Disclaimer-Death Note does not belong to me. The end.

Did someone throw a notebook off the roof? Light thought to herself; wrapping her ink stained hands around the glossy black cover. This looked like it was the same notebook she had seen falling outside the classroom window earlier this morning. She turned it over in her hands and saw that on the front emblazoned in a white, scrawling script were two words—

Death Note

For an instant Light felt like laughing. A death god's notebook written in English yet dropped in Japan? This must be someone's sick idea of a joke. Instead she asked herself "Why are so many people into these kinds of morbid things?" and shoved the little black notebook into the depths of her backpack.

Even after ridding the moribund book from her sight she was plagued by thoughts of it throughout the entire trip home.

"Mom! I'm home!" Light called out half an hour later, kicking her shoes off at the doorway. Her mother appeared in a flash; all beaming smiles and suffocating parental pride.

"Hello honey! How was school?"

"Boring, as usual." Light called back as she took the stairs up to her room two at a time.

An instant later Light was closing and locking the door to with one hand shifting through her bag for the Death Note with the other. After putting it in the center of her desk Light perched above it, reading.

"Just write a name in here and imagine their face and they will die huh? Let's test that out." She snatched up a nearby ink pen and opened the Death Note to the first page.

…but didn't write anything down.

What if this isn't a joke? What if I kill an innocent human being? Can I live with that? She could, Light decided but--It would have to be someone who deserved it—a criminal. Then Light was faced with a second problem: where to find a criminal worth killing.

Which wasn't a problem at all once she turned on the television.

"The man who indiscriminately killed and wounded six people yesterday in Shinjuku is still barricaded inside this nursery school, with eight hostages, including little children. The metropolitan police have determined the man's identity. He is Kurou Otoharada, 42 years old and unemployed. Two days ago, Otoharada—"

Light had heard enough. After quick glance at the man's face and the spelling of his name Light made her choice. She made sure each letter was neat and clear but left the cause of death blank.

Heart attack, right?Or at least that was what the instructions said.

Her attention was soon split between the clock and the live broadcast to the point she was counting each second as it went by.

Why do I keep expecting something to happen—

"What's this…!? The hostages are coming out! They seem to be all right. And now the police going in! Will they be able to arrest Otoharada?!"

It couldn't be…

"They're…coming back out! Blah blah. What exactly is going on? Blah blah. But no sign of their captor just yet."

That's impossible.

"This just in! The captor is inside the nursery school, and he is dead! It appears Otoharada is dead!"

"Dead!?" Light gasped, her face a mask of shock and horror at this simple truth.

"The police are emphasizing that they did NOT shoot him. Could that mean he committed suicide? Well, the hostages are apparently saying that he suddenly collapsed…"

A heart attack!?

Suddenly Light was a lot less bored.

The next day Light found herself immersed in a book. Unfortunately she couldn't really remember the book's title or main character's name. Maybe it would be more accurate to say she was immersed in thoughts about the Death Note?

Her mind kept returning to that strange little notebook. Had what she seen been true? Could she really kill someone with their name and little more? Had she imagined it all?

She had been so distracted in class today that even her most unobservant teacher noticed. That and someone had bounced a pen off her head—maybe she should find out whoever had done that and kill them?

Then again it would probably be a bad idea to kill someone at school. Best to stick with people she didn't personally know.

"Hey girlie!" a rough looking biker said, his voice easily recognizable even through glass. Light couldn't help but notice the attractive woman he was talking to.

Please tell me this idiot is smart enough to realize…

"How 'bout havin' some fun wit' me tonight?"

Guess not. Geeze, what a slime bag.

"I… don't think so…" The woman replied while taking small, delicate steps away from the biker as if he had some contagious disease. Light couldn't blame her.

"My name's Takuo Shibuimaru, that's Shibutaku for short. Heh heh… Come on girlie, how about it?" Light felt like gagging. What an idiot!

Apparently he has done this before; he even gave her his name so she would know what to write on the restraining order.

and really, Shibutaku? Cool Taku? What has this guy been smoking?

"Umm…no." Apparently this woman shared Light's opinion about men with such horrid hygiene problems. Unfortunately Takuo just couldn't get a hint.

Maybe…This could be the perfect opportunity to test out the Death Note!

Ever since its initial test with Otoharada Light had kept the Death Note near to her at all times. Better safe than sorry after all. So now all she had to do was pull the little black book from her bag, grab a pen and write.

Takuo Shibuimaru. Traffic accident.

Better write it a couple of times just to be sure.

Takuo Shibuimaru. Traffic accident.

Takuo Shibuimaru. Traffic accident.

Takuo Shibuimaru. Traffic accident.

Now I just need to wait.

Forty seconds later Light heard tires shriek and a crash of metal against metal and someone screaming. Takou was dead.

Light felt like she was going to be sick.

Four days later she met Ryuk.

"Seems like you like it," a grave voice commented without concern. Light thought for a moment she was the one that was going to have the heart attack.

Then she turned around. Bad idea. So she kept turning and just hoped that she had accidentally walked into some hallucinogens on the way home. Going crazy was easier than talking to a…


"Eh, so you know what I am. Aren't you afraid?" The leather adorned Death God questioned. Light noticed disinterestedly he dressed an awful lot like that Takuo guy.

"No, I have been expecting you for several days now. Ever since I have written in this book," to prove her point Light tapped one painfully short fingernail on the glossy black cover of the Death Note.

"So you know what it does,"

"Of course but I do…have a question." The God of Death made a small sound in the back of his throat; like a lion's purr. Light took this as a signal to continue, "What happens to me now? Are you going to take my soul or something? Am I to be punished for killing so many people?"

The gruesome spirit made another sound, this time like the hum of a thousand wasps, "Of course not. Where do you humans come up with these things?" He turned one decaying eye to the mortal he was bound to, "Just how many people have you killed? It's only been five days."

Light opened up the first page of the Death Note. The shinigami made a sound akin to choking on kittens. Names were scrawled on every inch of parchment; so many it was impossible to count them all. Well over a hundred; possibly over three.

"You've certainly been busy haven't you?" It wasn't a question Light felt like answering. "My name is Ryuk and I think we're going to get along great."

"So you're not going to kill me?"

"I will—"Light stiffened, "But not yet. One day it will be I who writes your name in this book but until then, I'm just here to watch." Light wondered if that was supposed to comfort her.

It didn't.

"So, Ryuk, right? Mind clearing up a couple of things for me?" Ryuk just laughed.

"Sure, but only if you get something for me."

"And that would be?"

"An apple, of course."

Light could feel a headache forming.