regretting the decision to come all together. The old lady next to him gave him a toothy smile and the floor manager politely (meaning the manager constantly rearranged a shelf behind him. There is a 50% chance that was an excuse to be nearby if he pulled out gun) watched his old black duster. He didn't much care if anything it amused him more than irritated. He would rather be warm and look like robber then wet and have to mop. Everything was already wet back at the apartment it didn't mean he had to be.
The machine let out annoying beeps as it scanned.
Where apple tartlets really worth all this trouble? Staring at just perfectly golden , flaky with perfect amount of sugar on the top treat, he concluded that yes they were, and yes they needed more sugar and yes he defiantly would try to add whip cream on top next time.

The rain had lessened just a bit and he decided to take in the sights on the way back home. There, he finally spotted it. As usual an odd sort of sign was the first thing that caught his attention about the place. It was ornate with old style Kanji. So the place had moved again. Mythical beast decorated the sign hidden within cherry blossom flowers on a twisting branch. Other then that is was mostly inconspicuous in appearance. You could make out the glow of paper lanterns from the shop's display window.

The door opened with nary a jingle and easy push.
The smell of old books permeated the air a heady scent underlaid with incense. The bright collage of blinking electronic goods was at odds with its older paper counterparts. Still the placed managed the mish mash nicely avoiding a gaudy appearance.

A man in a classically traditional kimono walked from behind the counter to pour some tea into two cups. "Please, sit ". Gently prompted he sat. A tray of dango's was graciously placed before him. let it not ever be said D. was a poor host.
Only one liable to let his crypticness kill you, the fellow was infuriating that way.

Their knowledge of each other allowed him to blessedly skip that awkward icebreaker of small talk stage and get right to the awkwardly waiting stage. D. Would take his time, this had to be something big to get the man smirking so noticeable like that. The upturned twitch of the man's lips served only unnerve him. When D. smirked.. just hope he didn't smirk.

Just because he could, he went ahead and eat two dango's
D. Seated himself opposite of him like a coiled cat and watched him faintly amused. He attempted a smile. D.'s lips twitched upwards.
He dropped the smile.
"How can I help you today? " he stated in bored monotone more on edge the longer he sat. What do you want? He eats another dango while waiting for the reply.
D. Practically purred stretching like a languid cat to stand and grabbed a small package.
" This recently came into my possession it could use your unique expertise."
So, it's to be work then? At least he wouldn't be bored any thoughtfully grabbed another dango stabbing it with his fork particularly violently.
D. 's toned turned warning " A friend of mine dropped it off after a .. Unfortunate accident.
"My condolences".
Those words tasted dryer then ash and just as empty.
He pouted at the plate having eaten the last Dango.
The tea was worthless and all the sudden had started turning terribly bitter in his mouth
"Thank you. Now, my friend"
He resisted the urge to flinch. An choose to scowl instead.
" Don't be so dower. There is more where that came from, no need to be greedy"

Later, he would think back to what had unnerved him so much about D.'s tone and the warning he had detected there.
Later, came after cleaning and shuffling his goods back up the cursed steps and this time tripping up them. Yes he possessed talent.
Later, he pulled out his spare "work " monitor and computer and wondered at the inch of dust that accumulated on the screen in so short a time. A whole inch!

He activated the comps fail safes then picked up the suspicious package.

Upon its opening it was revealed to hold a innocent plain black disc.

He popped the thing into the slot, preparing to run a basic diagnostic.
Then not even 30 seconds in the screen went pitch black.
Spidery white letters danced across the screen.
Nine letters to be exact.
Cats had nine lives (perhaps a good omen? Would need to be examined latter only 5% probability. And Furthermore he did not believe in omens)
The malevolent child's chicken scratch danced across the screen like preschoolers A'B'C's.
Rocking on his heels and nibbling on the corner of his thumb he waited.
Almost proudly nine letters formed two words.
Two a dividend of four. Four an unlucky number a bad omen?
Two words.
"Death Note"