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Description
Death NOTe Fan Fic.

     Rain pours from the heavens; Takero makes his way home from the stationary shop.  With his report due the following day, and the hands of the clock quickly turning to 9 p.m. Takero has little time. With his heart racing as he quickly places one foot in front of the other attempting to catch the final bus, knowing that if he fails, he must walk home, losing precious time.  Stepping into the bus, Takero’s heart begins to calm.  Unfortunately for him, as he reaches into his pocket he realizes the excess of room within.  His wallet is missing, the bus pass gone.  The bus driver kicks him off the bus, telling him one yen and a ball of lint is a joke, not payment.  Takero’s night is just beginning.

     Takero’s shopping bag with his newly bought stationary is beginning to soak, almost unable to stop the rain from penetrating the plastic of the bag.  Quickly Takero stuffs the bag under his coat, his cold slender hands gripping it tightly making sure not to let go, the stationary is his most prized possession after having lost his wallet.  The city is loud, with cars passing over puddles of rain water, covering all who stand too near the curb.  Takero’s own feet hit the water, the splashing of his feet giving warning to all ahead of him, telling them to clear a path.  His face dripping wet, his body cold, and a feeling of despair as he realizes he’s only made it two blocks down the street, with twenty or more ahead, Takero stops to catch his breath.   Being one of the lowest scoring students in Phys. Ed., Takero lacked the stamina and strength needed to make it home in one shot.

    Leaning against a closed storefront under an awning away from the rain, graffiti covering the sides of the building, Takero wipes his face, shaking some of the rain water off his body.  Takero’s thoughts kept returning to earlier in the day when an American exchange student bullied Takero for his superior intelligence and lack of brawn.  Takero knew it was not his fault.  After all, he spent all his nights studying instead of playing sports, and in the long run, Takero’s studies would take him further than sports.  The American was a fool, always forcing his American ways upon the rest.  The American’s name, Robert Hawthorne, is nearly impossible to pronounce in Japanese without sounding like an uneducated fool from Osaka, Ro-be-to Ha-ra-to-ne.

     An abrupt, loud noise boomed across the sky, snapping Takero out of his trance.  Still cold and wet, Takero heard footsteps approaching him.  Looking in their direction, he noticed two people approaching.  One shrouded in darkness, their head covered with a hoodie, while the other was a very familiar face.  Takero did not need to know the identity of the shrouded one, the face of the other was enough to make him want to move once again.  Quickly arranging the precious stationary under his coat, again gripping it tightly in his, now, slightly warm hands, Takero began moving toward the end of the street, noticing a dark patch of street where a light is out of order.  Takero knew he had to move quickly or he would be defenseless in the darkness.  Behind him, the footsteps of his pursuers sped up, rushing to catch up with him.  Takero’s heart raced, not only because his legs moved faster and faster, but because of the panic the footsteps behind him created.  As Takero entered the darkness, he felt the cold and hard embrace of the ground beneath his feet and the shock that comes with an abrupt end to his forward motion.

     After coming to, Takero felt the cold, damp water beneath him, his face moist not just from the water, but from his own blood running out from his nose.  Asphalt is painful, and Takero felt it, his hands smashed beneath him, between the hard floor and his own body, pressed against the stationary.  His hands growing colder as the water began to soak through the coat.  Looking up, Takero saw the two figures standing over him, darkness consuming them, all their features obscured. Smiling, the two figures over Takero placed the point of their feet sharply into Takero’s sides.  Mocking and shouting at Takero for running like an idiot.  Takero held on tight to the stationary, no matter what the two did letting go meant failure in his studies, failure in his life.  Their curses adding to the pain, as Takero could not understand them, the language evoked emanating harshly from their lips.  They were American, but not regular Americans, these two were monsters, ruthless hooligans, like the ones Takero was told to watch out for when he went to America.

     Eventually growing bored, the two boys dragged him farther into the darkness.  Shoving Takero against the wall, the two boys noticed Takero’s hands hidden inside his coat.  The two boys begin trying to pull his arms out from underneath, teasing him some more, punching him trying to make him flinch.  Takero, gathering every ounce of strength in his body, never gave in, eventually collapsing to the ground as the boys tired of roughing him up.  The boys walked away, claiming to have better things to do than teach lessons to puny Japanese boys.

     Lying on the floor as he regained his strength, Takero felt the pain grow as he rolled to his side.  With his arms bruised, his sides mauled, and his face pummeled, Takero began to feel the sheets of stationary with his fingers.  Takero’s only fear lay in the water beneath his feat, and the water penetrating through his coat.  For every inch of the sheet his fingertips checked, Takero’s heart beat a little faster, just a drop of water would be enough to ruin all the sheets.  With a sigh of relief, Takero smiled, shutting his eyes tightly as a feeling of joy began to fill his body, tears of happiness slowly making their way down his face, helping the rain water wash away the blood flowing from his nose and his now split lip.

     After crying for a few moments, Takero stood up, looking around and noticing the boys had faded into the crowds on the lit street.  Takero only advanced one more block, but his mood made it seem like he had but one block left to go.  With confidence in his stride, Takero advanced, limping a little.  This cruel world would leave Takero in physical disarray, but his spirit was too strong, his studies came first, nothing will stop him from finishing his report.  Takero made his way, one block after another, his limp eventually fading a little, just enough for him to jog a little faster.  Even the weather seemed to shine upon Takero as the rain began to slow down.

     Just around the bend, Takero’s home awaited for him.  The lights from within shinning out onto the street with rays of light reflecting off the still wet ground, making it shine, like a majestic and glorious road to his goal.  Takero’s thoughts filled with anticipation for warmth of his home, the feeling of a towel soaking up the rain water, and the comfort of his desk as he begins to work on his report.  His mind was so filled with thoughts of comfort; Takero obliviously stepped onto the road.  The sound of a car careening out of the way, dodging Takero, startling him, and in an instant the casualties of Takero’s feelings of euphoria were scattered throughout the street.

     Takero looked around, his house no more than twenty feet away, and he is on the floor, on all fours.  The car avoided hitting Takero, although the tail end of the vehicle managed to strike several trash cans near the curb before driving off and leaving the chaos for someone else to deal with.  Takero looked around, and raised himself to his knees, wiping the small pebbles and tiny bits of dirt from the asphalt off his hands.  Suddenly a feeling of despair struck him as all around him, laid each and every individual sheet of stationary, the pages becoming more and more ruined by the rain and dirt.  Rain once again began to fall.  This time, the rain didn’t cover all of his body, and rather it fell from his eyes.  Takero cried in the street, reaching out for the moist paper, destroying it as it crumbled between his fingers.

     Takero’s tears continued to drip from his face as another vehicle nearly collided into him.  The second vehicle swerved, missing Takero, the water splashing from the tires soaking Takero, only adding to his despair.  The driver shouting back at Takero as the car drove down the street, requesting Takero to remove himself from the road.  Takero took to his feet, shouting back at the vehicle, cursing it for his despair.  Crumbled paper still in his hands Takero began walking across the street, stepping heavily.   All hope is lost.  During class the following day, Takero would have to tell his teacher about his failure to write the report, his failure to attain proper paper, his failure to keep his wallet safe in his pocket.  He would have to tell his teacher about failure to pass the class because of all his other failures.

     Approaching the gate to his yard, Takero’s thoughts surrendered to his despair, thinking now only about entering his room and giving in to his bed.  Shutting the gate behind him, Takero felt a slight breeze shortly before hearing a sharp snap on the floor in front of him.  Takero looked down at his feet looking for what caused the bizarre noise, knowing he had nothing to drop all things he could’ve dropped had been lost to the rain.  At his feet Takero saw a black rectangular shape with a word written across the front in a contrasting white color.  The words were in Japanese, and read Death Note.  The book laid on a piece of path raised enough to keep the notebook from the damp puddles covering the floor.  The black cover seemingly made of thick leather, the white words engraved onto the notebook with white ink.

     Bending down, Takero’s cold wet fingers gripped it, feeling a cold chill run up his arm and down his spine.  A second, slight breeze made its way past Takero.  Looking in the direction of the wind, Takero saw a deformed creature, with eyes like a psychotic murderer, serrated teeth, and bones and skulls decorating its clothing, towering beside him.  It was a truly terrifying sight.  Letting out a scream, Takero’s instincts took over, his legs rushing beneath him, running straight for the door to his house.  The creature, finding this amusing, spread its tattered wings and effortlessly glided into the air, vanishing from sight.  Getting to the door, Takero reached for his key’s struggling to find them, panicking more and more, his body shaking.  Terrified to look back, Takero’s eyes fixated on the keys as he looked for the right one, jamming it into the keyhole and turning the door knob as quickly as he could.

     Tumbling into his house, Takero rolled as he hit the floor, quickly kicking the door shut catching a glimpse of the outside before the door shut all the way.  The creature outside was gone; at least, Takero did not see the creature outside anymore.  Once again lying on the floor, seemingly his one place of comfort in this world, Takero sat there catching his breath and waiting in silence.

     It seemed like an eternity, but nothing came.  Nothing happened.  The notebook still in his hands, Takero stood up, and approached the door.  Cracking it open, Takero looked out, peering into the night.  The creature was gone; there was no sign of it.  Takero began blaming his panicked nature, claiming to himself that it was a mere figment of his imagination.  A terrifying figment of his imagination.  Shutting the door again, Takero started removing his coat.  Thinking about his report, knowing not turning it in would result in failure of the class.  He began to remove his shoes, stepping into some slippers before making his way up stairs to his room.

     Arriving at his room, Takero set the notebook down looking into a small mirror on his desk, noticing his wounds from the day.  His parted lip and bloody nose now dry of blood washed away by the rain.  Standing up again, and grabbing a towel from his closet, Takero began drying himself, as he sat down at his desk.  There was no paper anywhere on his desk, not a sheet of lose leaf paper, or a notebook, aside from the new one found on the floor outside.  Takero looked at the notebook, reading the title on the outside.  Death Note.  Takero opened it up curious as to what kind of person labels their note book something so silly and immature.  He imagined it would probably be a middle school girl who was into Goth or super natural things; this sort of book did not seem like something a boy would normally carry with him.

     The thick leather was stiff, making for a good front cover, keeping the books interior dry and straight, not a single crease inhabited the notebook.  On the inside of the books several notes were written, stating silly rules only a fool would believe.  The human whose name is written in the note shall die, was the first rule written in the book.  There several more rules there, many of them seeming more and more like an e-mail delivered directly into the junk e-mail folder of anyone’s inbox.  Takero ignored it, noticing the notebook was empty, with not so much as a person’s name written in it.  For the craftsmanship of the notebook, this seemed a little fancier than an average notebook, making it surprising the owner did not place his name on the cover, or at least in one of the pages.

     This notebook had fallen from the heavens, landed dry amongst the rain water, and through his panic to enter the house had not been creased once.  This was no ordinary book.  This book was here to save Takero’s life.  Not those bullies, not the rain, not even whatever that creature would stop him now.  Takero picked up a pen; he knew what he had to do.  With a graceful flick of the wrist, Takero began writing in the notebook.

     Another cool wind blew; the sound of quiet cackling filled the room.  Takero turned in his chair only to find the demon floating in his room; its wings spread from one side of the room to the other.  The creature hunched to fit under the roof of Takero’s room.  Takero shrieked again, this time with nowhere to run, his hand reaching for a weapon on his desk finding only a pen.  Takero brought the pen forth and threatened the creature to stay away.  The creature merely cackled, complementing Takero on his choice weapon, as it would be what would kill him.  Takero did not understand, Takero continued screaming at the demon, telling him to leave him alone.  The demon smiled, bidding farewell to Takero as it approached the notebook.

     As the demon made contact with the notebook, Takero fell from his chair.  His body lying motionless on the floor as the monster revealed his true nature, a Shinigami, a god of death.  As the monster started to fly away it opened the notebook to see what was written inside:  Itou-Takero Class C-2    Report on physics and the world.  The demons cackle grew to laughter, as it vanished through the ceiling.  Still lying limp on the floor, Takero’s breath and heartbeat disappear as he grows colder while clutching his chest.  The earth would soon comfort him eternally. Takero needs no longer worry about his report.  His teacher would surely understand and forgive him for not turning it in.

Description
Death NOTe Fan Fic.

     Rain pours from the heavens; Takero makes his way home from the stationary shop.  With his report due the following day, and the hands of the clock quickly turning to 9 p.m. Takero has little time. With his heart racing as he quickly places one foot in front of the other attempting to catch the final bus, knowing that if he fails, he must walk home, losing precious time.  Stepping into the bus, Takero’s heart begins to calm.  Unfortunately for him, as he reaches into his pocket he realizes the excess of room within.  His wallet is missing, the bus pass gone.  The bus driver kicks him off the bus, telling him one yen and a ball of lint is a joke, not payment.  Takero’s night is just beginning.

     Takero’s shopping bag with his newly bought stationary is beginning to soak, almost unable to stop the rain from penetrating the plastic of the bag.  Quickly Takero stuffs the bag under his coat, his cold slender hands gripping it tightly making sure not to let go, the stationary is his most prized possession after having lost his wallet.  The city is loud, with cars passing over puddles of rain water, covering all who stand too near the curb.  Takero’s own feet hit the water, the splashing of his feet giving warning to all ahead of him, telling them to clear a path.  His face dripping wet, his body cold, and a feeling of despair as he realizes he’s only made it two blocks down the street, with twenty or more ahead, Takero stops to catch his breath.   Being one of the lowest scoring students in Phys. Ed., Takero lacked the stamina and strength needed to make it home in one shot.

    Leaning against a closed storefront under an awning away from the rain, graffiti covering the sides of the building, Takero wipes his face, shaking some of the rain water off his body.  Takero’s thoughts kept returning to earlier in the day when an American exchange student bullied Takero for his superior intelligence and lack of brawn.  Takero knew it was not his fault.  After all, he spent all his nights studying instead of playing sports, and in the long run, Takero’s studies would take him further than sports.  The American was a fool, always forcing his American ways upon the rest.  The American’s name, Robert Hawthorne, is nearly impossible to pronounce in Japanese without sounding like an uneducated fool from Osaka, Ro-be-to Ha-ra-to-ne.

     An abrupt, loud noise boomed across the sky, snapping Takero out of his trance.  Still cold and wet, Takero heard footsteps approaching him.  Looking in their direction, he noticed two people approaching.  One shrouded in darkness, their head covered with a hoodie, while the other was a very familiar face.  Takero did not need to know the identity of the shrouded one, the face of the other was enough to make him want to move once again.  Quickly arranging the precious stationary under his coat, again gripping it tightly in his, now, slightly warm hands, Takero began moving toward the end of the street, noticing a dark patch of street where a light is out of order.  Takero knew he had to move quickly or he would be defenseless in the darkness.  Behind him, the footsteps of his pursuers sped up, rushing to catch up with him.  Takero’s heart raced, not only because his legs moved faster and faster, but because of the panic the footsteps behind him created.  As Takero entered the darkness, he felt the cold and hard embrace of the ground beneath his feet and the shock that comes with an abrupt end to his forward motion.

     After coming to, Takero felt the cold, damp water beneath him, his face moist not just from the water, but from his own blood running out from his nose.  Asphalt is painful, and Takero felt it, his hands smashed beneath him, between the hard floor and his own body, pressed against the stationary.  His hands growing colder as the water began to soak through the coat.  Looking up, Takero saw the two figures standing over him, darkness consuming them, all their features obscured. Smiling, the two figures over Takero placed the point of their feet sharply into Takero’s sides.  Mocking and shouting at Takero for running like an idiot.  Takero held on tight to the stationary, no matter what the two did letting go meant failure in his studies, failure in his life.  Their curses adding to the pain, as Takero could not understand them, the language evoked emanating harshly from their lips.  They were American, but not regular Americans, these two were monsters, ruthless hooligans, like the ones Takero was told to watch out for when he went to America.

     Eventually growing bored, the two boys dragged him farther into the darkness.  Shoving Takero against the wall, the two boys noticed Takero’s hands hidden inside his coat.  The two boys begin trying to pull his arms out from underneath, teasing him some more, punching him trying to make him flinch.  Takero, gathering every ounce of strength in his body, never gave in, eventually collapsing to the ground as the boys tired of roughing him up.  The boys walked away, claiming to have better things to do than teach lessons to puny Japanese boys.

     Lying on the floor as he regained his strength, Takero felt the pain grow as he rolled to his side.  With his arms bruised, his sides mauled, and his face pummeled, Takero began to feel the sheets of stationary with his fingers.  Takero’s only fear lay in the water beneath his feat, and the water penetrating through his coat.  For every inch of the sheet his fingertips checked, Takero’s heart beat a little faster, just a drop of water would be enough to ruin all the sheets.  With a sigh of relief, Takero smiled, shutting his eyes tightly as a feeling of joy began to fill his body, tears of happiness slowly making their way down his face, helping the rain water wash away the blood flowing from his nose and his now split lip.

     After crying for a few moments, Takero stood up, looking around and noticing the boys had faded into the crowds on the lit street.  Takero only advanced one more block, but his mood made it seem like he had but one block left to go.  With confidence in his stride, Takero advanced, limping a little.  This cruel world would leave Takero in physical disarray, but his spirit was too strong, his studies came first, nothing will stop him from finishing his report.  Takero made his way, one block after another, his limp eventually fading a little, just enough for him to jog a little faster.  Even the weather seemed to shine upon Takero as the rain began to slow down.

     Just around the bend, Takero’s home awaited for him.  The lights from within shinning out onto the street with rays of light reflecting off the still wet ground, making it shine, like a majestic and glorious road to his goal.  Takero’s thoughts filled with anticipation for warmth of his home, the feeling of a towel soaking up the rain water, and the comfort of his desk as he begins to work on his report.  His mind was so filled with thoughts of comfort; Takero obliviously stepped onto the road.  The sound of a car careening out of the way, dodging Takero, startling him, and in an instant the casualties of Takero’s feelings of euphoria were scattered throughout the street.

     Takero looked around, his house no more than twenty feet away, and he is on the floor, on all fours.  The car avoided hitting Takero, although the tail end of the vehicle managed to strike several trash cans near the curb before driving off and leaving the chaos for someone else to deal with.  Takero looked around, and raised himself to his knees, wiping the small pebbles and tiny bits of dirt from the asphalt off his hands.  Suddenly a feeling of despair struck him as all around him, laid each and every individual sheet of stationary, the pages becoming more and more ruined by the rain and dirt.  Rain once again began to fall.  This time, the rain didn’t cover all of his body, and rather it fell from his eyes.  Takero cried in the street, reaching out for the moist paper, destroying it as it crumbled between his fingers.

     Takero’s tears continued to drip from his face as another vehicle nearly collided into him.  The second vehicle swerved, missing Takero, the water splashing from the tires soaking Takero, only adding to his despair.  The driver shouting back at Takero as the car drove down the street, requesting Takero to remove himself from the road.  Takero took to his feet, shouting back at the vehicle, cursing it for his despair.  Crumbled paper still in his hands Takero began walking across the street, stepping heavily.   All hope is lost.  During class the following day, Takero would have to tell his teacher about his failure to write the report, his failure to attain proper paper, his failure to keep his wallet safe in his pocket.  He would have to tell his teacher about failure to pass the class because of all his other failures.

     Approaching the gate to his yard, Takero’s thoughts surrendered to his despair, thinking now only about entering his room and giving in to his bed.  Shutting the gate behind him, Takero felt a slight breeze shortly before hearing a sharp snap on the floor in front of him.  Takero looked down at his feet looking for what caused the bizarre noise, knowing he had nothing to drop all things he could’ve dropped had been lost to the rain.  At his feet Takero saw a black rectangular shape with a word written across the front in a contrasting white color.  The words were in Japanese, and read Death Note.  The book laid on a piece of path raised enough to keep the notebook from the damp puddles covering the floor.  The black cover seemingly made of thick leather, the white words engraved onto the notebook with white ink.

     Bending down, Takero’s cold wet fingers gripped it, feeling a cold chill run up his arm and down his spine.  A second, slight breeze made its way past Takero.  Looking in the direction of the wind, Takero saw a deformed creature, with eyes like a psychotic murderer, serrated teeth, and bones and skulls decorating its clothing, towering beside him.  It was a truly terrifying sight.  Letting out a scream, Takero’s instincts took over, his legs rushing beneath him, running straight for the door to his house.  The creature, finding this amusing, spread its tattered wings and effortlessly glided into the air, vanishing from sight.  Getting to the door, Takero reached for his key’s struggling to find them, panicking more and more, his body shaking.  Terrified to look back, Takero’s eyes fixated on the keys as he looked for the right one, jamming it into the keyhole and turning the door knob as quickly as he could.

     Tumbling into his house, Takero rolled as he hit the floor, quickly kicking the door shut catching a glimpse of the outside before the door shut all the way.  The creature outside was gone; at least, Takero did not see the creature outside anymore.  Once again lying on the floor, seemingly his one place of comfort in this world, Takero sat there catching his breath and waiting in silence.

     It seemed like an eternity, but nothing came.  Nothing happened.  The notebook still in his hands, Takero stood up, and approached the door.  Cracking it open, Takero looked out, peering into the night.  The creature was gone; there was no sign of it.  Takero began blaming his panicked nature, claiming to himself that it was a mere figment of his imagination.  A terrifying figment of his imagination.  Shutting the door again, Takero started removing his coat.  Thinking about his report, knowing not turning it in would result in failure of the class.  He began to remove his shoes, stepping into some slippers before making his way up stairs to his room.

     Arriving at his room, Takero set the notebook down looking into a small mirror on his desk, noticing his wounds from the day.  His parted lip and bloody nose now dry of blood washed away by the rain.  Standing up again, and grabbing a towel from his closet, Takero began drying himself, as he sat down at his desk.  There was no paper anywhere on his desk, not a sheet of lose leaf paper, or a notebook, aside from the new one found on the floor outside.  Takero looked at the notebook, reading the title on the outside.  Death Note.  Takero opened it up curious as to what kind of person labels their note book something so silly and immature.  He imagined it would probably be a middle school girl who was into Goth or super natural things; this sort of book did not seem like something a boy would normally carry with him.

     The thick leather was stiff, making for a good front cover, keeping the books interior dry and straight, not a single crease inhabited the notebook.  On the inside of the books several notes were written, stating silly rules only a fool would believe.  The human whose name is written in the note shall die, was the first rule written in the book.  There several more rules there, many of them seeming more and more like an e-mail delivered directly into the junk e-mail folder of anyone’s inbox.  Takero ignored it, noticing the notebook was empty, with not so much as a person’s name written in it.  For the craftsmanship of the notebook, this seemed a little fancier than an average notebook, making it surprising the owner did not place his name on the cover, or at least in one of the pages.

     This notebook had fallen from the heavens, landed dry amongst the rain water, and through his panic to enter the house had not been creased once.  This was no ordinary book.  This book was here to save Takero’s life.  Not those bullies, not the rain, not even whatever that creature would stop him now.  Takero picked up a pen; he knew what he had to do.  With a graceful flick of the wrist, Takero began writing in the notebook.

     Another cool wind blew; the sound of quiet cackling filled the room.  Takero turned in his chair only to find the demon floating in his room; its wings spread from one side of the room to the other.  The creature hunched to fit under the roof of Takero’s room.  Takero shrieked again, this time with nowhere to run, his hand reaching for a weapon on his desk finding only a pen.  Takero brought the pen forth and threatened the creature to stay away.  The creature merely cackled, complementing Takero on his choice weapon, as it would be what would kill him.  Takero did not understand, Takero continued screaming at the demon, telling him to leave him alone.  The demon smiled, bidding farewell to Takero as it approached the notebook.

     As the demon made contact with the notebook, Takero fell from his chair.  His body lying motionless on the floor as the monster revealed his true nature, a Shinigami, a god of death.  As the monster started to fly away it opened the notebook to see what was written inside:  Itou-Takero Class C-2    Report on physics and the world.  The demons cackle grew to laughter, as it vanished through the ceiling.  Still lying limp on the floor, Takero’s breath and heartbeat disappear as he grows colder while clutching his chest.  The earth would soon comfort him eternally. Takero needs no longer worry about his report.  His teacher would surely understand and forgive him for not turning it in.