Stupidity combined with arrogance and a huge ego will get you a long way.

~Chris Lowe

The seconds ticked by slowly as Light gradually backed away from the small television, staring at the Death Note in absolute mortification.

You did this. You wanted this. You killed a man.

That chastising voice berated him, eerily similar to his own.

Yes, he did. His hands were now bloodied. Maybe. But–

It broke routine– it… it

It was fun, different.

He let out an exhale and came back to his senses.

He gently approached the desk with prudence and with a trembling hand, he turned off the still blaring TV. In a troubled trance, Light gingerly picked up the notebook and approached his bed, taking a seat on the cushiony apparatus. He could only stare at the name he had inscribed in the book, the only semblance of any written script inside the entire book.

He had just killed a man, out of simple human curiosity. Interesting…

Though, this feeling disgusted him to his core. To do something so narrow-minded, so impulsively… it was unthinkable in his eyes.

But in another way, he had also been correct for doing what he did.

Under utilitarian terms, he was a hero, he had saved the hostages' lives by having to kill only one person. However, under deontologist terms, he was a monster, and taking a life was an unacceptable way to solve the problem. He was utterly conflicted, unsure what to truly think of his actions.

He wanted to believe that he was right, to know that he was right.

He had saved lives, dozens and dozens of lives in exchange for the existence of one sleazy, greedy criminal. How wrong could it be to take someone like that off the face of the Earth? Especially since it allowed many others to continue to be honest, hardworking people.

Even then, what if it hadn't been him that caused the death?

Yes, it could have been an extremely unusual coincidence.

The man might have had an already deteriorating health and it could have been the tension of the situation that finally set him over the edge. It would make a lot more sense that this happened instead; using a magical death notebook to kill someone seemed far removed from reality.

The latter seemed highly unlikely compared to the normal explanation.

Regardless, he felt the need to test the item again, to make sure that it wouldn't cause any harm. He couldn't kill someone innocent, that's for sure. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself for killing those who've done nothing.

Why do you lie to yourself? You know that's not the real reason why you want to do it again.

You don't care about saving lives or killing innocents.

It was just too much–

Just as he was getting ready to silence that inner voice, he was jolted with a sudden noise from downstairs:

"Light, it's six-thirty and you have cram school tonight!" his mother screamed, making her presence known for the first time since he arrived home.

He blinked owlishly and looked at the analog clock on his bedside table. True to his mother's word, the clock read six-thirty. He hadn't realized that he was in his room for so long. He got up from the bed and stuck his head outside of his bedroom door.

"I'll be down in a minute," he called down the stairs, instantly going back into his room to gather his supplies. Packing various books and sheets of paper into his messenger bag, he finished quickly and gathered his wits together. He hastily moved towards the door to exit. As his hand hovered above the doorknob, he looked back at the demonic notebook on his bead.

A thought arose.

This was his chance to find a situation to really 'test' the notebook out, to make sure that it wasn't just coincidence.

Or maybe to make sure that it was a coincidence.

He wasn't quite sure which situation he wanted to be true, but he just had to test it out again. Just to make sure.

As if.

He quickly marched back to the cot and swiped the black notebook from the sheets, tucking it deep into the heart of his messenger bag. As he left the house, quickly saying a curt "Goodbye" to his Mother, he kept his hand clutched onto the ebony leather-bound book.

This will be interesting.

Light's fingers silently danced along the edge of the wooden desk as he was anxiously awaiting the end of class. His experiment was approaching closer by the second, and he could hardly contain that curious spirit that arose in him every once in a while.

At first, he spent his time concentrating on the work assigned, doing meticulous work on each question. As usual, he finished far earlier than his peers and was left to wait for the end of the lesson. It was a long, painstaking twenty minutes, but it worked to keep up appearances.

Finally, he was dismissed from the stale classroom. As he walked out, he noticed one of his classmates bullying another for money. The thought of using the notebook flashed through his mind, but he immediately denied the idea. It would be foolish to kill someone for something so little.

Not to mention that it would attract unwanted attention to himself.

No, he needed a target that couldn't be connected to him, one that he could just stumble upon and kill without leaving any strings attached.

He needed to go out and look for criminals, regardless of how much of a bad idea that was in theory.

He passed through the front doors of the cram school after a few minutes of mindless walking in circles around the block. The person he saw being mugged for cash earlier was on the phone, angrily yelling at his mother. It was quite incredible how people could exchange positions on a whim. The victim becomes the aggressor, the cycle repeats.

He stood at a crossway, able to go either right or left. There was an equal chance of finding a criminal in either direction, so he shrugged and started to walk to the right of the cram school, the route he usually took to get home.

Then he paused, only for a second. Why not go left?

Perhaps it was because he knew the route home well and there was a good chance that he would subconsciously avoid criminals in alleyways and dark streets. Perhaps it was because he knew that he was more likely to encounter criminals in a place unknown to him.

Perhaps his sense of self-preservation was finally kicking in.

Regardless of the circumstance, he decided to trust his gut instinct. When has he ever been wrong? His instinct was trustworthy, dependable.

Better.

He pivoted on his heels and began walking in the other direction, being vigilant for any crime afoot. His right hand slithered into the messenger bag, once again grasping the Death Note selfishly. He was ready to pull it out on a whim, the moment he found anything suspicious.

Now all he had to do was continue walking and find someone deserving of a death sentence. Though, in a world like this–

He supposed it would be easy.

The streets were completely barren, devoid of any life whatsoever, Light being the only exception. He had been strolling around the city for about two hours now, his long disappearance most likely causing his mother alarm. He wasn't concerned about getting home quite yet but vowed that he would return to his home in an hour, regardless of whether or not he had the results he was searching for.

Light sighed in annoyance as he turned another dark street corner, no sign of crime in the dimly lit road.

The longer he spent searching for a potential-felon, the more likely he was to be the victim of that potential-crime. By now, the only people awake were either people with night-shifts, low-life drunkards, and criminals: the fruit of his quest. Unfortunately, the only criminals that seemed to be out were either loiterers or noise polluters.

Not much help to his cause.

He continued down the dismal road, keeping a keen eye out for any movement in the shadows. The buzzing of the florescent lights was beginning to get to him.

At this point, he ought to walk up to a drunkard and use their ID to get done with this.

But that's unjust, and it goes against everything his father believed in.

Light couldn't do that; he liked to believe he had principles.

The occasional drip of liquid from the sewers below caused him to cringe, setting off that fight or flight instinct that he was desperately trying to latch down. He was in a sensitive state of mind, ready to snap out the deadly book at the first thing that moved in his peripheral vision.

He moved closer to the left of the sidewalk, hugging closer to the buildings and intricate alleyways in between them, occasionally stopping in his tracks to survey his surroundings. He continued this mundane process for another ten minutes until suddenly, a hand appeared in front of his face as he walked in front of an entrance of a dark, well-hidden alley.

The hand suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him closer to the hand's owner, and a strange man latched his arm around Light's neck, putting him into a chokehold. With a surprisingly strong grip, the assailant started dragging him farther and farther into the winding passage of the alleyway. He fought against the person's grip, shoving his feet into the ground while trying to gain some semblance of traction on the pavement floor. His efforts were to no avail, the man's strength was nearly inhuman.

The movement began to slow down, the flickering of the street lights long gone, only to be replaced by the dim moonlight and the air filled with his own heavy, strangled breathing and sputtering. The assailant was virtually silent, barely making any semblance of noise as he silently progressed further into the seemingly endless alleyway.

From the angle Light was being dragged at, he could make out a few details of the man's appearance, mainly the silver hair that was sticking out on the sides of the man's head and the hockey mask strapped tightly to his face. Two red orbs glared at him from behind the façade, glowing mysteriously in the murkiness.

They continued on like this for a bit longer, seemingly an eternity for Light. The silver-haired man finally stopped in his sprinting and threw Light onto the ground of the alleyway, immediately putting a heavy foot on top of Light's spine to pin him down against the rough concrete.

"Seems far enough from the main road," a gruff voice emerged from the mask, breaking the silence that he had created, "Nobody can hear a thing, boy. Make any trouble, and you'll be on the receiving sharp end of my favorite wrench."

The criminal got to work immediately, ripping the messenger bag from Light's arms and ravaging through the container while keeping his foot firmly pressed onto Light's lower back.

He was stuck, forced into this predicament. Not a chance of escape.

He could not run away, not with this man literally keeping a foot on top of him. He grimaced as his mind filled with poisonous thoughts. It was partly his fault for landing in this situation, his curiosity leading him to such an unexpected downfall.

In another lens, however, he was not at fault; he was only the victim of a crime and nothing more. It was only by circumstance that he ended up here; he was more likely to find a burglar in the act than be dragged off into an alleyway by a deranged old man.

You were looking for trouble. Don't lie to yourself.

It bewildered him how he could have been this wrong, how his plan of finding another test subject for the Death Note could have backfired so greatly.

Suddenly, his mind went blank, finally connecting the dots and realizing his fatal error.

He had left the notebook that could kill anyone with a name and face inside his bag. His face was clear as day to the masked man, and he had left his ID inside the bag with the Death Note.

He was going to die.

He continued to lay down with bated breath, silently hoping that the masked man would overlook his student ID and he would be spared from a heart attack. It was pointless, he knew that, but he did not want to die without a shred of his dignity left.

He didn't want to accept this fate so easily.

Weren't you bored? Isn't this more interesting?

"Huh," the masked man finally spoke after a minute of tense silence, "Now what do we have here…"

Light clenched his eyes shut, preparing for the worst. His body tensed, prepared for the pain to come. The man began pulling something out of Light's bag, the world moved slowly in those few moments.

"Interesting," the voice spoke. Light braced himself.

This was the end.

It was good while it lasted.

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Questions

Light is a bit of an idiot here, but with (somewhat?) good intentions. Who's the new guy and what's he gonna do with Light?