Chapter Two

"Light!" I called out, catching him in an alleyway off the main road. He glanced over his shoulder, the rain plastering his hair to his face and soaking through his beige jacket. It was a stark contrast to his presentation at school.

"Minerva," he said thickly, swallowing and straightening from his position leaning on the brick wall. I opened my mouth to say more, when I noticed the Death Note sticking out of his bag. Unthinking, I snatched it, a ridiculous conclusion forming.

Inside were the names Otoharada Kurou and Shibuimaru Takuo, the latter having been written in six different variations, each with accidental death next to it.

"What is this?" I murmured in bewilderment. Light jerked it from my hands and shoved it into his bag but the image was already seared in my mind.

"Minerva." I looked up to see him staring at me intensely. "You can't tell anyone."

"So you did kill them?"

"They deserved it."

For a second I couldn't formulate a reply to such a ludicrous statement. Then my mind clicked and I shouted at him, "Are you kidding me? You think you have the right to decide who lives and who dies like some kind of god?"

He stared at me, the emotion in his eyes inscrutable. I returned his gaze despite feeling as though I was being judged for some intention that I wouldn't like. Decidedly uncomfortable, I refused to look away, even as he glanced down at the Death Note, took out a pen from his bag and wrote on the corner of the notebook. He tore off the paper and handed it to me. On it was the phone number for a residential landline.

"Huh?"

"We can't talk about it here. What's your number?" he asked, holding out the notebook for me to write on. Wary of the names written on its pages, I took it and groped around in my bag for the fountain pen I took with me everywhere. To my shock, I couldn't find it.

"Oh, no," I muttered. "It must have dropped out of my bag when I was running. Please don't tell me someone picked it up."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh?" I returned my focus back to the might-be murderer in front of me. "Nothing. Can I borrow your pen?" He handed it over and I wrote the number for my cell phone down, unwilling to let him have the apartment's. If Quinn picked it up, I would have some explaining to do.

"Here." I passed the Death Note back and shifted the strap of my satchel, searching for a way out of this situation.

"So what are you doing here?" Light asked, suddenly the picture of charming. Even soaking wet and still paler than healthy, he somehow managed to look perfectly presentable. I could only imagine that I looked like a drowned rat.

"Buying eggs for dessert. Speaking of which, I need to go back and pick them up."

"I'll walk you."

"Don't worry about it," I cut in quickly. "It's in the opposite direction of where you're going." Not to mention you may just kill another human being if I stand around you long enough.

"Alright then." Light held out his hand to shake. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

I stared at the hand for longer than was polite before taking it. As soon as I did I wished I hadn't. His hand was too warm and human for a killer to have. If someone did something so against nature, shouldn't it manifest on them somehow? Otherwise what is there to distinguish those evil from those good?

After shaking twice, I let go, stepped back and bade him a hasty goodbye with a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. He smiled back and that calculation from earlier in the day was back. I was too anxious to leave to call him out on it.

The last thing I said to him was, "There's wet chalk powder in your hair."

Rushing back along the way I'd come, I scanned the footpath for the pen. I stepped onto the street where Takuo had been killed and kept my eyes on the ground, determined not to look at the violent scene of death.

A pair of black lace-up boots and the cuffs of blue pants appeared in my vision. A policeman gave me a hard stare that spoke of long nights and too little pay and said, "Sorry, Miss. There's been an accident. You'll need to take another route."

Over his shoulder a glint caught my eye. My silver embossed fountain pen was lying innocently on its side just across the street, winking at me in the light of the street lamps.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I need to get my pen. It's a family heirloom." I pointed to the pen. He frowned at the sight of it.

"If that is your pen, were you here when the accident occurred?" he asked. I opened my mouth to affirm it but what came out instead was,

"No. I dropped it before when I was on my way to buy some eggs and bumped into a friend. I ended up walking them home when I realised that I'd dropped it. Now, I am sorry, but I would rather not return home without it. If you'll excuse me." I made to move past him but he blocked my path.

"Miss, if you were here, you'll need to answer some questions."

"I just told you, I didn't see the accident."

"Is that blood on your shoes?"

"There is no possible way there is blood on my boots. It's been raining. Excuse me." I shoved past him and raced across the closed off street, scooping up my pen as I did so. Running forward, I dodged between various policemen and medical officers, leaping over the police-tape that was just being set up and sprinted all the way to the apartment building without looking back. There were shouts for me to stop that stopped as soon as I ran into the complex. Punching in the code for the elevator, I waited and heard nothing but the sound of the receptionist chatting on his phone to his girlfriend and the doorman shutting the door. The staff were paid to be discreet, I'd realised over the past few days living here.

In the apartment the lights were out, the television was off and there was no music coming from Quinn's room. A quick check revealed him sleeping soundly in his bed, still getting rid of the last dregs of jet lag. Good thing too; I had no eggs and no desire to cook.

Instead I threw my bag in my room, grabbed my easel and fountain pen stared out the window. I needed a distraction, something to take my mind away from Light and the Death Note and Takuo's bloody end. I put my pen to paper and started drawing the group of bubblegum girls, their eyes overly large and their waists too thin like the common Japanese comic style of drawing. When it was done and inked in I ripped off the page, placed it on the coffee table and started again, this time drawing a pair of realistic eyes that burned into my soul.

I looked at them. They looked back. Sighing in defeat, I got up and went to bed.

Saturday came and went and I spoke to Ayako, Mikoto and Nizomi, trying to appear as though I wasn't avoiding Light. The girls in the class were much more amiable towards me when I wasn't 'stealing' their man and soon I had a few acquaintances in class A-3 that were fun to talk to. Kuroda came up to me at the day's end as I was leaving to find Quinn. Thank goodness for the half day. A full would have been torture.

"Hey, Minerva-san!" he called out, coming up to my side. "What's up with you and Yagami? Did you guys already have a fight?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because you guys weren't speaking," he said in a 'duh' tone. "Yesterday you were inseparable."

"He was showing me around. That's all."

"Uh huh. Right." He obviously didn't believe me at all and yet he changed the subject. "Where are you off to now?"

"Picking my brother up from the middle school." We were walking along the outside of the prestigious academy. Though the middle school could be accessed directly through the high school compound it was more efficient to just go around the block on the outside rather than through a whole lot of doors and staircases that ensured the two schools didn't mix during class time. The view was more picturesque this way too – trees lined the streets, a park was across the road and students in uniform chatted to each other casually, making the oncoming cold weather seem to hold off for just little while longer.

"Your brother Quinn, right? He's fourteen?"

"Gossip sure does travel fast, doesn't it?"

"You joking? You're the most exciting thing to happen to this school since Yagami joined two years ago and took out all the top places and refused to be student council president. Apparently he was too busy with his studies."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe," I mused. If anything I pegged him as someone with photographic memory. Capable of recall that regular people would only dream of.

We rounded the corner and came upon the younger school where a distinctive blonde head with earphones stuck out of the crowd like a sore thumb. We walked up to him and I slung my arm over his shoulders, taking a peek at what he was listening to. From the name I gathered it was one of the pop bands that were all over the local billboards.

"Who're you?" Quinn asked Kuroda immediately. If Kuroda took offense from his blunt attitude he didn't mention it.

"Nakamura Kuroda, at your service." He bowed theatrically, grinning like a loon. Quinn cracked a small smile at his antics. I nudged him with my hip.

"So, how was day two?" I asked.

"Less boring. The teacher had me do some private composition to see how good I was," he said.

"Let me guess. Your teacher was so shocked they couldn't speak for a full minute?"

"Three minutes."

I laughed at that. "Good job. Keep up the great work and soon all I'll be known as is Quinn Catearro's sister." Quinn nudged me back with his elbow. That's when Kuroda decided to speak up.

"I've gotta go. I'm meeting some friends to hang out. You guys can join us if want." I took one look at Quinn, who was pleading no with his eyes, and shook my head.

"We still need to finish unpacking at home."

Kuroda smiled. "Have fun with that." He waved to us and walked back the way we'd come, Quinn and I turning in the opposite direction. I hadn't lied about needing to unpack – somehow, within two years, we'd managed to accumulate a rather large amount of possessions.

Not to mention I had the feeling that these friends of Kuroda's including one Yagami Light. That, if nothing else, was a big enough deterrent on its own.

"Are you still annoyed with the uniform?" Quinn asked as we walked. I couldn't help but chuckle, remembering our morning conversation.

"Quinn, how do I look?"

"Why do you sound so depressed?"

"Because this skirt is something an American prostitute would wear."

"Oh."

"I've gotten used to it. I refuse to wear the thigh high socks, though."

"Good. Granny Hiro wouldn't want you to."

"True. She'd say they're indecent, wouldn't she."

"Mm hmm."

We walked the rest of the way home in silence where I changed out of my uniform into paint-splattered jeans and asked Quinn if he wanted to come with me to the supermarket for groceries. He ripped off a page of manuscript paper and scribbled on it.

"This is all I want," he said, passing me the paper and returning to plucking at his guitar. I ruffled his hair, knowing that he loved it despite his protests, and left to the supermarket. Maybe tonight we'd finally have something culturally accurate.

Sunday was spent unpacking, painting and watching the news anxiously as more and more criminals dropped dead due to heart attacks. Quinn had no idea why whenever there was news of a death I would tense up and quickly sit down in front of the television, waiting to hear more. Neither of us had ever been that interested in the affairs of the world but now . . . there was no way I could ignore these deaths when I knew how they were happening. And who was causing them.

On Monday Hisashi-sensei surprised me with an offer of helping with the lunchtime tutoring classes. I accepted immediately, happy to do more art anywhere I could. To my question of why, she smiled in a knowing way and said, "I thought you would like to have something to do during lunch." Then she laughed. "Plus, you're so good at painting, who wouldn't want to learn from you?"

"You've only seen two of my paintings, though," I countered.

"And from what I've seen, you can do better in fifteen minutes than what a lot of my students can do in fifteen days. They should learn from someone who is their age and so talented."

I looked at the picture I'd drawn that day, of a bronze coloured skeleton, and conceded that she was right when compared to the drawings of the others. They were good, to be sure, but only a few held the same amount of intensity that the skeleton did.

I left the art room, still buzzing about being able to help out with the art lessons, and almost didn't notice that my homeroom was occupied when I walked in.

"Ah, Minerva. How has your day been?" asked Light, leaning casually against my desk. I stopped in my tracks and for the first time that day I fully observed him, rather than quickly looking away after catching him in my periphery.

He looked . . . skeletal. He had obviously lost weight, his hair was duller, his eyes less bright. There was a tenseness to his shoulders that hadn't been there before and his fingers tapped on the side of my table. Now I knew where I'd gotten the skeleton idea from.

"Fine," I said. In keeping with the pretense of cordiality, I went on to say, "Hisashi-sensei asked me to help with the lunch time tutoring sessions for art."

"Is that one of your paintings there?" He gestured to the canvas I held under my arm. It was positioned in such a way that he couldn't see the bronze skeleton on its surface.

"A drawing, actually. I didn't have any inspiration to paint today." That was patently untrue but I wasn't about to tell him that. "How have classes been for you? I've heard you're aiming for To-Oh." Light raised an eyebrow. "Mikoto likes to keep an eye on her fellow students."

He laughed good-naturedly and held out a hand. "May I see it?" I hesitated just a moment before deciding it would do more harm than good to retain the skeletal picture. His expression was one of perfect interest, not showing the slightest hint of understanding the true nature of the drawing.

"Rather . . . morbid subject matter," he commented at length.

"In more than one way," I replied. The corner of his mouth twitched down and he handed back the canvas. With his hands in his pockets, he once more lent on my desk and considered me, his stare probing. I paid him no attention as I walked past him to grab my school books and rearrange my bag to carry the extra material. As soon as I was done the bag handle was snatched from my grasp.

"Shall I walk you home?" he asked, almost the exact replica of himself four days ago. Reluctantly, I nodded.

As we walked towards the middle school, my mind was a blur with all the possible reasons he was doing something so innocuous. Was he waiting to drag me into an alleyway to kill me, interrogate me, or worse? Was he trying to get on my good side for whatever convoluted scheme he had come up with?

The horrible idea of him trying to get to Quinn made itself known and I clenched my jaw. Any attempt at harming my little brother would result in extreme retaliation on my part.

The head of blonde hair became visible soon enough and I almost had to stop myself from grabbing Quinn by the arm and running all the way to the apartment. Instead I smiled cordially, introduced them officially and we were on our way, Quinn shooting Light the occasional suspicious look but otherwise ignoring them. Light kept up a shallow stream of chatter, asking about how classes were going, what I thought of Japan and other seemingly meaningless questions. Through it all the one thing I concentrated on was his voice and how it was colder than I remembered.

To my misfortune, Light had managed to wedge himself between Quinn and I and Quinn's reaction time wasn't fast enough to stop me from tripping up on an uneven piece of pavement. Light grabbed my arm in time to avoid me skinning my knees but I managed to knock my bag off his shoulder. The contents of the bag and my drawing fell to the ground. Each of us bent to collect everything together before the endless surge of pedestrians could crush it. Quinn hastily slipped on my bag, pushed my drawing into my hands and pulled me to my feet just as Light was offering a hand. I noticed, to my shame, that he held my history book in the other.

Oh gosh. The flip art from Friday.

"Thank you," I said, waiting for him to hand it back. He smirked and opened to the first page. My mouth dropped open at the open invasion of privacy. The shock quickly turned to mortification as he fanned the pages, watching the thumb-sized caricature of himself become a 17th century teakettle. He evaded my attempts to snatch the book and started off down the street. Quinn and I shared a look and hurried after him.

"Interesting," he said. I tried to make my nervous swallow as inaudible as possible. He still noticed. "Can I ask what prompted you to cartoonise me in such a way? This was done on Friday, wasn't it? After we came back from the courtyard." Quinn kept his eyes on me, his arms held away from himself as though he wanted nothing more than to jump up and snatch the book from Light's hands. I'd shown him to cartoon on Saturday.

"I, uh . . ." I wracked my brains for something not-stupid to say. "You know what they say. First impressions are always the most impacting." Damn it.

"So when we first met your strongest impression was that I was a teapot?"

"No!"

"Really? Then what was it?"

"It was, uhm, that . . ." This was terrible. The words 'well you're a murderer now so what does it matter?' were heavy on my lips but I couldn't say that with Quinn almost connected to my hip. Plus insulting someone I was almost certain was a mass murderer didn't seem like a good idea.

"Your hair looks like flat copper wires," Quinn spoke up. "Like a busted trombone horn. I've seen one once and it was like a peeled back banana peel."

Thank the Lord for little brothers, I thought. Then, Quinn just got himself killed without even knowing!

Light must have seen my look of abject horror for he hooked his arm through mine, pressed the history book into my palms and whispered, "We need to talk." I nodded quickly and drew away, entering our apartment building holding Quinn tightly around the shoulders.

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"That. Him. What's his deal?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Quinn stared at me suspiciously, placed his tea towel on the counter and went to his room without a word. I sighed as soon as the door closed and pressed my forehead to the cold granite.

Those burning eyes stared back at me from the canvas by the window.

Tuesday went past without incident, with Light and I conversing when we both noticed the looks we were getting from Kuroda before school. It was disturbingly easy to fall back into that rhythm we had created on Friday, with Kuroda and Light talking about exams and mid-terms and girls. I would speak up when it was called for. Then they turned onto the topic of the heart-attack killings sweeping the nation and occasional targets internationally and I found myself almost gasping in relief when the Maths teacher entered.

Lunch saw me helping out with the art tutoring session. Word travelled fast through the school and according to Hisashi-sensei many of the students who showed up had never been before. With that weighing heavily on my shoulders, I followed Hisashi-sensei's lead and commented on and criticised portraits, landscapes, still-lifes, abstracts and whatever other projects the students were working on. By the end of lunch I found myself wanted to hide in my bedroom. Having attention cast on me was nerve-wracking at the best of times.

I escaped straight away after school on Tuesday, took a sullen Quinn home and finally made him self-saucing pudding for dessert. It was a welcome sight to see him smile at me after a near twenty-four hours of indifference.

Wednesday came and went with a massive storm and I managed to avoid Light after school again somehow and then it was Thursday.

And along came the thing.

I walked into class on Thursday and stopped. Blinked. Stared at the massive creature skulking behind Light's desk like some demonic shadow. A strangled gasp came out of my throat and Light's eyes met mine. Widened.

With shaking, teetering steps, I left the room and stumbled to the courtyard, unable to comprehend what my perfect memory was telling me.

The mutated body. The twisted, almost bat-like wings. The grimace of a smile and those giant, lifeless eyes. All combined with the frightening look of triumph on Light's face compounded with the word I'd heard over and over last night.

Kira. Kira. Kira.

"Minerva!" I fell onto the bench where we had first sat, head in my hands and trying not to let the horrified sobs out.

"Minerva," he said again, his shoes coming into view as well as the shadow of that creature. I shuddered.

"What is it?"

"A death god. A Shinigami. The original owner of the notebook." His voice was as clinical as the smell of antiseptic in a hospital. Overpowering. Smothering. Emotionless.

"Why is it here?"

"He's here to watch me. When I die, he'll write my name down in his notebook."

"He? It has a gender now?" I glanced up to see Light's concerned face mere inches from mine. I frowned at him but the false sympathy he projected didn't disappear. Now if only the supernatural being of death could leave and this would almost be like a friend comforting someone in the throes of a panic attack.

Something in Light's expression cleared and he leaned back. "Come with me. It's best we talk about this at my home."

"Light? Is that you?" came a motherly voice from the depths of Light's home. We were in suburbian Tokyo, under the premise of my falling ill and Light taking me home. Light took his shoes off at the entrance and gestured for me to do the same.

"Yeah, Mum," he called. A kind face appeared around the corner of the hallway, polite confusion clouding her smile.

"Oh? Who's this?" For a moment I almost thought she was referring to the hulking beast behind us before I remembered that we were the only ones who could see him. My feeling of entrapment grew stronger.

"This is a friend from school, Catearro Minerva. She wasn't feeling well but she forgot her keys so I offered to bring her home until her brother is finished for the day." I could have laughed at how easy it was for Light to lie to his mother but instead I stepped forwards, bowing at the waist.

"It's wonderful to meet you," I said.

"Yagami Sachiko." She bowed in return. "You must be the exchange student Light has been talking about. I believe my daughter Sayu is the year above your younger brother."

"She attends Daikoku Middle School as well?"

"She's at Eishu Academy," said Light. "She didn't want to be known as 'Light's little sister'."

"I see," I replied, raising an eyebrow at his casual arrogance. He smirked back and told his mother we would be in his room.

"Of course. I'll bring you a snack soon."

"Don't worry. We still have our lunches."

Sachiko let us go easily, giving me another bright smile and wandering into the kitchen as Light led me upstairs into the darker floor of the house. I hunched my shoulders, trying to escape the claustrophobia creeping in with every second those dead eyes drilled into the back of my head.

"Here we are," Light said, opening a door and gesturing me inside. I walked in and stood awkwardly by the windows, cataloguing the perfectly made bed, the immaculate desk and his small library of classics and textbooks. Light pulled out the desk chair and the creature made itself comfortable on the bed, not a crease appearing on the coverlet.

"So, Minerva, meet Ryuk."

"Hi there," it said. There was a long moment of silence before I offered up a shaky, "Hello." Light frowned.

"Are you scared?"

I was startled into a laugh that was more of a bark. "No, of course not. I meet creepy, supernatural beings of death every other week."

The thing – Ryuk – spoke up. "Yeah, like you can talk, Light. You screamed when you saw me last night."

"He did?" I asked before I could stop myself. It laughed, like sandpaper on metal.

"He fell off his chair! Then he started monologuing about how he was ready to die and everything." The thought of it sent Ryuk into hysterical laughter and he began to twist unnaturally, his spine curving at an angle that would break a human's. A spike of fear shot through me and suddenly I couldn't be in the room anymore. Almost running, I made for the door.

A hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I ground to a halt seconds from banging into his wooden door.

"Let go of me," I said, nerves making my voice waver. Ryuk started to laugh harder. Light scowled in his direction which did nothing to stop the Shinigami. Sighing deeply, he pulled me to him, my weak legs almost sending me into his lap. For a few seconds he did nothing but stare. I closed my eyes, telling myself that there wasn't anything on the bed, in moments I would be on my way home to ignore that this ever happened and I could continue to detach myself from the reality of Light Yagami's murderous habits.

"Ryuk is right. You're very accepting of all this," he spoke up.

"Let me go."

"Why?"

"Let me go."

"Have you met other Shinigami before?"

"Let me go!" I ripped my arm from his grasp and groped for the door handle. Just as my fingertips touched the cool steel, I was yanked back by my shirt and thrown onto the bed. I went straight through the Shinigami.

Two sets of eyes leered at me, one black and the other brown, both with something inhuman flickering in their depths. I found myself more afraid of Light at that moment.

Kira.

"Please, please, just let me leave." I pushed myself up but Light immediately grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back. He was too close. Much too close. His breath ghosted over my skin. It smelt of apples.

"I can't. You know too much."

"I won't tell, I promise I won't." I have to get out of here. It's too much. Too soon. Quinn, where are you?

"Ryuk, lock the door." Ryuk floated over and locked it with one taloned finger. The show of tangibility made the situation that much worse. "When I let go you are not allowed to run. Otherwise I'll be forced to do something I'd rather not."

"What are you going to do? Write my name in your notebook?" I hissed.

His calm was unflappable. "Maybe." My breath caught in my throat.

He let go and sat back on the chair, Ryuk at his side. I pushed myself back until I hit the headboard and clutched my bag to my chest like a shield. Light rested his head on his palm and looked at me as though I was a disappointing pet.

"What are we going to do with you, Minerva?" he mused.

"Let me go. I won't breathe a word to anyone. Who would believe me anyway?"

"I already said that isn't an option. Someone who knows about me and also Ryuk is too much of a liability without proper control."

"Control? You're going to put a leash on me like a dog?"

"I have to do whatever is necessary. To become God I can't have someone standing in my way."

"God?" I must have misheard. "You want to become God?" The blasphemy was almost too much for me to handle. Light spread his hands.

"This power has been given to me, Minerva. Only I can use it for its proper purpose. To cleanse the world of evil so that only those good and kind remain, the ones who deserve to live with peace and security."

My mouth fell open. Ryuk was chuckling again. "You are insane," I murmured. "You honestly think that a human being with a notebook can take the place of the omnipotent, omniscient God? Light, you can't possibly think that you have enough power to do so. And you think humanity wants to be ruled over by some kid with a pen who makes them live in fear every day? What sort of world would that be!?"

"Only those who commit crimes need fear. Everyone else is safe."

"Who are you to judge what is a crime or not? Who are you to discover each and every evil of this world? You can't do this! You're human! You have human emotions; resentment, anger, jealousy! Your standards are warped by what you have grown up in and so who are you to judge everyone else by them!?"

"I am God. Already people speak my name with reverence. The world is a better place for me doing this."

"Give me the notebook."

"What?"

"Give me the notebook. Now. Let me see who you have killed, who you have 'judged' to be unworthy."

"No."

"Give it to me!" I lunged forward and snatched for his bag where I had time and again seen the black cover poking out. He lifted it up out of my reach but I wasn't to be stopped. Before he could react, I stood on his bed and jumped at him. He yelped and let go of the bag to wrap his arms around my waist, leaving me perfectly able to grab the Death Note as the bag fell to the ground. I grinned in triumph, before realising just how compromising the situation we were in was.

"That was needlessly dramatic," he said, glaring, his nose almost touching mine. He dropped me to the floor with a heavy thump. I danced away, fingers firmly clamped over the strange leather. Ryuk watched on in interest. Swallowing, I opened to the first page and nearly dropped it. Dozens of names covered the page, some of them recognisable as those who had been recorded killed by Kira. The next five pages held the same, each of them boasting nothing but names, unlike the 'accidental death' of Shibuimaru Takuo. So many of them I remembered by their exposition on the television, but many more were unknowns. It was horrific to think of how many were still dying without the public aware.

I looked up and saw the young, handsome face of the creature that was the mind behind such atrocities. A scowl firmly set in place, I reached into my pocket and withdrew my lighter, a momento of a time long past.

Immediately I was knocked back onto the bed, Light struggling to rip the lighter from my grasp. For a few frantic seconds we struggled, until the natural strength he gained from simply being male won out and I was pinned.

"If you ever do that again, I won't hesitate to kill you," he said, panting, his hair dishevelled and brushing my cheek. I breathed in deeply, then stopped when our chests touched.

"Get off," I said quietly. He smirked and for a second I thought he might just lean closer. Then he shifted and rolled off, landing on the floor with perfect ease. Slowly, hesitantly, I sat up. The lighter and notebook were in his hands.

"So, Minerva." He flipped the lighter over and over. "I bet you have some questions."

It took a moment for me to grab one from the whirlwind spiralling through my mind. Eventually I settled on, "How can I see him?" Ryuk's ever present grin widened so every single one of his shark teeth was exposed.

"You touched the notebook. Anyone who touches the notebook can see me," replied Ryuk, amusement threaded through his voice.

"Is anything going to happen to me because I can?"

He laughed, glancing sideways at Light who was examining the lighter. "Not because of me."

Outside the window it started to rain. I gazed at the grey haze covering the city and wondered if I was ever going to escape this.

Light put my lighter in his bottom drawer and sat at his desk, pen poised over his history book as he turned on the television.

Eyes glassy, I hugged my bag again and settled in to wait until the end of school.

"Time for you to go." Light turned off the television, placed the Death Note in his bag and grabbed his blazer off the back of his chair. I didn't move, pencil still tracing the lines of some figure I couldn't quite comprehend. Light took my sketchbook from me and studied the drawings inside as I gathered my things and stood up. It was still raining. My bag wasn't waterproof.

"Here," Light tossed me a raincoat which hung off my frame. Giving back the sketchbook, he went downstairs and told Sachiko we were leaving. Ryuk hovered along behind as I trailed after him.

The journey home was quiet. Light only broke the silence to have me text Quinn instructions to go home ahead.

When we reached my street, after a good forty-five minute walk, he finally deigned to begin a conversation. Well, more of an interrogation.

"You will not tell anyone." I shook my head. "We can only discuss this at my house."

I sullenly replied, "Why would I discuss this at all?" I want to be as far away from you and your murderous head as possible.

He must have seen my thoughts in my expression because his hand grasped mine. "We will keep up a front of being friends at school. Make no mistake. We can't have anyone believing something has happened."

"Even though something has happened?"

"Yes."

"Great. So I'll just smile, laugh prettily and all the while try not to think about the fact that you are a cold-hearted slaughterer by night?"

He sighed in frustration and let go to rake a hand through his hair, the other one occupied by an umbrella. The bronze flopped back on his forehead, ruffled and lifeless. On closer inspection it was obvious how far he'd fallen in less than a week. There were heavy bags under his eyes, his fingers twitched when he thought I wasn't looking and his whole demeanour spoke of mental turmoil. For all his professions of becoming 'God', his human body was rejecting wielding such power.

"Light," I said. He spared me a quick look out the corner of his eye. Bracing myself, I spoke my mind. "You are going to die if you keep doing this. Not from Ryuk. Someone will find out and they won't stand for it. Someone with power, legal power. And when that happens that notebook won't be enough to keep you safe."

He chuckled and his knuckles brushed mine. I don't know if he even felt himself do it. It was like he was trying to ground himself somehow.

He murmured to himself. I only caught one word.

"Queen."

TOWRTA: First chapter length = total fluke. Last story I wrote the chapters were 3000 words at most. I guess this one may oscillate between lengths but it should generally stay around 6000.

Question to the readers: Do you prefer long chapters and longer times between updates and less chapters in total, or shorter chapters with closer updates and more chapters in total? I'll tailor it to your specifications.

The pace starts to pick up a bit more from here.

Review if you feel so inclined. It will be nice to hear your thoughts and know your theories on what's going to happen.

Next chapter: meet the Yagami family!