November 28 th, 2003. Slowly, I underlined it, the line wobbly and dark. It was tomorrow's date—the date Light was supposed to find the Death Note. There were few specific dates that I actually remembered, this being one of them. The other four were December 3rd, 2003, on which Ryuk would show up; January 1st, 2004 (though I wasn't quite sure what happened on that day); November 5th, 2004, the day on which L died; and January 28th, 2010, was supposed to be day Light would die—but it wouldn't be, if I had anything to say about it.

Hopefully, I'd driven Light in a direction in which the idea of using the Death Note would be abhorrent to him, or, if nothing else, I could potentially distract him from the Death Note when it fell.

"Yamada, pay attention in class," the teacher interrupted my thoughts. "Please translate the fifth sentence in paragraph five."

Oh, just translation, then, I thought, doing as I was instructed. I almost considered sighing, but if I wanted to get into To-Oh University, where Light was planning to go, my grades needed to be top of the mark. It was our last year of high school, so I needed to make it count, and if Light did end up getting the Death Note, I'd probably spend a lot less time studying.

Would I? It probably won't really affect me too much, come to think of it. Light never told anyone about the Death Note, and I'm not sure he'd tell me, either. Even though we're close as all hell, knowing Light, he'd probably try to keep anyone he cares about away from it altogether, so it probably won't actually affect me much . . . at least, until L comes into the picture. By then, it's possible—no, it's almost certain that by the time L installs those cameras, he'll find out about me. But, again, this was only if Light ended up getting the Death Note at all. I really, really hope he doesn't, I thought, sighing as the bell that signalled the end of the school day sounded.

"Alright, class, remember to complete the exercises from pages fifty-six to sixty-nine from your textbooks and complete it by Monday. You'll also be getting your results for the national practice exams on Tuesday, so you should make your university decisions accordingly. Your entrance exams are in less than two months." He paused, then, "And you, Yamada, no matter how well you do in class, if you don't fix that habit of yours of spacing out, it's going on your report card. To-Oh University isn't an easy place to get into."

I winced. "Yes, sir . . ." I mumbled as snickers ran through the class, before the teacher turned his attention away from me and began to hound the other students over their respective grades.

I looked back at my notebook at the underlined date and bit my lip. Tomorrow's do or die day.

I hoped it wouldn't be the latter.

That night, it was impossible to sleep. I sat at my desk, pensive, tapping my pen against my lip. As the odds stood, the possibility of the Death Note actually existing were 50-50. The entire time I'd been in this world, I hadn't ever heard so much as an old wives tale concerning strange deaths, heart attacks, or notebooks.

Of course, that didn't really mean anything—as far as I knew, the first person to actually obtain a Death Note in the modern era was supposed to be Light, and Shinigami ordinarily didn't really care about killing humans all that much, only doing it to keep themselves alive. It made sense that I wouldn't have heard anything about it, so it was rather a moot point.

On the other hand, the sheer impossibility of it seemed like a huge factor in the equation. Not a whisper of any myths or strange creatures had ever been mentioned outside of fiction, and everything seemed just the same as my old world had been, with the exceptions of the technology and development that wouldn't take place for another fifteen years. The mere idea of supernatural phenomena such as a Death Note actually existing could be laughed at.

Then again, my entire situation was laughable, too. Dying, then being reborn into a universe which I'd once thought was a cool comic, only to become best friends with the main character? Sounded like the plot of a badly written fanfiction.

But, of course, this wasn't a fanfiction, this was actually happening. So if I could be born in the same universe as Light Yagami, yeah, there was a pretty good chance the Death Note that was supposed this entire world spiralling into chaos would exist too.

So, if it did, how was I supposed to distract Light from it when we weren't even in the same class? I didn't know what time the Death Note would fall, or what would be going on until then—all I knew was that Light was supposed to be staring out the window at just the right time to see it fall from the sky. Maybe if I had the manga with me, I'd be able to work this out easier, I thought glumly, and not for the first time.

What would be a reasonable way to keep Light from looking out of the window during class?

The easiest way would be to just block the window—but that would be nigh impossible to do without raising suspicion. I'd toyed with the idea of putting up a sort of poster earlier, but that would be ridiculous—after all, our school had corkboards in the corridors for that, and placing a poster specifically next to Light's window seat would be plain absurd. I sighed, striking through the words Block the window on my notebook.

Another way to avoid the situation entirely would be to get him out of class around the time the notebook fell, but that would, again, be next to impossible. For one thing, I had no clue when the Death Note would fall, and even if I did, timing it would be ridiculously hard.

The simplest way would, of course, get into trouble, but I couldn't risk ruining Light's and my reputation right when university entrance exams were right around the corner. For another, neither of us were 'problem kids,' so it was most likely that if either of us were caught doing something we shouldn't, it would just be brushed off. If the teachers even bothered to notice, anyway. I struck Get him out of class off of the brainstorm list.

I looked at my third option: Keep him distracted. Well, that one was significantly more reasonable than the other two, but it would still be pretty tough. After all, if Light was paying attention in class, he wouldn't have seen the Death Note fall anyway.

The number one way to keep Light focused on something is to find something that he finds interesting, I figured, but he can solve most puzzles faster than I could even imagine. It'll have to be something that completely stumps him. I tapped my pencil onto my lip, then underlined the words. Of course, it was risky at best, but there was still no guarantee it would keep him from staring out the window.

Finally, I moved to the last option: Get the Death Note before Light/Distract him before he picks it up . Rushing to get the notebook would, of course, be suspicious, but it would absolutely be worth having Light avoid the Death Note. Of course, there was still a chance Light would question it, and perhaps ask what is was if he saw it, but I could pass it off as mere curiosity as to wondering what the note was.

Slowly, I circled the last option. If Light did end up seeing the notebook falling, the very most I could do was to make sure he didn't pick it up . In fact, taking it myself would be the only viable option, now that I thought about it. After all, the Death Note getting into anyone's hands would be dangerous; not just Light's. Most people wouldn't have the forethought to choose someone's name to write, even if they thought it was a prank, and would end up killing someone close to them.

If I had it, I'd know it was real. I could burn the Note, hypothetically, and that would immediately negate any and all consequences that related to the actual storyline, unless Ryuk were to decide that was no fun and drop another Note into our world, but then, it would be out of my hands.

The other option was to keep the Note with me, but not use it and keep Ryuk entertained some other way, which would be hard at best, impossible at worst. Perhaps he would take an interest in shounen manga or Sailor Moon or something.

Either way, crisis averted, right?

Satisfied, I put my pen down, closed my notebook, and found myself drifting off into a dreamless sleep there at my desk.

And at long last, the day I'd been waiting for for almost seventeen years had arrived. This is the day that could change the future, I thought numbly, fidgeting offhandedly as I thought of the riddle I'd give Light to keep him occupied throughout the day. It was something from an old Indian folktale, if I wasn't mistaken, called Vikram aur Betaal, a story about a super-smart Indian king called Vikramaditya who was tasked with bringing an evil spirit that possessed corpses to a magician.

The spirit Betaal, apparently, didn't care to come, but got his jollies from making a fool of people, and told the king that if he talked at any time throughout the journey while carrying Betaal back, the spirit would go back to the graveyard. Betaal then would proceed to tell Vikram a story, then ask him a riddle or question concerning the story he told. If Vikram knew the answer but didn't say it, the spirit would kill him.

Which made it pretty damn hard for Vikram to take him back, considering how smart he was. It wasn't until the twenty-fifth story, to which Vikram actually didn't know the answer to, that he actually managed to get Betaal back.

That was the story I told Light on the way to school, ending it with the riddle. "So if the man married the princess and they had a girl, and his son married the queen and had a boy, what relationship would the children of both couples have to each other?"

Light bit his lip. "Putting aside how remarkably screwed up that entire relationship is . . . well . . ." Light frowned, his mind clearly working at breakneck speeds as he said, "I guess that's about impossible to answer. I mean, the whole setting is complicated. The boy is the half-sibling to the princess, as he's the queen's child, which would make him an uncle to the girl, but on the other hand, the girl's father is the grandfather to the boy, which would make her his aunt."

"Yep, and it's the same vice versa."

"Exactly." Light sighed. "Wouldn't it be easiest to call them cousins, then, since they're the same age?"

I laughed, and I could feel some of the tension relieving itself from the anticipation of what was yet to come. "But that's not how it is, Light!"

"That doesn't make it explicable!" Light protested, frustrated.

I snickered. "You aren't wrong, Light, but it's not the answer. Tell you what, I'll give you until the end of the school day to figure it out."

"It's not solvable!"

"Tick, tock, Yagami."

"Mikko!"

"I can't hear you over the sound of your deadline."

"I don't know why I put up with you."

"Please," I scoffed, "you love me."

A pause. Then, "Yeah."

Then, we both burst into laughter. "See you at lunch on the roof?"

"We aren't allowed on the roof, Mikko," Light just sighed.

"You're not saying no," I pointed out.

"I'm not, am I?" Light grinned. "I got your lunch too, since you obviously didn't make any for yourself." Both of us opted to ignore that maybe Dad should have been helping me out with that.

"I can't cook, Light, and you know that," I countered.

"Unfortunately, I do," Light teased.

I gasped in mock offense, and we both laughed as we parted ways to get to our respective classes. Mission start, I told myself, my smile fading as soon as Light was out of sight.

The whole day, I kept my eyes peeled for a single anomaly—for even a smudge of black that didn't belong, but there was absolutely nothing out of place throughout. Soon enough, it was already lunchtime, and there had been neither hide nor hair of the Death Note. It wouldn't be possible for it to be visible from Light's classroom and not mine, I reasoned, considering it's supposed to fall from the sky, and into the courtyard.

After almost getting caught on the roof with Light at lunch (and subsequently hiding in a storage closet to avoid getting in trouble), I made sure to keep my eyes intensely focused on the window, not wanting to miss the Death Note if it fell.

We had one class left, and there had been no sign of the Note anywhere. I shuffled in my chair, keeping my eyes trained on the window . . .

. . . when it fell.

I could feel my heartbeat in my ears.

No.

I took a deep breath. It's okay. Light . . . Light won't get it. He can't . I'll get it before him. I will. I couldn't let the alternative happen.

But everything I had planned started to fall apart the very moment the bell rang. "Okay, remember to hand in your workbooks on Monday. Class is dismissed—oh, Yamada, not you. I need to talk to you, so please stay behind."

Damn it! Of all days to be called in after class . . . I tapped my foot impatiently as the class slowly cleared out of the room, more than most of them glancing periodically at me, as if to wonder why, but eventually left.

I let my gaze wander to the winder, where I could see the Death Note lying face down in the courtyard.

"Yamada." My head snapped over to look at my teacher. "You've been particularly disinterested in classes as of this week. Is there a reason you've been so distracted lately? I've even heard that you've been sleeping in class."

Internally, I swore. I hadn't been counting on this at all. I took a deep breath, realising that the only way to get out of this quickly was to play dirty. "Sorry, sir . . ." I bit my lip. "There's just been a lot going on at home lately, and studying for the entrance exams has taken up all my time, so it's a little hard to focus in class, sir. I know that's no excuse for not paying attention, but . . ."

My teacher sighed, cutting me off. "If you wish, I can arrange a meeting with your father—"

"No thank you, sir. I'll rest up tonight and I'll make sure to be at the top of my game from Monday onwards."

"Thank you, Yamada. Remember, though, the school always offers help if you need it, so don't hesitate to talk to any of your teachers."

". . . Thank you, sir. I'll be leaving now."

"Oh, Yamada, one more thing. Pick up a copy of Kurono Masaharu's Revised Exam Notes sometime. You may be friends with Yagami, but you also have to study yourself."

"Of course."

I sighed as I closed the door behind me, then made a break for the courtyard. Please, please, please . . . please don't have picked it up yet, Light!

By the time I reached, Light was waiting for me. "Come on, Mikko. Let's go home."

Agh, no! What should I . . . "Did you see, uh . . ."

"See what?"

Shoot, right, I can't ask him if he saw it fall. "Yamamoto still has my pencil from last week. Have you seen him?" Sorry, Yamamoto.

"Mikko . . . he's in your class."

"Yeah, but I had to stay back because Mr Furuya needed to talk to me, so I didn't get to ask him."

"He held you back because . . . ?"

"I wasn't paying attention in class."

"Then you deserve it."

I scoffed in mock offense, but held off on asking anything about the Death Note—if he had picked it up, just knowing about it would have me screwed over in a matter of hours. In the end, I didn't speak to him about it at all, the horrible sinking feeling of failure settling in my stomach.

The moment I got home, I dumped my book bag on the floor (not like Dad would care anyway) and dove onto the couch to switch on the house TV. Come on, come on, come on, where's the right news channel . . . Ah! News 6!

" . . . have determined the man's identity. He is Kurou Otoharada, forty-two years old and unemployed. Two days ago, Otoharada is reported to have been found in Shinjuku, having killed three people in an alleyway behind Keio Plaza. His motive remains unknown to police despite his frequent appearances around Shinjuku, as each of his murders was indiscriminate. We'll be checking in with Mr Soumiro Hashimoto at the scene."

"Thank you, Ms Kuromae. There still seems to be no changes yet in the sce—wait, something's happening." I held my breath. "What's this . . . ? The . . . the hostages are coming out! They seem to be alright. The police are going in now. Will they be able to arrest Otoharada?"

They can't if he's dead, I thought, already noticing my fingers were numb. Please don't let this be true.

A moment later, the chatter subsided and the police headed out. And then, the crushing words of failure I'd feared for years resounded: "The captor is inside the nursery school, and he is dead!"

Dead.

Dead.

I failed.

All of a sudden, it was like my head had been submerged underwater. Light has the Death Note now. What . . . what do I do now? Do I just . . . give up? Would it even be possible to do anything? I don't—

A multitude of beeps from my alarm shook me out from the spiral of negative thoughts that were sure to only mess me up. Right . . . we have our prep course today.

Maybe I could try and take the Death Note from Light's bag during prep? Or would that be too suspicious? I bit my lip, knowing that now, the only way to approach getting the Death Note from Light would be within these five days, before Ryuk showed up.

If I didn't, I'd just have to let things run their course and just make sure Light didn't die. Or, if I was lucky, that L would never find him— us —in the first place (even if that was a stretch).

I swallowed, my throat dry as I noted that Light hadn't yet showed up, even by the time I was in the classroom. Of course, Light wasn't one to like waiting around for no reason, but class would start within five minutes.

The teacher stepped in mere moments after Light did, and immediately called attention to the class, effectively cutting any and all chance of getting the Note from Light. Damn.

Towards the end of class, I even tried passing a note to Light, but it went unnoticed, with how deep in his thoughts he was. I swear, Light, if you're raving about how rotten the world is in your head, I'm going to kill you before Ryuk can.

Then, my throat tightened—now that was a possibility, wasn't it? Ryuk killing Light? I'd been so quick to brush off the entire canon as likely fiction, but from the moment the Death Note fell, it seemed so much more real.

And now, it was that much more dangerous—the likelihood that my best friend would be responsible for mass slaughter . The deaths of hundreds—no, thousands —of people.

That he'd be locked up, alone and denied contact with the outside world, hands and feet bound for months, deprived of his most basic rights beyond what was essential to barely survive.

That he would die before he even turned thirty—killed by a reaper who would willingly throw a whole planet into disarray for amusement.

I felt sick. I can't let that happen.

Then, an unwelcome thought wormed its way into my mind: You said that about him getting the Death Note, and look what happened?

I shook my head. I didn't have time to dwell on it now. Not when there was this much at risk. All I could do was try my best to stop the worst things from happening.

My eyes flitted to my bag, where my own notebook (the one in which I'd been noting down the events that would take place) was. I can try and intercept Light at the bookstore . . . maybe?

And it was then that the bell rang, signalling the end of prep class. I picked up my book bag and made my way to Light's seat, where he was zoning out, staring in the direction of Sudou's seat. He can't seriously be considering . . . killing Sudou, right?

I snapped my fingers in front of his his face. "Hey, space case! We need to get home!"

Light jolted backwards, only having just realised class was over. "Oh . . . Mikko, right." His eyes shifted. "You know what, you go ahead today, and I'll catch up. I'm going to have to go over the lesson and meet with Mr Nikaido for the briefing for the next few lessons. I don't want you getting held back because of me."

I sighed. Obviously, Light wasn't going to tell me about the Death Note. Staying would be pointless—I wouldn't be able to get the Death Note from him today, no matter how hard I tried.

And besides, I probably wouldn't have the energy to deal with Light questioning me if I accidentally let slip more than I should. I'll plan this out properly when I get home, I decided, before sighing again and leaving.

It had been a while since I'd walked home alone, I realised as I shifted my bag over my shoulder and pulled my hood over my head. I sighed as I passed by a bookstore on the side of the road. Right . . . the exam guide—I'm supposed to pick one up.

Just as I was about to enter, the loud screech of tyres sounded next to me. "Hey, girlie!" A sleazy voice called out. No, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to go! "How 'bout havin' some fun with me tonight?"

"How about no?" I said instead, really not wanting to have to deal with this. I pulled my hood down lower.

"Ooh, a mysterious chick, huh? Taku, you got good taste, man," one of his lackeys appraised.

"My name's Takuo Shibuimaru—that's Shibutaku for short, heh heh . . ." Shibuimaru said, lowering his sunglasses. That translates to "Cool Taku"—and it's a blatant ripoff of that other idol's nickname. Classless, if you ask me.

"Taku's usual come-on," said the first lackey.

"Well, it is his real name," countered a second.

"Look, I don't have time for this—"

"She says she doesn't have time, dude! Ain't that cute!"

"Aww, come on!" Shibuimaru tried again.

"You really can't see that this is a waste of time for both of us? For one thing, I'm a minor, and a law-abiding citizen, so that's a firm no."

One of the lackeys snorted. "Like anyone cares about those rules anyway," he jeered, and I felt a hand on my back.

I smacked it to the side. "Don't touch me." I'll just run, exam book be damned. I glanced pointedly at a traffic light. "Look, there's a police officer right there!" I lied, then took advantage of their moment of bewilderment to make a break for it.

But just as I had crossed the road, a truck hit Shibuimaru with a sicking crash and a consecutive crunch .

Just like in the story.

Right there, on the pavement, I collapsed to the floor as Shibuimaru's lackeys fled.

"Mikko!" Light's voice seemed far away, even as he lifted me up and carried me somewhere—I could tell where, and quite frankly, I felt too sick to care. The crunch of Shibuimaru's bones breaking still echoes in my head, and I felt the need to throw up.

"Light," I mumbled, curling my fingers in his shirt as I hid my face. "It's real," I whispered.

It's all real, I realised, and I'm too late.