Chapter 1

The Girl, The Book, The Victim

It was raining, and the gentle patter set the background noise throughout the classroom.

Skinny and straight with small, beady eyes, the teacher droned on at the front of the class, fully aware that no one was listening to her. She lulled a fortunate few to sleep while the rest, although fully awake, felt content to let her words go in one ear and out of the other. Hatori, a dim figure in the back, was one of those students, more focused on the soft thumping sound her nimble fingers made as she tapped against the desk softly.

She absolutely hated the rain. Seldom did rain bring anything, but when it did, it was never pleasant. Like its presence could drum up any lingering misfortune in the world and triple it, only to dole it out to the most misfortunate. And Hatori, unfortunately, was nothing if not misfortunate. She had broken her leg in the rain, got mugged on the eve of a thunderstorm, and lost her family during a particularly brazen downpour. Yes, if rain accompanied anything, it was misfortune, and today, the thick petrichor seeped through the panes lining the schoolroom windows.

Hatori's musings are interrupted when a small, almost unnoticeable thing hurtled through the air and smacked against the pavement four stories down. She found herself leaning forward to peer at the object as it fell. From what she could tell, it was a thin, sturdy object. It was probably small enough to fit in her hands.

It was curious, but after it fell, nothing of note happened. The rain slowed to a drizzle and she could see it better without the hindrance. She realized it was a book.

How odd.

She was on the highest floor of the high school, only topped by the roof above her, which the school had closed down access to after an unlucky student 'fell' off the edge of it. Her name was Hana. She was lovely, and since her departure, the roof was blocked off. No one had been able to grace the top of the high school for the last half year, not even faculty. Accidents could happen to anyone, after all, teachers were no exception.

So where did the book come from?

Students cluttered the yard as the school day ended, some on their phones, most clustered into smaller groups, and the rare few walking with their heads down in a book.

The book remained untouched.

Students walked past the book, next to the book, and one even ran through the grass and right over it, but they never seemed to notice it. It wasn't until the rush dwindled, and after detention officially started, that someone stopped in front of it. A boy wearing the same cream-colored uniform as her, with chestnut hair and a particularly amiable face. His cuffs met his wrist, folded back and over the sleeves of his blazer neatly, the button-up he sported tucked in just as meticulously, quite unlike Hatori's rolled back sleeves and messy half-tucked uniform.

Light Yagami walked like he knew exactly where to go. Strolling into the courtyard, his head turned toward the spot where the book lay off the sidewalk's path. Hatori frowned , her eyebrows crinkling at her brother as his outstretched hand lifted the Death Note into his arms.

--------

"Tadaima," she called out, slipping her shoes off in the doorway.

Her mother called back from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of running water as she scurried around the kitchen.

Hatori grunted in reply as she brushed past the living room, slowing to ruffle the head of hair that peaked over the couch and giggling as Sayu gave an indignant shout. She smiled to herself as she stomped up the stairs to Light's room.

His door was wide open, lecture notes waiting for her on the bed. Light hummed in greeting from his desk as she threw herself onto his bed and flopped onto the floor, notes in hand.

Light let her use the notes he took in class since his course load at the academy was too far ahead of their school's curriculum for him to struggle with it. He took notes during the day to review for what he had learned before while the rest of the class took notes on what they were learning.

Having a genius brother came in hand occasionally.

She flipped through his notes, pretending to focus. After a few minutes of absentmindedly skimming, her gaze drifts.

On the floor next to his chair, Light's bag was unzipped, each side of the bag pushed out to reveal the inside. Peeking from the top of the bag was one small, obsidian dark notebook with two insidious words plastered across it in an odd, choppy font.

Death Note.

She sits up straight.

"That black notebook from the courtyard. What was it?" She asks.

''You saw that? Some prank death book. Apparently, if you write a name in it, you can kill someone with a heart attack," he chuckles, swiveling to face her. "Why?''

"I'm curious, that sounds interesting. You don't want to try it out?" She smiled, patting the spot next to her, moving over to make more room duvet.

He sighs exaggeratedly.

"First detention, now murder. You'll make a fine member of the community one day,'' Light jokes. Despite his teasing, Light pulls the book from his bag and flicks the TV on, moving toward Hatori.

The baritone of a prominent newscaster fills the room as Light settles next to her, their thighs touching as they sit on the bed. From the TV, the newscaster reports the assault of two women and a public hostage situation.

She takes the book from him. The cover feels like leather left to dry in the sun on her palms. As she pushes it open, thumbing through the pages, a soft pulsing sounds in her ears.

In the background, the TV sputters, a surge in the volume as chaos erupted. Someone had been stabbed.

"This is one freaky book, " she mutters, ignoring the feeling of dread that fills her as she looks at it.

"You're the one who wanted to write in it. That guy on the TV is Sumida Aoi.You know, just in case you want to become a warrior of justice," Light mocks, lighthearted and playful, as he pushes a pen into her hand and her heart begins to beat faster.

His shoulder presses against hers as he leans closer to watch as she puts ink to the paper, sprawling the small, simple characters to Sumida's name.

The pulsing sound quiets.

Hatori listens and waits for the newscaster's voice as she looks up at the screen and Light's eyes turn to her, rapt with attention. She doesn't notice.

Then, the screen goes silent.

The newsman sighs a breath of relief as he reports the death of one Sumida Aoi. A sudden heart attack caused by the stress and prolonged tension of the situation - a miracle, he explains. They hear a soft-spoken woman sobbing softly into the crews' sound equipment.

Light's eyes catch the light of the lamp and glow a dim, deep red. The pallor of his cheeks tinting the faintest pink as he watches for Hatori's reaction, a keen glint in his gaze.

Hatori scurries toward the TV and grabs it, a hand on either side of the screen. In the broadcast's reflection, her eyes widen as the moment replays itself live on the news. He reaches for a woman, snatching her by the neck as she tries to untangle herself from him. Her limbs flail awkwardly for a moment, but stills as he holds the knife under her jaw, pressing it into her skin.

He barely finishes making his demands before he pauses. The dark of his pupils expand, the light fading so quickly. One second he looks like a man, the next he doesn't look like anything at all.

The woman gives one last, frantic shove and breaks free, sprinting away. His hand seizes his chest. The man turns to the cameras as his mouth falls open, but the words never come out. Wherever they go, they follow him. Perhaps inward, she thinks, perhaps the light in his eyes doesn't go out, but falls backward and deeply. For a short, inhumane second, Hatori is transfixed. Her fingers graze the image on the screen as he crumbles into himself, crashing to the ground formlessly.

Her eyes stay glued to the live cast. His body sits in the middle of the screen for a full minute before the camera cuts out and the image flickers to a horrified newswoman.

He's dead.

She falls backward, tumbling into the side of Light's bed frame. Short, ragged heaves fill the room as tries to force air into her chest. 

She was a murderer.

Author's Note: This is cross- posted from ao3 with the same title, different username and different chapter name I think. I finally started and completed some outlines for the multiple fanfics I'm working on, but I decided to delete some of my other works here just in case anyone was curious. 

I view this chapter as a necessary evil because I do not like it very much, but the next chapter is definitely more entertaining, at least to me. Stay tuned for more if you like what you've read so far!

Also, vote, criticize, compliment, pm. Whatever you feel like doing, I've pretty much lost interest in the Wattled algorithm since I'm more hyper focused on finishing at least one of my numerous fanfics by summer's end. 

See ya!