I honestly have no idea what possessed me to write this.

My History class has always been inspirational, but this is random on a whole new level.

Not the topic itself - plenty of people throw themselves into an anime world - but the fact that

I'm genuinely motivated to write it up.

Huh.

Grey, at WH, cleverly manages to get hit in the head with a football the exact same moment as I, Leprechaun, fall off my horse and smash my head against a pole.

Both with concussion, both to regain consciousness in a completely different dimension;

only one to have heard of said dimension before (yay for Death Note manga!).

How will either of us cope?

How will things be resolved?

More importantly, how is Niden going to react?

Enjoy.

Yours insanely,

{E~L~L}

PS: I don't own Death Note, sadly, but I do own myself, Grey Sand and that mint-addicted Blood Steed...

Ch2: Denial

I always liked to make fun of people in denial. It was always so funny to watch people refusing to acknowledge an obvious fact, then point and laugh at them and go "HA! DENIAL!"

What? I never said I was a decent person.

Anyway, its a hell of a lot less amusing when you're the one struggling with such irrational thoughts of 'no, this isn't happening to me, for F's SAKE this IS NOT HAPPENING TO ME'. Especially when you're an intelligent teenager who's used to thinking somewhat rationally and not freaking out.

I am not freaking out. I am not freakin- ...

Damn. Denial again.

Let's focus on the facts. Yes, that's a splendid idea. Facts are nice and factual!

Focus, Lep. Focus. Be Captain Obvious and state what you know.

Okay, so I was obviously conscious. I was obviously in a bed, which was in a room, which was otherwise empty - thank GOD - of all life.

Does the potted plant count as life, or is it fake?

Never mind. Anyway, the room was dark-ish, due to the curtains being closed, but it was obviously daytime because there was light leaking out from behind them. Obviously. There was obviously a chest of drawers, a desk, a bedside locker and two doors, which meant that this was obviously a bedroom of some kind, and obviously not my bedroom or any other bedroom I've ever woken up in.

Now I'm disturbed.

Oh, and my head still hurt, obviously, and if I have to use the word obviously one more frickin' time I'll maul the next living thing that sets foot in this room-that-isn't-familiar.

Yeah.

Slowly, I slid out of the bed; and that's when I noticed that my body wasn't, well... Mine.

Oh, it wasn't far off. But I was too lean, too slender. My limbs were too fit, my hair too short and straight, and my hands clearly lacking the cracked dyness I'd got used to so many years ago. My left leg felt as good as my right, and despite my aching head my vision was perfectly good.

Hm... Mirror time.

After staring at the reflection that was mine-yet-not-mine for roughly eight minutes and forty six seconds, I came to terms with the fact that

a) I was in a different body; a body that looked strikingly similar to what I imagined my OC to look like

and

b) ... The chances of me being stuck in a different dimension - AKA the Death Note dimension - had just rocketed up by about seventy percent.

Fleck.

Yes, this had the potential to be extremely amusing and exciting and all that other unexpected-adventure crap, but the whole problem with that was, well... It was unexpected. And irrational. And totally, utterly bizarre.

Although, I had a Physics test on Thursday...

Before I could properly revel in the prospect of not having to deal with the boring academic normalities of home, my sensitive hearing picked up approaching footsteps.

"Shit!"

I dove under the covers.

Now, like any teenage girl who disobeys her parents, I'm exceptionally skilled at faking sleep. But pretending to be unconscious when your suspicious mother is checking you're in bed and pretending to be unconscious with a complete and utter stranger in the room, watching you, are two different situations entirely.

Still, I could probably get away with it if they hadn't heard me swear.

"I heard you swear. I know you're awake."

Crap.

Even worse was the fact that the person's voice was familiar. But staying under the covers was, contrary to popular belief, not a good way of making things go away, so I shoved the duvet off and scowled at the blonde chocaholic.

"Huh. Where am I, and why am I wherever I am? Hell, why are you here, too?"

Mello gave me a strange look, and snapped off a piece of chocolate from the bar in his hand.

"You're in your room, Grey. You got knocked out by a ball to the head during soccer. Roger wanted me to check in on you."

"Grey... Grey! You okay?"

His face was mere inches from mine as he leaned over, his fiery blue eyes scrutinizing me with concern...

Sure, Roger wanted him to check on me.

"Right.. I probably have concussion, then. That would explain the persistant headache. How long have I been out?"

Mello considered only briefly.

"It's 17:30 now, so about six hours. You're confined to bed rest until further notice, though. I'll tell the old man you're up."

..Even though everything he said I could understand, it still felt weird having a chat with a presumedly fictional character who seemed to be friends with me. Or rather, with Grey Sand.

I was still struggling to get over that.

"Sure, you do that."

Hopefully he'd be gone a while; to put it bluntly, I needed time alone to panic over my situation. Mello went to leave, but paused just out in the hallway and regarded me curiously.

"What exactly were you doing out of bed, anyway?"

Uh...

Well, I could hardly say 'Mello, I was staring at my reflection and freaking out over the fact that I appear to have been shoved into my character's body in an orphanage that doesn't exist. No, that wouldn't do at all.

"Looking at the ball-shaped dent in my skull via my mirror. Now go."

So I gave him a blunt, get-your-nose-out-of-my-life answer that would have made my OC proud. Thank God our personalities weren't that different; Mello only smirked and shut the door behind him, seeming all-too-used to such responses.

But in all fairness, this was one of L's potential successors. The guy was an impulsive, paranoid genius who clearly knew Grey well; It was unlikely that I could fool him - or the rest of the WH residents - for very long.

Damn, I should have pretended to be an amnesiac.

As I sat on the bed, wondering what the hell my plan of action should be - because as tempting as it was, living Grey's life here was not an option I could consider anything short of idiotic - I had a startling, and very frightening epiphany.

'If Mello's still a kid - still alive - at WH, then it can't be 2010 here, which means...'

Mello returned alone just then, with a fresh bar of chocolate.

"Hey, Linda's coming up with some foo-"

Even in my state of urgency, I was rather satisfied to notice that I was quick enough - and strong enough - to lunge forwards and pin him against the wall.

"Mello, what year is it?"