She opened her eyes, her vision blurred at first but then clearing up to the brightly lit subway floor. Her eyes hurt a little so she lifted her arm to shield them. She could hear voices up above her as well as footsteps walking by wherever it was she was sitting. After a moment of gathering her wits, she lifted her head. "What...happened?" Ceres asked herself, barely over a whisper. Looking around, the woman realized she was in the subway station. Not too far away one of the trains was stopped to dispense and receive passengers. A few of the people gave choice glances in her direction, but otherwise made no move to come near her to check on her condition, or even ask why it was she was there. She picked herself up, resting her weight on her opposite hand. She noticed she was leaning on something that felt a little rougher than the clothes she mysteriously ended up in. "I feel like I was hit by a damn..." she stopped upon noticing that her bloody hand was over a small white book. "...truck..." She reached for it, a pain shooting up through the center of her back which caused her to flinch. Not giving up on trying to move, her outstretched hand took hold of the small book and pulled it back to her lap. It was thin, but pure white. She flipped it over, and in beautifully written black letters it read 'Life Note'. She sat back up against the wall as she held it in her hands, ignoring the dull pain in her spine. "Life Note? What is this, someone's journal?" She noted some people approaching and quickly shoved the book in her jacket and stood, shaking and nearly falling.
The people looked at her with dumbfounded expressions. She just stared back, not yet realizing that her face and hands and mid-section was covered in streaming dried blood. She stumbled by them without saying a word and boarded the subway car that was still awaiting passengers. She found a seat far away from the very few people in the car and sat down in the corner, putting her hand on her forehead as she tried to figure out what could have possibly happened to her. What happened to me? she wondered. My body feels so sore… The last thing I remember is hearing loud breaks, and such bright lights… Did that truck actually…?
It was morning to her when the swarm of business men and women joined her car sharply on the six o'clock stop in downtown Tokyo. Normally, Ceres would have hid in a corner or blended in with the walls, but this morning her body would simply not answer her calls. She could smell blood and dirt all over her and tried to hide it. Strangely enough, she couldn't find any noticeable wounds. As the subway car came to a slow halt at it's third stop, she hobbled out of the subway car and up into the bright streets of a sunny day Tokyo; the complete reverse of her night time home. She almost wished she was there in the rundown streets where no one would give a shit about her or what she looked like…but just almost.
"Ceres, hurry up with that you dimwitted girl. I don't know why I put up with you," came a harsh, older voice of a woman showing well her age. She was a short, wrinkly thing with long greying hair that was always pulled up into a bun atop her head. This was perhaps the one time Ceres was thankful that the old hag didn't much care about her employees. When she came in that morning she knew she looked terrible and hurried to the bathroom to clean up and put on her apron. It covered up most of the damage; however, it was still blatantly obvious that the girl had at least had a run-in with some unfortunate events.
"Sorry, Mrs. McCormick," the girl in the brown coat pacified knowing better than to correct her hot-headed boss in saying she had been done with her task for a long time. After all, Mrs. McCormick never found a reason to leave her backroom TV and waddle out during business hours unless it was to check the register, and knowing that today was a very slow day it was very unlikely she would bother. That, of course, left Ceres to manage "Mrs. McCormick's Flowers and Seeds", the only flower shop ever to give you both plants and lung cancer; the shop air was perfumed in nothing but the cigarettes the misses puffed.
After a while the bell on the door jingled just as Ceres was watering the roses and a timid Mr. McCormick stepped inside the shop. Unlike his wife, Mr. McCormick was a hardworking man who toiled nights in a factory but could still take a joke and always insisted every one call him "Sam" and not "Mr. McCormick".
"Good morning, Sam," Ceres greeted lightly, her face brightening a little at the old man's presence. He always made the air in the shop feel lighter.
Mr. McCormick flashed her a tired smile while working to loosen his tie. "And an excellent morning it is, Ceres. Though I do admit I am not planning to stay up and see it pass." Ceres nodded knowingly as he looked around the flower shop, yawned greatly, and rubbed his eyes. "This place really is slow," he addressed the emptiness of it all.
"We had a couple in earlier," Ceres offered, only to be ignored by a half deaf Sam.
Sam rummaged in his pocket and held out a bill for her to take. "Here," he said, "could you get me and Joann a cup of Joe? You can keep the change."
Ceres blinked, and then broke out in a rare smile. Two cheap cups of coffee out of ten dollars; oh yes, she really did owe Sam. He knew her troubles and attempted to help in any way he could, at least he did so discretely. Ceres continued to work hard the rest of the day as she always had, doing whatever she could to earn the slightest bit. She was thankful that today was Friday because the shop was closed on the weekends, and that it was pay-day. When she flipped the 'Open' sign to 'Closed' and turned around she found Mrs. McCormick standing there with an envelope between two fingers. She handed it to Ceres in a flustered manner. "Your weeks' pay," she said, then turned and went for the door. "Don't forget to lock up."
Ceres held the envelope in her hand, sighing. The lady had always said that every night before she left. Ceres had never once forgotten such an important task. She fumbled through the store and grabbed her bag and headed out, closing and locking the door behind her. She stood outside the shop, the setting sun's red rays falling upon her. It was time to leave the clean Kanto and head back to Tokyo. She didn't know why she stayed so far away from work in a much worse area than relocating here. Sure, moving would be a difficult task but she still had a tie to the old place. However, she had more than once thought of moving her home to a more appropriate setting.
Ceres boarded the subway train and sat down in the farthest corner once again to try to avoid any unnecessary attention. She sat there for a moment, waiting for the train to start as she touched her face, remembering what she looked like when she went into the bathroom of the flower shop that morning. She couldn't believe she was still alive. Her hand journeyed to her bag and pulled out the little white notebook to examine it again. She hadn't opened it yet, and wasn't sure if she should. Her fingers ghosted across the black letters, and then to the edge where she pulled open the cover.
She scanned over the first page:
· The human whose name is written in this note shall be saved.
· This note will not take effect unless the writer has the subject's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
· If the cause of rescue is written within 40 seconds of writing the subject's name, it will happen.
· If the cause of rescue is not specified, the subject will simply be saved by a miracle.
· After writing the cause of rescue, the details of the rescue should be written in the next 5 minutes and 30 seconds.
· If the person has been declared dead, his/her name must be written in this note within the next 3 hours to be saved.
Ceres' eyes became wide with concern. What? She turned the page and found something written at the very top of the first page of lines. She peered at it curiously, not recognizing the name right off-hand. She closed the notebook and looked at the cover once more. "Life Note," she whispered. "Seems like someone already tried to see if it was real. It must be a prank." It has to be a joke. If it wasn't, why would someone just leave it laying around?
The train car came to a squealing halt. Ceres shoved the book back in her bag and rose, exiting the subway car. She walked quietly down the sidewalk, the skies becoming darker and the few street lights that worked began to light up. Life Note...Whoever wrote this was pretty thorough about it. Any human whose name is written in this note shall be saved? She laughed. I can't believe I'm actually carrying it around. Ceres adjusted her bag on her shoulder. Or even considering...
The woman looked around to see a few cars occupying the streets alongside motorcycles. She watched people trudge up and down the sidewalks, most looking very tired. This world is full of filthy people. It covers up the good, and makes is harder for them to live... She stopped by a window where small television sets were on display, and as always the news was on. She stood there for a moment to watch. Sometimes they reviewed the weather for the week, so she could get an idea of what to wear the next day or so.
"It has been clarified that today at the Shimin Bank there is a man by the name of Hiroshima Takana who's been holding six people hostage for nearly four hours. Among them, two young students from Hiroshima High School: Toko and Mia Lovete." As the news anchor spoke the girls' names, their class photos appeared on screen. "Policeman say that he refuses to let them go unless his demands are met and that he is heavily armed. Reporters are on the scene now…"
Ceres stared through the glass. So filthy... Her hand slowly reached for her bag but abruptly stopped. No, it's stupid. It's just some joke. She shook her head and sharply turned away. Who did she think she was? There was no way that this little notebook could hold such an unfathomable amount of power as saving lives with merely pen and ink. Behind her, she could hear a reporter interviewing the two girl's mother. She was bawling, begging for the man to release her daughters through the cameras. Ceres looked down, her heart panging with sadness and fear. Slowly, she reached for the note once again. Turning over the cover, she reached for the click-pen in her pocket. What if it works? What if I actually save someone's life? Would I be punished? It isn't my right... She quickly wrote the name of the two hostages down and looked up at a large round clock on one of the light posts. She watched the second hand. Forty seconds...
She watched until the final forty was up and turned towards the TV, noting that nothing had changed. Her eyes hooded and she shoved the book back into her bag. Of course... She turned away, rather disappointed, and made to walk down the sidewalk once more.
"Oh, hold on there seems to be some movement down there..." came the voice of the news anchor, sounding rather surprised.
The woman stopped and looked behind her at the television, frowning. What?
"It's the hostages! The hostages are coming out unharmed!" the television voice blared. "But what about the robber? He's coming out! His hands are up and I believe he is surrendering! He put the gun down. Oh my god I can't believe this. It is truly a miracle. Police are apprehended the suspect now..."
Ceres stood brick still with wide, trembling eyes. She looked down at the bag hanging from her arm. Any human whose name is written in this note shall be saved. If the cause of rescue is not specified, the subject will simply be saved by a miracle. Ceres shook her head. "No, it has to be a coincidence," she convinced herself. The girl repeated it over and over in her head as she finished her walk to an old abandoned house. It was two stories, Victorian style. She was surprised that the city had not yet condemned the place to make way for new apartment buildings. She was grateful for it, though. The home was believed to be previously owned by someone of her distant family, but they were proclaimed dead by the time Ceres had reached Japan. Having no one and nowhere to live, she stayed in the house with no electricity, living by candle light.
Ceres rested herself by a table, placing the notebook flat on the top and staring at it. Elbows on wood, she pushed her fingers through her short, cerulean blue hair. Her slate gray eyes beamed down at the elegant black letters. It was hard enough wrapping her mind around how she could have survived such a brutal collision with a vehicle, but now there was this notebook that is declared to save lives. Was there some sort of connection between this note and her being alive? No, that isn't my name. Her thumb flipped through the rest of the pages thoroughly to see if she could find anything else written inside. Once reaching the back cover, she found nothing. She sighed softly and hung her head, releasing the note from her grasp.
Between bread and peanuts, there wasn't much food in the house. With no way to refrigerate or cook, Ceres had limited options on her meals. Mrs. McCormick was strangely generous with giving Ceres portions of breakfast and lunch. Though the woman was quite distasteful and grumpy, she had her moments. As for supper, Ceres mostly snacked on Japanese Peanuts, bread, and raw vegetables and fruits. In attempts to get away from the notebook she made herself a fruit bowl and sat back down at the table, pulling over the small battery-operated television set she had and turning the dial over. The screen was scratchy, so she reached up to mess with the rabbit-ear antenna until a clear picture was seen. As she nibbled on an apple slice, she listened as the late-night news reviewed the recent happenings in the area. As usual these days, they reported sudden or unexplained deaths of criminals. Kira was now a country-wide known, and crime was at an all-time low. Ceres had been following the case through the news, and knew nothing more than what the media was feeding her. However, the more she watched the more her eyes roamed over to look at the notebook beside her. "Kira has killed a lot of people… No one has been able to stop him for so long now; I wonder if anyone is still trying." She took another bite of apple as she averted her gaze. "Well, if this notebook is real, is it related?" she mumbled between chewing. "Does Kira have something like this one? I mean, if it's true then that means lives could be saved without any personal effort from the user. Isn't that basically how Kira has been killing people?"
Ceres woke up for what felt like the millionth time that night. For a moment she believed that perhaps she could make a difference in the Kira case, but soon convinced herself once again that it was only wishful thinking. There's just no denying it; I'm crazy for even thinking that what happened back there was a miracle. It was just a coincident…anyone with a brain knows there's no stopping Kira with a book… She looked up towards a nearby window from her cot on the floor and saw that the sun was starting to make itself known. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now, so instead she decided to rise early for the weekend. She went to the kitchen and sat at the table once more to turn on the television. Randomly she began flipping through the channels; surely there must have been a good sitcom on or something…
"-despite the latest setback within the investigation teams, the search for Kira is still up in flames. The great detective L is still pursuing the case and from what we were told, it won't be long before Kira is brought to justice…"
Ceres drowned out the words as she stared at the news bar at the bottom of the screen. "Recent setback…?" she repeated. The news never seemed to be able to reveal any happenings within the force tracking Kira and could only tell Japan's hopeful citizens that soon it would all be over. Ceres remembered when L first appeared on the television screens all over the Kanto region and made the first big break in tracking Kira, but beyond that, and especially now, the detective seemed almost non-existent. She sighed and sat back in her chair, listening on as the local news talked about the week's weather. L's probably dead anyway, whoever he is…