"Boredom, anger, sadness, or fear are not 'yours,' not personal. They are conditions of the human mind. They come and go. Nothing that comes and goes is you."

~Eckhart Tolle

A stale, droning voice filled the room, hollow words echoing throughout the normal, boring classroom.

The teacher lectured, the students drifted off, and Light was in his own little world. There was no need to pay attention, to waste his precious time hearing the man babble to a crowd of people with closed ears and self-concerned minds.

He knew it all. Every. Single. Word.

It was because he'd read the textbooks more than once, he'd studied for entrance exams more than once, he'd heard this

more

than

once.

With every second, he felt as if he were sinking deeper and deeper into his own universe, reality slowly becoming dull to his senses as the curtain of apathy falls down around him. Perhaps a bit dramatic, yes, but–

He wondered if this is what life would be like. The rest of it, that is.

Every day felt like he was sleepwalking.

This was rotten. The whole thing.

Was there nothing more to having a meaningful life than getting straight A's and a decent salary? Working a nine to five and coming home to a wife and two kids? That's what the world seemed to think. That's all they ever seemed to think, those people he surrounded himself with, patting him on the back for his latest test scores and thanking him for his politeness– his intelligence– his help–

He wrinkled his nose at the thought. Cynical as ever, Light reaffirmed a belief he'd always had and would continue to hold until humanity proves itself better:

This world is rotten.

It was only a small black speck in the corner of his vision that brought him back to reality.

Light Yagami blinked a few times, just to let the real world set in. He turned his head to the side, looking for the tiny object that had pulled him out of his weary trance.

His eyes scanned the courtyard for the speck, and he finally found the item-of-desire. It looked like a book. A plain black book that was falling from the sky.

How peculiar.

He leaned over a bit to see the dark book that had abruptly fallen, not caring about the odd stares that came his way. A few of them started to snigger, a sound that grated on his nerves and pushed him one step closer towards asking to leave for the restroom for an escape.

Although his popularity had proved itself to be a good thing now and again, invisibility would always be the more precious commodity of the two.

There would be fewer annoyances to deal with.

"Yagami," a voice called. He ignored it, trying to get a better view of the book.

The book landed in the courtyard of his school, going completely unnoticed by the other inhabitants of the room. His staring continued, undeterred.

"Yagami," the voice commanded, even sterner than before.

He reluctantly pried his eyes away from the interesting item and made eye contact with the harried teacher. The older man's eyebrows were peaked, somewhat put off from Light's resistant behavior.

Yes, Light remembers. He must be polite. He must be obedient.

He must play along in this game of life. But–

Don't you feel the same, Sensei? It's the same thing, day in and day out, for everyone. Isn't it boring?

No. No. That was too optimistic. Light remembered that the world doesn't work that way.

Boys are lit up by false hope, old men by the comforts of routine and stagnation. Everyone in between is drifting.

Just drifting.

"Sorry, Sensei," Light apologized, returning to his seat and crossing his arms. He continued, politely and with a smidge of concern mixed within his words, "I thought I saw something fall."

Not quite a lie, and not quite the truth. Perfect.

"Yes, well, please read this section of the textbook that I've written on the board," the teacher replied inattentively, turning his attention to the other students now. Even he was getting bored by this, all of it.

Don't you want it all to change?

"Yes, sir."

Light stood up and began reciting the English scripture from the textbook without any difficulty. Even though he was focused on reading, he couldn't help but think of the odd book. It was just so… strange; it was stuck to the back of his mind like glue.

Maybe after class. Maybe something different.

That feeling lingered within Light for the rest of the day, fueling him just a bit further, just enough–

Somewhere, far away, a death god laughed. Hook, line, and sinker.

It didn't take long for the bell to ring, dismissing Light from his classes for the day. He buzzed with energy, invigorated by the possibility of a mystery.

Just anything to take his mind off of the monotony.

Although he seemed like a diligent, hard-working person, Light was truly glad that he was quickly on his way out of the school system. Day after day, the same routine in an environment of self-obsessed teens and half-paid teachers. Nobody wanted to be there, and that included him. It was all pointless–

A waste of time if anything.

An internal feeling of longing resounded through his body. Only a few hours of cram school and he wouldn't have to sit through a teacher's lecture and those grating whispers for the rest of the weekend.

He made a beeline straight towards the courtyard, making sure to not bump into the rude teenagers that he loathed to call his peers. Finally, out of the stuffy building, his eyes zeroed in on the book from earlier.

Light walked towards the black book, ignoring the giggling teenage girls that were gawking at him. Idiots. Once he was towering over the odd notebook, he bent over and picked it up, purposely overlooking the fact that the girls were still staring at him intently.

He took a quick glance around and then focused his attention on the black hard-cover notebook. He quickly brushed off some dirt and grass that had managed to cling to the leather cover, despite the jejune texture of the book.

The title read "Death Note" in silver lettering that greatly contrasted the ebony black cover. As he ran his fingers over the title, he found that the letters dipped into the book, a small indication of its unusual quality given the rather strange choice of a name.

He looked up from the notebook and gave another look-around, making sure that nobody was watching over him. To his delight, the gaggle of girls that had been ogling him earlier was headed out the courtyard. Swiftly opening it, he was met with the inner cover, which was titled "Death Note: How To Use It" in the same odd font as earlier. With another page turn, he encountered pages upon pages of blank lined paper.

It's just a notebook.

But it wouldn't hurt to investigate…

His attention drifting back to the cover, he read the very first bullet on the leather-bound page. The further he read into the page, the more skeptical he became of the legitimacy of the book itself. After all, rules about a notebook that could kill people? Ludicrous.

Just a prank.

After reading through the instructions, he was close to deciding to place the book back down onto the ground. It was a prank, he was sure of it.

Yet…

There was a chance, a small chance, that this was real.

And he wasn't ready to let one of his irresponsible peers have it.

That would be stupid.

Light prides himself on not being stupid, especially in comparison to his classmates.

He subtly slid the book into his messenger bag, making sure to shut the latch on top after. Whatever this was, whether it was a harmless joke or a tool that could end the world, he had to investigate. It wasn't a choice.

It was simply his nature.

The door to the Yagami household closed quietly, accompanied by hurried footsteps up the stairs and to the second floor.

Light wasn't willing to make small talk with his mother at the moment, even if it was out of the ordinary for his family persona. He had one, and only one, priority: to figure out whether or not this book was actually what it claimed to be.

Once he met with his bedroom door, he took out the long stick of pencil lead that was between the door and the doorframe, lying snugly on the hinge of the door, and hastily entered the room. He immediately fished through his bag and pulled out the dark notebook, clutching it tightly within his palm as if it were about to float away.

He then tossed his messenger bag onto his bed and moved towards the desk in the corner of his bland, colorless room. He sat down with vigor and set the notebook on the desk, directly facing him. For a while, he just stared at the object. Waiting as if it would suddenly do something unexpected.

Something. Anything.

Nothing happened.

Impatience mustering up inside him, Light carefully prodded the notebook with his index finger, expecting the item to perhaps make a sound or pop out confetti.

Anything to make it seem like a harmless prank.

Yet, nothing happened.

He exhaled deeply and finally gave up on trying to get an obvious response from the supposed "Death Note." Instead, he yanked open the drawer of his desk and stuffed the black book into it.

Trying to keep his mind off of the book, Light flicked on the television and was immediately greeted with an anxious and frightened voice.

Ah, news. A constant stream of crisis after crisis.

He turned up the volume.

A harried reporter screamed into the microphone, "The same assailant who attacked six people at a busy shopping district in Shinjuku yesterday has struck again, taking eight people hostage at this daycare center! His captives include both… children and teachers. The police have now identified the suspect as forty-two-year-old Kurou Otoharada. We expect negotiations to begin immediately for the eight hostages!"

It was a pity. A frown adorned Light's previously neutral expression. His eyes met with those of the criminal being shown on screen and down to the drawer in which he had shut the odd book. He quietly stared at the handle of the drawer, his inner conscious clashing between the choice of opening it or not.

It's wrong to use it if it's real, he chided himself.

His hand retracts calmly towards his lap.

But it could be interesting.

He suddenly reached back toward the handle, opened the drawers, seized the notebook, and grabbed a pen from the pencil holder on the desk. He quickly flipped open the cover and put the tip of the pen on the paper.

If the notebook were actually candid in its nature, then the criminal would die within 40 seconds of him writing the name down. If the man died, the hostages inside the building would be saved. If the notebook wasn't real, then nothing would happen, and Light would be absolutely sure that he could dispose of it without worrying about who may find it or how they would use it.

Either way, someone would benefit from the end product of this experiment.

Light wrote the man's name, being absolutely sure to glance at the man's face between each stroke of kanji. After embellishing the last stroke, he placed the pen back onto the desk and sat back in his chair, watching the screen with intent.

Only 40 seconds until something would happen. Or not.

Light was certain that nothing would happen; he continued to watch with an assured smirk on his face.

Common sense was on his side. After all, in what world do death notebooks exist?

The seconds ticked by, each one seeming longer and longer as the moment of truth marched closer. After 40 seconds passed, the reporter continued to keep the audience updated about the situation at hand, mostly rehashing the information he had given earlier in different ways. Light's sneer grew only larger.

He had known that it wouldn't work.

After all, he had never been wrong before.

Why would he be now?

Suddenly, the man on the screen stopped speaking, his hand placed securely behind his ear. He spoke only a few words while a small crowd of people suddenly started to bustle out of the daycare center's front doors and into the safety of the police's barricades.

Light's smirk faded, instead replaced by a troubled grimace and an equally terrified gleam in his eyes.

Kurou Otoharada perished from a heart attack, only 40 seconds after his name was written in the notebook.

This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:

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Questions

Well, Light didn't quite expect that, did he? Is he going to fall into the same pitfall of using the Death Note again?