Disclaimer: I don't think the writers of Death Note write fanfiction...but if they did it would be seven thousand times better than this...can you guys tell that I'm jealous of their talent?

Story Arc 1: The Project

April 10th, 2004

Chapter 7

The spray from the shower cap was warm, the tendrils slipping down my bare skin. Having had gone so long without a shower, it was a novelty to scrub myself clean. Usually I neglected such frivolities, but lately, I had noticed the amount neglect my body had been receiving. Perhaps not showering or brushing your teeth for at least a week was a bad idea.

I felt my tense muscles slowly relax beneath the spray—perhaps sleeping in an armchair wasn't the best on my body. I softly groaned, lathering soap onto my skin and hair, the scent easily could have been identified as mint, aloe, roses, or department perfume. I appreciated the cleansing feeling more than the scent of generic shampoo. Humming some random Gregorian chant, I turned the shower off and pulled back the curtain and grabbed the towel I had laid on the lid of the toilet. I wrapped the fluffy towel around my body, moving up to the sink to brush my teeth.

I should do that more often, I thought to myself as the mint from the toothpaste stung my tongue and throat. I was certainly in a more stable place where I could actually take showers, as many as I wanted, for as long as I wanted. I gave a happy sigh; this was Heaven. I spat out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed the sink and toothbrush with a bit of water from the faucet.

A rush of chilly air rushed past me as I opened the door and walked into my room, the air drying up the moisture from my skin. The light from outside filtered in through thin, see-through curtains. The windows had been opened to allow fresh air. The curtains billowing slightly as the wind traced along the fabric, attempting to gently pull it inside.

When I returned from the library this morning, I had found my room completely clean and unpacked. The box in the closet was gone; the clothes in it cleaned and either hung in the closet or put away in the chest of drawers. They had even gone to the trouble of finding a few beautiful, picture frames for the few photos I had stashed away in baggy in the box. The photos were now resting on the nightstand next to my bed. The desk had been stocked with supplies, and my mini bookshelf was filled with reference books.

Bending over, I took the towel from around my body and wrapped my hair with it and settled it into a high turban. I crossed the room and pulled open the top drawer to grab some undergarments. I quickly pulled them on and crossed the room to the closet and pulled out a dark green hoodie and a pair of faded jeans from the hangers.

After pulling them on, I grabbed a hairbrush from the bathroom and returned to the bedroom to sit on my bed. I pulled the towel from my head. Taking a breath, I started to brush my hair, starting from the end and working my way up. The tips of my hair wetting the fabric of my sweater as I used my shoulder as a backboard to brush my hair against.

I looked around my room. Was this a normal occurrence? People cleaning my room? I mean, I couldn't complain if it was, it was really convenient, but it seemed rather unnecessary. It is an orphanage in a mansion. Of course, they would have enough money for a couple of maids.

Actually, it felt like more of a hotel than an orphanage.

I shrugged and finished my hair. I pulled open a drawer from the nightstand and fished around for a hair tie. Upon finding one, I pulled my hair into a low, side ponytail and tucked it into my hoodie. The wet hair slowly turned warm against my skin.

And these rooms! I sighed, falling back against my bed. Everything about them was comfortable, from the bed to the shower! Even the way the house sat in relation to windows which allowed for the morning sun to peer through and warm up the room. It was enough for you to rise from beneath your covers without getting chilly. It was certainly the type of room I'd never had before, even when my family and I had a home.

Home.

I could remember a home– one that tasted of love and felt like warmth. I remembered laughter and delicious smells wafting from the kitchen as my mother and father cooked, taking turns with the dishes, talking all the while. I remembered the softness of my mother or the rumbling of my father's chest as he talked or laughed.

It felt like my brain was stretching as it remembered that far in the past, as if my consciousness was going to detach itself from my cranium and float off past the confines of the room and into the clouds. How blissful would that be? Floating. Becoming one with the sky. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling, the sun from the window warmed my body—for moment I contemplated on whether this what cats felt like when curled up in a ball on a sunny part of the floor.

"Come on, Elzi!" A patter of feet and a gaggle of giggles reached a crescendo as the children passed my door. "Let's get the others! I want to play tag!"

I jumped in my skin, Kira catching my heart(1). Pressing a hand to my chest, I rolled off the bed. The grogginess that had weighed down my bones was gone. I stretched, feeling my cavernous stomach protest at the torment I put it through.

Food, I thought to myself. I stood up and walked across my room to the door. That sounds fantastic.

I grabbed the key sitting on the top of the dresser, exited my room, locking it behind me. The windows were once again open in the hallway as I retraced my way to the dining room, hoping there would be food out from lunch.

Much to my dismay, the food from lunch had already been cleared away. Instead, large baskets of fruit, filled with apples, pears, and bananas, sat on each of the tables. My stomach growled; I was actually craving for something more filling. Like a sandwich or some soup. I backed tracked from the dining room and retraced my steps to the kitchen.

The kitchen was the busiest I had ever seen it. A group of people weaved and bobbed around the counter tops, moving pots and pans and plates around. They wore almost identical outfits: plaid pants, white aprons, and light blue chefs shirts. It was much warmer in here than it was outside; it looked like every stove and oven was being used. The pots and pans emitted numerous amounts of smells and sounds.

"Well, hello dear!" A intimidating, elderly woman sauntered up, her wrinkled face warped into a scary grimace of a smile. She was tall and wiry. I could see the tendonsprotrude from her thin, wrinkled hands as she used her apron to wipe them. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, only one piece was out of place and hung in her face in a grey wisp.

"What can we 'elp you with, dearie?" Her voice had a thick accent. Her words were heavily influenced by an Irish brogue.

"I accidently missed lunch." I signed slowly, hoping she would understand. She didn't comment but continued to smile. I took this as a good sign. "Would there be any way that I could get a snack?"

The old woman sighed, wiping her hands on her apron. "We are specifically instructed to not give any o' the children food in between meals. 'owever, there is fruit on the table in the dining room." She smiled again, tucking the loose hair back into her tight bun. "I'm very sorry, lass."

Disappointed, I backed out of the kitchen and headed back down to the dining room. Perhaps I shouldn't have spent so much time in the library; I felt almost nauseous with the emptiness in my belly.

I stalked over to one of the tables and plucked a pear from the top of the stack. Biting into its juicy center, I was amazed to find that it was surprisingly tasty. This managed to dim my disappointment a bit. Real pears were so much better than the cheap canned fruit my parents used to buy for ninety cents. I felt the juice from the pear dribble down my chin as I sucked the delicious liquid from the fruit. I swiped the sticky trail away with the sleeve of my hoodie. The hunger died down as I finished pear. Sadly, my appetite was not completely sated. I grabbed another pear from the basket and immediately began devoured.

"Come on Jean!" A voice called from the entrance hall, feet pounding on the stairs.

I continued to eat my pear, the flesh of the fruit sinfully sweet against my tongue. Curiosity spiked through me. This was the second time today someone was rushing through the mansion. I had been here long enough to gather that this was a regular occurrence. Children often ran around the mansion, giggling and playing. To be certain, I was assuredly not used to random moments of ecstatic, high pitched screaming.

I made my way to the entrance hall in time to see the panels of the front doors swing closed with a loud bang. Intrigued, I walked to the doors and peeked through the window.

A collection of children stood a bit off from the porch. They gathered together to listen to a boy standing in front of them. He, like the rest of them, seem about thirteen. He had cropped brown hair, tanned skin, a dark black shirt, and white gym shorts. But, he had no shoes.

I opened the door, the young boy's words flitting through the air to me. "—the boundaries are a half mile out, okay? We don't need to find anyone in a tree miles away later tonight."

The group of kids giggled while someone cried out, "That was one time!"

I walked outside, closing the door behind me. The kid at the front of the group glanced towards me and waved, smiling. "You here for forest tag, new kid?"

I shrugged, the group of kids turned their heads to see who the he was talking to.

"Come on," a girl with blond pigtails urged. "You'll have fun!"

The crowd of kids exclaimed in agreement, cheering for me to join. A bit self-consciously, I nodded. Sure. I would play. What was there to lose?

The small crowd of kids cheered. Several of them coming forward to grasp at my hands and pull me towards the woods. One of the children grabbed the mostly eaten pear from my hand and chucked it into the flower bed.

They were all so cute, most of them shorter than me by a least a foot. They laughed and shoved each other, each one shouting over the other to be heard as they asked me questions.

"Do you like pie?"

"Can you draw?"

"Are you smart like L?"

Truth be told, they were the weirdest questions I had ever been asked. I actually didn't like pie at all. I couldn't draw to save my life. And, I probably wasn't even close to being as smart as L. I forced a thin smile onto my face and lifted my hands to stop them. I signed a reply: "No, to all of it."

We all stopped at the edge of the forest. They got a bit quieter as a small boy with short, light brown hair asked, "What's that you're doing with your hands?"

"You dummy!" A girl behind him flicked his ear. Her cute features were all scrunched up with annoyance. "That's sign language. She was saying 'no' to all our questions." I was slightly shocked, and apparently it showed on my face. Her face scrunched up even further. "Nearly all the kids in Wammy House know sign language. It's only the newer kids that don't." She flicked the boy's ear again. "Like this dummy."

"Hey!" The boy's voice cracked as he whined. He whipped around to retaliate. He flicked the girl on the nose, making her squeal. "I'm not a dummy," he said proudly. "You are!" This automatically started a flicking war, which caused the rest of the children to be attracted to joining in. This, in turn, took the attention completely off of me.

"Come on!" The same little boy, who had been watching the proceedings for quite a while, spoke up. Catching the attention of everyone, he continued. "Let's get this started so we can have a proper game before dinner!"

The forest floor was soft and covered with a thick blanket of grass. For a moment, I contemplated returning to the mansion for my sneakers. However, the rest of the kids weren't wearing shoes, and I didn't feel the desire to be wimpy around children who were younger than me. Yeah, until I get the underside of my foot cut.

I shook my head and focused on the children as they dispersed into the woods. They were splitting off from the main group in favor of solitude amongst the pines and oaks. The forest wasn't that dense; most of the trees were trimmed. Several of them sported large circles from where the base of limbs used to be attached to the trunks. A couple of the kids had already climbed up several of the trees; their faces peered down at me from the thick branches above. How in the world did they get up there so quickly?

I followed a little girl, who looked to be about ten, as stealthily as possible. She led me to a denser part of the forest. This area contained trees that were obviously not well kept. Their branches hung low to the ground. The leaves and thin branches intermingled, forming barriers and created walls of green and brown. The little girl was lithe, her form moving through the forest with such precision that she barely disturbed the foliage. She slipped through the branches with such an ease that I momentarily thought the tree might have been waiting to accept her into its folds. I, on the other hand, fought with the trees, their limbs scratching my skin while their roots sought to pull at my feet and trip me. I made such a racket that I was surprised the little girl didn't stop, push me into a bush, and run off.

We walked and walked, the way a constant battle, for me at least. Eventually, the girl took pity on me and took my hand in hers to make sure I did not fall behind, and I felt my face grow hot from embarrassment.

The girl noticed him long before I did. She pulled me into a glade, before holding a finger to her lips to signal my silence. I had no intention of going against her instructions. She pulled me behind a large tree trunk. We peeked our heads around the tree just as a skinny, tall boy crept into the clearing. He was crouched low, his head turning from side to side; his eyes narrowed.

He was searching for something but what? His prey?

I felt a shiver ride up my spine. What were these kids? Some kind of super humans? This didn't feel like a simple game of tag. A simple game of tag was fun, filled with giggling and laughter. Wasn't there supposed to laughter? Kids screaming out "You're it!"? Bonding?

No, this was much more extreme. It was a test of survival. A competition between the hunted and the hunter.

"I know you're here, Feather." The boy's voice floated through the air, a barking soprano. "You and the new girl."

Feather looked at me and sighed. Her eyes were calculative, no doubt weighting the probability of successfully escaping. I personally didn't see a way out for us. I doubted I could take him on, and I couldn't run as fast her through this forest. She looked at me with a kind of pity in her eyes. Damn, she sure was judgmental for a ten year old!

"Sorry," she whispered. Her hands struck out, pushing me from behind the tree into the dell where the boy stood, waiting. As I fell on to the tall grass, Feather sprinted in the opposite direction, the foliage swallowing her up immediately.

Oh God, I couldn't breath. I didn't want to turn around. He was right there. I could practically feel him approaching. I didn't want to be it! I couldn't catch these kids!

I closed my eyes, awaiting the inevitable.

"DINNER!"

A woman's voice peeled through the air.

"Aw, man!" The boy whined. I turned around, the intensity was drained from the boy. "I almost won," he crossed his arms and pouted.

I sighed in relief and laid back, extremely exhausted. The sky had faded in color. The sky was a myriad of pink, purple, and orange. It was as if a talented painter had tasked himself with painting the sky. Was it already time for dinner? Jesus, time flew by.

"Get up," the boy stood above me, holding his hand out. "We have to get to dinner, and I'll get scolded if I leave you out here by yourself."

Edited 02/01/2015: Edited by the fabulous gamegirl07...is there a way that I can just ship all my love to her in the shape of puppies? Because (assuming I had the funds) I would in a heartbeat.

Edited and Added on to 07/02/2015: I read through this scene and thought it really didn't make any sense. I edited it, fixing some errors in words and grammar and added a lot more details. I like this version more than the last one.

Edited 07/05/2015: InkstainedHands1177 has ALSO edited this chapter to make it more fluid and awesome!

(1) - I was thinking that, at this point in the Death Note timeline, there would be several sayings that probably alluded to Kira's influence. Around this time it's about April 2004, so Kira would have influenced much of the world's pop culture already.

A/N:

What do you guys think? Is the competition too intense, even in a game of tag? Perhaps I should notate everything important in the chapter here...so you guys pick up on it? What do you think? Send me a pm on your opinion...

Love,

AAnnR