Chapter One
"In which strange things happen"
The door to one of the most ancient bookstores in the city of London opened with a loud rasp, a small detail considering how old the wood which it had been built with was. Thus, it had been adorned with a bell above the door – an intelligent way to recognize a client's entrance, no less – after much thinking from the shop owner, a tall, lanky man who wore a pocket watch on a daily basis for the sake of preserving tradition.
As the bell rang, the bookstore clerk lifted a pair of beady eyes towards the door. He observed the newest client, a soaked figure wrapped in a rain coat which, in all honesty, had seen better days, and frowned deeply. A brief exchange of greetings was made. After a moment, the clerk tore his gaze from the soaked figure and resumed his previous task, muttering something about "god forsaken hooligans" to no one in particular.
Now, on the other side of the store, the soaked figure made no hesitation in going through any visible book titles which were of interest, although always specially careful not to spoil the pages.
The decision to take off the cap was probably made only to occur away from the clerk's sight, for as the figure's drenched hair was visible all of a sudden, so were the floorboards even heavier with new drops. The figure was now clearly female and she was glancing everywhere, obviously disturbed with the situation. It was not every day that her presence caused an inundation.
Her name was Fiona Putnim and she was in search of a book. Not just any book either, but one with enough substantial content to not be included in any sort of bathroom reading category. This was an arrangement easier said than done, as the chances of success seemed thinner than ever. However, in spite of what could appear as a failed search, Fiona was quick to dismiss negative notions until opportunity slipped completely. Unfortunate as she was that day, this was proving to be an even harder task than anticipated.
There were books on about every subject in that bookstore: from calculus to cooking there was bound to be one able to catch her eye. Alas, the novel type was fairly bothersome, and though most things seemed to lack a particular appeal when she dwelled on them. Where was the insight, the creativity capable of such uniqueness that granted even uninterested people like her a common anchor to point out how talented some were in comparison to others? As Fiona considered the towering shelves, she wondered how many pages she would be able to read without feeling the need to stop at every two minutes. Actual inventiveness was her craving; enough with the tedious writing over plaguing stores. There had to be something of interest out there, or else comic relief was the only option. Glancing around, Fiona noted that, in the corner, was even a manga section, but comics hardly counted as substantial literature as far as she was concerned. An expression of frustration fell upon her face; what Fiona wanted was a good book to ponder about after she arrived home from the university.
She sighed, annoyed. Fiona had a feeling that the walk home would be sorely empty handed…
That bookstore was leaving her a little indisposed, but it was probably due to the accumulation of dust in some of the old books. Either way, Fiona planned avoiding going back to the street until the weather showed some improvements. She did not want to catch a cold this close to Christmas.
All of a sudden, a book from the manga section captured her attention, thus distracting her from a thick volume of British short-stories. It was mostly because of the cover but that book seemed to emit an eerie glow from the shelf. The most curious thing, she thought, was the fact that she had already seen a dozen completely different copies –
Fiona frowned. She had reached a pale hand towards the book and, now, was holding a copy of the "How to Read" volume from the Death Note series. She wondered how in the world it could've ever appeared to almost sparkle in the dimly lit compartment, since it looked just like any of its brothers in edition at the moment.
Vaguely reflecting upon the possibility of having been given hallucinations from the moldy old dust circulating in the air, Fiona decided it was for the best if she went home. Raining or not, something did not feel quite right.
"How odd," she said, loud enough for only herself to hear. The sky was quickly turning into a soft blue, the clouds almost gone and no sign of rain. Perhaps the weather was going crazy, or maybe she was the one already loopy, but as Fiona placed the Death Note volume back in the shelf, her first reaction was to leave the bookstore as soon as possible.
Mumbling a stuttered "good day" to the store clerk, Fiona hurried her step on the way back home feeling awfully strange.
That night, when Fiona finished her last assignment, she went to bed early. The strangeness from the bookstore still plagued her to the point where closing her eyes seemed the best option. She was developing a rather nasty cold, for sure.
And so, Fiona Putnim allowed herself to drift into a sleepless slumber. She would ignore how her body was no longer home the moment she slipped into unconsciousness, but frankly, that was out of her control.
It was morning.
Glorious, a bright new day waited for the world to start it routine of early stress and unwanted tasks.
All is well until the alarm clock decides it is time to wake up. At least, that is what Fiona always used to say whenever she stood in front of the mirror, cursing the first class starting before noon. She stretched, rubbing her eyes in an annoyed fashion as the insufferable alarm clock's ringing pounded hellishly in her ears–
It was then Fiona acknowledged a terrible thing which prevented her from opening her eyes. There was a clear lack of sensibility; taking something as small as this detail and to turn it into a calamity seemed over the edge, but Fiona felt that mayhem was bound to ensue.
There was no alarm clock in her room.
Finally, she dared to open her eyes: Fiona sat on a smaller sized bed than her own at home, dressed in the same pajamas she had been using the previous night and stared, dumbfounded, at what seemed to be a dormitory room, furnished and, obviously, not vacant. Luggage and items of clothing were scattered around the floor while a pile of documents rested on a desk in front of an open window. Had this situation not been ridiculous, Fiona would have recognized everything in the room as her own (except for the alarm clock, of course). However, there was something wrong with this whole situation and the best she could hope to do was to get in contact with the person in charge of this… institution.
Outside, the window showed a large, beautiful campus where possible students made their way to the main building or the entrance, far away, almost covered by the willow trees on each side of a pavement road. Adding to Fiona's feeling of dread was the fact everything had a certain oriental appearance.
The best logical explanation would be that Fiona was experiencing a disturbingly vivid dream. Yes, after the little success of pinching herself in order to wake up, maybe trying to decipher some details regarding the dream would be an intelligent thing to do. Before talking to someone and risking arrest, of course.
Leaving the bed with extra careful, Fiona searched the room for clues. Although there was nothing on the floor she could recognize as important, there was bound to be something she had not seen. Thus the next thing to check should be the desk where a pile of documents lay. Perhaps it contained an out of place instrument used for ludicrous dreams to end –
Fiona gasped in shock. On the desk, close to the pile of documents lay the "How to Read" volume of Death Note.