A/N: Hi again! Well, algebra semesters weren't that hard, and I'm bored enough to update. This chapter is pretty big, but it IS a pivotal one in the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note. I also don't own the song mentioned, which belongs to The Beatles, by the way.

Chapter 4: Departure

Seven years passed rather quickly, as though I saw with my own eyes my life rushing past. And whenever I thought about how strange it seemed that I barely remembered maturing, I could scarcely catch my breath. I always despised how, even when I tried to so much as pause time, I still managed to miss something.

Isn't it weird, what that can do to a person?

Most certainly, I know that pondering over the immortality of time can awe to the point of sorrow. If I ever admitted fearing anything in the world, time would serve as that bone-chilling phobia. It felt like a curse to me, something of which I couldn't dispel.

Over these seven years, I simply changed—at least physically. I grew two inches to five foot four, my bags under my eyes became significantly darker, and my hair became longer. On the inside, I still remained my same quiet, not outgoing self. To be honest, I preferred to keep it that way, considering the loathing I received from my fellow peers. They still hadn't recovered from the fact that I was L's younger sister, especially since he managed to send me birthday gifts each year. I had insisted that I hardly needed any possessions, but he, generous as he was, refused. In fact, on my fourteenth birthday, I received a baby grand piano. I sympathized profoundly with the delivery men who had to haul it up the stairs to my room.

Speaking of music, I had dropped chorus from my class schedule that same year, much to the delight of my former classmates and to the sorrow of Miss Ferguson. I still sang, though away from others, even Mello and Matt. My two friends had never truly witnessed my talent due to my modesty. Besides, what if they turned into harsh critics?

They had already changed too, more drastically than I had. Mello became even more bitter, wrathful toward this cruel, unforgiving world; his aura seethed hatred for Near, who (as he saw it) always managed to defeat him. The chocolate eating blond wore black constantly now and picked on the other orphans more than ever. Admittedly, his cynical attitude often chilled me to the bone with its bleak effect. He proved himself faithful, though, and neither tormented Matt nor me. Both of us thanked our lucky stars for that gilded trait to still glisten, even as Mello's frustration expanded.

Matt, on the other hand, was a laid-back sort of fellow as always, as well as an excessive chain smoker. Due to my sensitive nose, I tended to avoid his room; I couldn't stand the atrocious scent of cigarettes that permeated the area. But, this hardly stopped me from spending quality time with him, playing his video games that I had never won again. Unfortunately, he often distracted me because of his increasingly handsome appearance. Like my brother L, I despised wearing my heart on my sleeve, so I stifled my idiotic, hormonal affections to prevent emotional agony. The day I would fall in love with Matt would never happen, I assured myself. I would rather avoid love altogether.

Meanwhile, whenever we took exams at Wammy's, I excelled in psychology (the class I took in place of chorus), English, and history. Out of all the orphans, I scored fifth overall in test scores with Near, of course, at the top of the list. Poor Mello would, as aforementioned, wind up in second place and promptly stomp off to his dormitory to fume. I pitied him, though he would kill me if I ever told him. While looking at my test results one day, just weeks after my seventeenth birthday, I contemplated as to what to do with my life. Aware that I reached an age in which to move out, I found that I wished to metaphorically fly the coop. All young people had to abandon their homes to explore beyond their own backyards some time in their lives.

But, when I thought of this, I sighed miserably; this would entail leaving my two best friends who were definitely significant to me. It would be difficult, to say the least, even as my heart grew restless—I yearned to visit (possibly live in) Japan in my lifetime. I had to sacrifice personal happiness to do this. Perhaps I could return to Wammy's House and see my friends after a few months' leave. That sounded like a brilliant plan.

Despite my resolve for the future being set, I took scant solace in it due to the excruciating pain wrenching my heart. I had never before left Matt and Mello, not even outside of Winchester. The age to move out was nigh, my biological clock ticking like a proverbial time bomb. I had to liberate myself from the chains of childhood; this, I knew.

With a heavy heart, I inwardly declared that day to be the final one I would ever spend at Wammy's House. The actual packing of my few belongings wouldn't happen until dusk, I decided. Merely to avert my thoughts from the depression of leaving, I went to my room to play my piano. I noticed that today did look beautiful outside.

Swollen powdery white clouds crawled in the azure sky, the sun sharing its light with everyone below it. Sparrows chirped out their hymns and were often interrupted by the shouts and ecstatic laughter of the children playing in the courtyard. Strong emotions filled my heart to the brim, though I denied them. Despite residing one more day here, I still could never bring myself to go outside.

The Lawliet blood ran incessantly through my veins. If the other orphans were bound and determined to abhor me the rest of my life because of that undeniable fact, then so be it. They would still remain untrustworthy foes forever, since they willed it that way.

I gently pulled out my piano seat, sat down, and shoved the ebony cover back to reveal the keys—black and white laying together in unison. My fingers smoothly slid down each individual key, my ears admiring the soft, pure sounds I heard. This melodious music which the piano produced ignited my soul in a passionate blaze.

My heart pounded anxiously against my ribs, pining for me to play a song, any song, just as long as its hunger was satisfied. I, refusing to deny its wishes, permitted my fingers to select certain keys to form the song I wanted to play so desperately. I was at the instrument's mercy when I sensed its smoothness, delicious to the touch. Even if that didn't make sense, being caught up in this moment did. It would stay forever, I thought, an eternity with a most beloved yet inanimate companion.

Also allowing my vocal cords to gain some exercise, I started singing along with the somewhat slow tempo and the entrancing melody; I was one with this song. Once I delved into any song, for that matter, I threw my heart and soul into it. As an artist, I became more emotional, more passionate than I ever let on outside my room. With that being said, I sang "Let It Be" by the Beatles as tomorrow would never come.

I found myself so taken by the music that my ears grew deaf to any other noise that might disturb me. A creator at work must never be interrupted. However, I disregarded the door opening and a stifled gasp accompanying it. When I reached the height of the song, someone remarked, "You never told us you could sing—or play piano either."

Startled, my suddenly clumsy fingers hit an ill-fitting F sharp key. My head shot up, and I swiveled around to see Matt and Mello standing at my doorway. Obviously, I had inanely forgotten to shut the door, which I usually ensured to do.

Mello bit off a rather large hunk of his chocolate bar. "You're good...but, I don't really like music. It aggravates me, you know. And, really, I don't see why I should care. Later."

I always found it odd how he could imply one thing yet totally mean the opposite. Mello preferred being a rather contradictory fellow, though, no matter if we were friends. Honestly, what he had told me brought my self-esteem down a few notches; the awkward sense of receiving criticism taunted me.

Impulsively, I gave a sigh of lament before turning back to the piano. Only Mello would state such harsh words, even to me. I was no longer safe from his insults. At least he had retreated from the doorway to his own devices, presumably trying to crack Near's emotionless shell again with fighting words. Matt, to my surprise, still remained; then again, he was the one who had exalted me.

"Why are you still here?" I murmured, practically lachrymose from the stinging remark from Mello. "Aren't you going to follow Mello?"

Matt waved a dismissive hand. "Nah! I don't feel like it. Don't let him get you down, by the way."

Donning my ice-cold facial mask aka looking robotic, I lightly tapped my finger against one of the keys. "How can I not? I was criticized—I knew that secret should have stayed hidden."

"He's just pissed that Near beat him in test scores again. It's not your fault," he assured me.

A minor exhale slipped from my lips when I heard this, and I withdrew my fingers from the piano key I had pretended to distract myself with. "I wish he didn't insist on taking it out on me, though. I got fifth on the exams due to the fact I despise math."

"Don't we all?" Matt laughed slightly before sitting next to me on the cushioned piano bench. "You're really good at singing and playing that piano, you know. Why did you drop out of chorus anyway?"

The lines above my eyes (though not eyebrows) sprung upward. "How did you know that?"

He shrugged and looked somewhat apologetic. "I may have peeked at your schedule."

What would have infuriated me merely made me indifferent to this news. After all, the students in my former class had spoiled any potential shining moments for me.

"I decided to quit the course due to the simple fact that I didn't think it was worth it any more. I had been made a reluctant class pet for the teacher, which made the orphans who already didn't care for me despise me further. Really, I had tired of all that."

His emerald eyes glinting intriguingly behind his goggles, Matt advised, "Well, you should have ignored those damn jerks anyway. What do they know that you don't?"

I laughed wryly. "Good point, Matt. It's a shame that I didn't think of that."

We shared a companionable, relaxed silence in which he puffed on his cigarette, which let loose with a stream of gray smoke. I meandered to a daydream world consisting of musical notes and pianos and beautiful music that could move the soul. Such imaginings I had wistfully, but it was peaceful, wishful thinking—nothing that could damage me.

The quietness broke when the sound of a handheld being turned on cut through it; Matt, becoming bored, had commenced playing video games as usual.

He ruffled my hair as he rose from the bench, though whether it was done with a brotherly intent or not, I hadn't a clue.

"I'll see you at dinner, I guess," he called over his shoulder. "Rumor has it that they're serving liver and onions tonight."

Promptly chuckling upon observing my wrinkled nose, he strode breezily out the door.

Upon Matt's exit, I pulled the handle to my miniature fridge (another gift from L) to seek some rocky road ice cream. I habitually took out my spoon, something I could never dream of leaving without, to dig into the pint. In my eyes, a snack before dinner (my last dinner here, too) was perfect; as implied, I detested liver and onions, so that caused me to actually want to spoil my dinner. The Sunday church bells with their solemn tolls pealed out four hours after noon as I let the ice cream melt in my mouth.

I absolutely adored the bells, as well as the music they played every Sunday. The somber deepness of them fascinated me and just hearing them brought me solace. I recall that those bells inspired many a song that I would write in a notebook I kept tucked away in my dusty bureau drawer. With the sunset now arriving to paint the sky with its unique hues, I heard the bells' music die away until the next hour would come forth. The lovely peals remained tingling in my ears as I commenced my walk to the cafeteria.

I waved to my friends before sitting across them with my tray of disgusting dinner, which proved that the rumors Matt had mentioned were true. Doing my best to forget about the words "last time", I used my fork to play with the liver and onions. If I thought I disliked that dish before, I knew I hated it now. The acrid smell wafting into my nostrils gave me a strong urge to vomit along with the increased pain in my stomach. I could scarcely eat enough to suffice my apparently non-existent hunger, though I couldn't exactly dine while keeping my plan in mind. Leaving Mello and Matt was going to be worse than I anticipated.

Delving deeply into their conversation, the two boys rarely spoke to me, for my depressed silence. They were young men, though; I didn't expect them to suspect what my thoughts consisted of behind the muteness. Meanwhile, I heard the light-hearted chatter of the other children, the lucky ones who had no troubles on their minds. Then again, they aged younger than seventeen, which implied they still had the golden years ahead of them. And this was my last day here. I merely twiddled my thumbs to distract myself to stop this repetitive meditation—I barely managed to.

Faint pinprick stars glowed in the midsummer sky by the time I returned to my safe refuge of a room for—well, obviously, this affected me more than I predicted. Emotions stirred within me as I started gathering my clothes and took out a suitcase from my closet. I was in a hurry packing these items before I could cry, and I definitely refused to do that.

I hadn't cried in practically ten years due to the protection of my reactions, which I used meticulously. After all, I had pored over several psychology books in my time, so I could assume what people expected of their peers. Of course, I wasn't about to give my cruel, disdainful classmates the satisfaction of me reacting in negative ways. With this in mind, I blinked back unnecessary tears and finished collecting most of my belongings emotionlessly.

As I closed the suitcase clasps, something caught the corner of my eye. I bent down to my bed to see that a five-year-old photograph of Matt, Mello, and I lay in dust underneath the bed. My hand snatched the photo before I thought twice. It depicted the three of us standing on the front steps of the orphanage with Matt flashing his perfect grin, Mello smirking evilly, and me just barely smiling. We had managed to convince Linda, who liked to dabble in all things artistic, to snap the picture with her camera. She was actually the only other orphan who tolerated me, something I deemed a genuine miracle.

I carefully placed the wrinkled black and white photo in my jeans pocket and dug my hand inside to smooth out the creases. It meant so much to me, to part with it would have torn my heart to shreds. A wry smile, barely there, touched my lips before it faded when I forced my black eyes upon my adored piano. I had to say goodbye to my instrument and mute friend, having to face the fact that I could never make it speak again. This would serve as one of my most difficult partings, since the baby grand piano was L's gift. Therefore, the last reminder of my brother; regretfully, I had no choice but to let it go.

One last time I stroked the keys to hear the beautiful sounds emitting from them. Perhaps, I thought, my ardent passion for music had to die as well. A strange lump obstructed my throat, even though I attempted to convince myself that it was no more than a plaything.

But, honestly, it was one of significance; it hurt to leave it like this.

Closing the key cover that was the piano's eyelid, I strode to Mello's room with a determination to not waver in my half-concluded resolve. If I was to escape Wammy's House, I had to finish the painful remainder, even if it meant possible resentment from my loyal friends. Maybe they would jump ship when I broke the news. I put these haunting doubts to rest when I knocked on Mello's door.

He narrowed his sky-blue eyes slightly, looking irritated. I knew that the events of that day still frustrated him. Leaning against the wall, he quietly assessed me with those sharpened orbs, which pierced my soul. It was at this moment when he glimpsed my suitcase.

"You're leaving," Mello stated, far from being unsure regarding my intentions.

"Yes, I came to say goodbye...at least for the time being," I replied, sounding confident in myself...too confident.

His studious frown drastically altered into a tight lipped scowl that told me he believed this was my method of abandoning him. He showed his deep resentment for my decision this way. If I ever visited Mello at Wammy's again, I sensed relations between us would gradually distance themselves. He never revealed his past to us, but I think he was an abandoned child whose parents didn't even care about him. It would definitely be a reasonable explanation as to why he despised treachery and abandonment above all else.

He clenched his teeth before snapping them closed on his chocolate bar. "Whatever, I expected this anyway."

With his gruffly uttered sentence, Mello slammed the door in front of my face without so much as saying goodbye back. He was in denial, and he was also trying to drive me away before depression rendered him insane. Sadly, he was never one to take news well.

"I will see you again, Mello," I told him reassuringly through the door. "You may not like me now, but please remember all the good times the three of us have had. That is all I ask."

No response. I had figured as much; hopefully, he was thinking over my words. I sighed before exiting the corridor to descend painstakingly down the stairs, my heart sinking with each step. Now, I had to bid adieu to Matt, who would be the hardest to leave. We did share more in common, after all.

The redhead in question stood before one of the windows in the common room, his goggles catching the final rays of sunlight. Of course, he played his handheld while smoking his cigarette elegantly. I found that my voice had eluded me, and I could barely bestow to him a decent greeting. Luckily, he spoke to me first.

"Hey, weren't those liver and onions delicious?" Matt sarcastically quipped, glancing at me and pressing buttons at the same time. "I could barely eat my portion—I'm telling you, those people are trying to kill us."

"Matt, could we...take a walk?" I asked, my voice projecting above a whisper.

His smile faded. "Sure, but are you OK, V?"

I insisted that I was fine and promptly walked out the door with him following. We scarcely said a word as we ambled across the courtyard, only spotting a stray child playing here and there. Our enormous shadows stretched across the beautifully trimmed green grass, I observed. They were so close together, blending into each other, which served as a rather attractive sight. I had always found silhouettes pretty, and I almost wished that I owned a camera like Linda did. The trivial things captivated me, for I could feel more strongly than I displayed. That quality must run in the Lawliet family.

This abrupt thought made me wonder what my parents (I guess I should call them Mom and Dad) were like. Did they appreciate the artistry in nature, too? Or did they behave in a more practical manner like my brother L? I wished as I gazed at the many colored sky that I had known my parents better when I matured. If that car accident had never occurred, how would they have treated me? Sighing, I placed my hands in my pockets.

I could have sworn Matt ignored my sigh of lament, but he already paused his game, something he rarely dared to do.

"What's bothering you?" he inquired, attempting to come of as nonchalant, though I did catch a trace of concern in his voice.

"This is a really weird time for this, I'm assuming, but I was just thinking about my parents. I wondered what they were like when they had lived."

He let out a wry chuckle. "I bet you do. I don't think about my parents all that much. They're dead, I barely knew them, and I don't think it matters."

I nodded, comprehending his point of view while gazing at the increasingly brighter stars that started glowing. "I understand...though I do remember a woman's voice singing to me a long time ago. Perhaps it was my mother."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Matt shrugged, remaining relatively indifferent to my recollection. Now that he was seventeen, he considered himself too cool to care. How could he force himself into insensitivity like that?

Another silence pressed over us as the ebony blanket of night draped over our surroundings.

I currently meditated over Matt's potential reaction when I would tell him my next objective. Would he say something along the lines of, "Well, it was nice knowing you. Good luck."? Or would he sincerely care this time? There was only one way to find out.

"I'm leaving here—tonight," I whispered loudly enough to be coherent.

Pausing his game suddenly, Matt jolted slightly from this. "You are? Where are you going anyway?"

"Japan. I always wanted to travel, you know."

Still somewhat numb from shock, he awkwardly scratched his head. "Yeah, but...this is so sudden. V, I thought you were going to wait a year at least."

I smiled slightly at him as I took one final look at him for memory's sake. "You were always my preferred friend out of the two of you. Speaking of which, Mello didn't take things well, but—"

"He's Mello," Matt finished with his famous smile again. Even behind his smile, though, I espied the faintest hint of sorrow in his emerald eyes that lay behind his goggles. He would miss my company after all. This knowledge resulted in an impulsive statement on my part.

"I'll...miss you," I muttered before turning my head away to feign studying the perimeter of the orphanage. Somehow, I sensed him smiling at me before I made my way cautiously toward the gates, the same ones L had gone through ten years ago.

And then, I heard Matt's response.

"Send me a postcard!" he called to me, and I discovered that I was laughing as I opened those metallic gates.

A/N: I thought it would be interesting if V was musically inclined--I think it would be awesome if Death Note had had a character like that. And lachrymose is my favorite word. So...I thought, after I first wrote this, that this chapter was rather sad, don't you agree? Especially Mello's reaction and V just leaving Wammy's. Well, when one door closes, another one opens. And there's definitely gonna be an interesting door opening up next chapter...hmmm...