214 My CO Stash #14 - The Human Stains by Claudaujay (DeathNoteXOregairu)

-I wasn't expecting a crossover fic of Death Note & Oregairu to work but it did, and damn did it exceed my expectations(considerably low but that's the key to happiness). Yukino being Kira and Hachiman being L was just fantastic! It was on hiatus for a year or so but luckily the author seem to have gotten rid of his writer's block and plans on actually finishing this story!

Sypnosis: Yukinoshita Yukino was just a teenager before she discovered the Death Note. Now, she is Kira: the God of a brave new world. Or she will be, unless two other Sobu High students, calling themselves H, have something to say about it..

Rated: T

Words: 43K

Posted on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13027706/1/The-Human-Stains (Claudaujay)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1

Act One: Hurricane

Yukinoshita Yukino was waiting for her family's limousine to arrive when she discovered the notebook.

It was about an hour and a half after the ending of the school day. Sobu High was a Japanese highschool that, from the outset, appeared as innocent and painstakingly normal as the next. True, the students that attended were of an intellect that exceeded the national average- students with lofty aspirations, looking to attend the best universities and thus open the door to the occupation of their dreams. Perhaps one or two of these students might be found on the National Diet in a couple of years, running the country according to whichever political agenda they found themselves most convinced by. But, in its appearance, in the manner by which the school was run, you could hardly separate it from the others in the city of Chiba, and indeed from any other school in the country.

This might have played into why this girl in particular stood out so boldly. She was the highest achiever in an array of high achievers, and furthermore, it had always been this way for her. Yukinoshita Yukino had topped the tables of class attainment in elementary and middle school; throughout her two years of attendance at Sobu High, the high standards she prided herself in had shown no signs of letting up. Her unconditional aptitude at whatever she set her mind to and her willingness to study was matched only by her striking beauty. Many boys, drawn in by the charm of her waist length raven hair and ice-like blue eyes, had rushed themselves into confessing to her, completely forgetting that getting to know her might be important. If they had paid even the slightest attention to her aloof personality, they would've realised the chances of her accepting their confessions were minimal at best. None had succeeded in charming her in return, so far.

But such noteworthy prospects, while having their fair share of perks, could just as well be considered a hinderance. Jealousy was a natural human instinct; it moderation, it can compel us to change for the better, but there was something in Yukinoshita Yukino that always brought out the worst in her classmates. In elementary, she'd had her indoor shoes stolen on dozens of occasions. She had counted every single one of these thefts, but remembering them brought back other, even more painful memories. She had learnt it was better to concentrate on the present, or ruminate on the future, than to linger on the scars of the past.

Ambition often comes hand in hand with youth, but similar to how things had unravelled throughout her life in academics, Yukino's dreams also exceeded those of her classmates. She'd become convinced, more so by negative reinforcement, that humans were ugly creatures. Animals propelled by instinct and hatred and lust and greed. Everytime she glanced at a news website, or saw the headline of a paper, she felt the same bile rising in her throat. The same disgust. She saw injustice, and as pessimists often did, she failed to notice the accompanying silver lining. To her, the world was a clock that had ceased to tick before she was even born- a miserable, broken thing, in desperate need of repair. Yukinoshita Yukino didn't just want to rule the world. She wanted to change it. To mould it into any shape, or form, that she desired.

Call it fate, call it destiny... but why is it that power always seems to fall into the wrong hands?

The teenager had just spent an hour at an after school club that, after weeks of pestering from the school's guidance counsellor, Hiratsuka Shizuka, she had agreed to help establish. Currently, she was the only member of the Service Club, and the work in question consisted of sitting around reading in wait for their first client. In other words, Yukino had much more productive ways to spend her time, but she couldn't help but admit it had become one of the more therapeutic parts of her routine. Reading had always been a fond hobby, and the Service Club room granted the peace and quiet to indulge in said hobby while also maintaining the image she embodied- that of a well meaning, hard working student.

Yet she couldn't deny it frustrated her at times. Reforming and helping students was an admirable objective, one that fit into her ideals, but she couldn't do much to change things if people didn't want to be changed. She had been attending the Service Club for close to a month now, and not once had its front door been opened by anyone except herself. As a result, in her frustration, she'd decided to lock up the clubroom with fifteen minutes to spare. The limousine always arrived at five o'clock sharp, meaning she had five minutes of waiting by the school gates until it did so.

In the position Yukino was standing, she could see out onto the street outside the school building. Hit by a bout of uncharacteristic impatience, she began to pace up and down.

Then, she saw it. A flash of jet-black, in the corner of her eye.

She turned her head, glancing down to the bushes on the right side of the gate. There, almost fully concealed from view by the wilting autumn foliage, was the bottom corner of what appeared to be some kind of book.

Frowning, she walked over and bent down. At closer inspection, it didn't appear to be a school textbook that another of the pupils might have dropped in their haste to return home. She tugged at its edge, releasing it from the hold of the bush.

No. It was a notebook. A diary perhaps?

She turned it over, only to feel her confusion mounting as two words, penned in swirling white text, came into view.

DEATH NOTE

She opened it. On the back of the front cover was more of the same writing.

HOW TO USE IT:

The human whose name is written in this book shall die.

This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name.

Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.

If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart atta-

Yukino snapped the notebook shut.

Ridiculous, she thought dismissively. This kind of nonsensical rubbish was precisely why she had already begun to lose hope in her classmates. Their sense of humour was beyond immature, and incidentally, precisely why nobody with a single cell of logic in their brain could possibly take them seriously. The person who came up with this joke, and then actually exerted the effort to make it seem even vaguely credible, had all the qualifications to be a NEET.

She stood up and returned to the position she'd taken up earlier.

A couple of moments later, she glanced back.

Well... credit where credit was due. Despite the fact that this little prank was painfully unfunny, and what's more didn't seem to have a punchline, the notebook itself was quite effective. When she read the so-called "rules", she had felt something akin to a shiver running down her spine. And, judging from the way the book had been thrown into the bushes, the reaction elicited from the first person to discover it had been similar.

Yukino looked over her shoulder. Was the laughter still to come? Was someone filming her, eagerly anticipating her reaction? Surely not. It was two hours after closing time.

She shook her head. Just ignore it.

And yet, only a heartbeat later, she found herself picking up and opening the notebook once more.

After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

A very specific number.

...

Even if it was fake or not, Yukino couldn't deny that her curiosity had been piqued. She was a natural learner, and by extension, naturally inquisitive. A part of her was sure that she wouldn't be satisfied until she took a closer look at this "Death Note". Even if it ended in embarrassment, she had experienced a fair share of that throughout her school life, and knew full well how to stomach it. So, the item in question found its way into her schoolbag.

Five minutes later, the limousine arrived, and she returned to her apartment. Just as normal.

Later that night, Yukino found herself sat at her desk, with a copy of her favourite book in her lap. Her writing tastes were broad and extensive: she could be found reading anything from children's books to the philosophical works of Friedrich Nietzsche in virtually the same breath. The title of the book most dear to her lay more so in the territory of the former; a publication initially intended for children called Pan-san the Panda, though of course Yukino would hear nothing of it if someone suggested that a girl of her maturity should have outgrown it. The various merchandise of the character that she had made a habit of collecting only underlined this stubbornness- piles of plushies and models, all lined up around the headrest of her bed and bookshelves.

Her homework had been completed immediately upon entering her apartment, as had also become habitual for her. She had decided to spend the following hours re-immersing herself in the story. Though the words were as familiar to her as the air she breathed (she knew large swathes of the text off by heart), they never once failed to soothe her if the stress of schoolwork decided to make itself painfully known.

But on this occasion, her attentions were occupied by a book of a different sort.

After ploughing her way through another page, Yukino's eyes would casually fall down to the schoolbag, and in turn, the contents that continued to tease her. It took something of great magnitude to distract her if she didn't wish to be. Why had a find so seemingly inconsequential captured her imagination like this?

For around half an hour more, she strove to ignore the urge to open the bag, until finally it overcame her. The cheerful illustrations of a children's book were replaced by something of far greater consequence.

She opened it and glanced over the rules once more, again noting how carefully thought out they seemed to be. Each had a puzzling sense of plausibility to them, despite the staggering implausibility of the subject which they concerned.

Just imagine if this were actually real. To hold a pen in one's hand and do something so simple as writing a name, and yet, to know that in that pen's ink lay a greater power than any human could possibly dream of. The power to alter, to manipulate, to control someone's life, as if it were just an ant crawling on the floor. An ant that was just begging to be stepped on.

It was a fascinating concept... but surely only a hypothetical one.

Right?

All of a sudden, Yukinoshita Yukino found herself picking up both the notebook and a pen from her desk, and heading over to the TV in the living room of her apartment. She sat on the sofa, placing both items on the glass table in front of it, and then switched the screen onto the news channel.

'Breaking News: Crisis in Tokyo day care centre as man holds eight hostages at gunpoint.'

Her eyes narrowed as the story unfolded in front of her. The female news anchor, present at the scene, was the only person even attempting to keep a neutral face. Around her, the scream of onlookers could be heard, distorting the audio of the broadcast.

'The man broke into the centre only an hour ago, armed with a revolver. He claims that he will shoot those still inside the building unless the police submit to his demands. The captives consist of both teachers and children, some under the age of five.'

She felt an all too familiar burst of anger surging through her veins. An anger at the true state of a nation that claimed itself to be civilised. A nation which let murderers and rapists run free. A nation run by corrupt officials who accepted bribes without the slightest thought for the innocent lives their actions could endanger.

'The suspect has already been identified as Otoharada Kuruo, an unemployed man with a history of minor offences...'

Yukino lowered her pen to the page. If the notebook really wasn't a prank, then she already had everything she required to make use of it. All the conditions specified in the notebook had been met. She had a name and face, both conveyed on the screen, as if goading her to proceed. All that remained was to write, and in forty seconds, he would die of a heartbreak. Supposedly.

Just as the nib made contact with the paper, she stopped still.

If this man, Otoharada Kuruo, really dies... albeit indirectly... I would be a murderer.

Her doubts were shoved aside before they could assert themselves further. You're thinking about this too hard, she insisted. This was nothing but a test, and a meaningless one at that. There wasn't a chance on this Earth that the Death Note was genuine. That much was clear.

And then suddenly, there it was. A name in practised kanji on the page. Otoharada Kuruo.

All that remained now was to wait.

Yukinoshita Yukino watched as ten seconds turned to twenty, and twenty seconds turned to thirty.

The news channel cut away from the day care centre and back to the studio, where a former police officer was being interviewed about the situation. The reporter asked if there was any chance of all the captives being rescued without casualties. His expression seemed doubtful.

Yukino looked at the clock on the wall. She hadn't noted the specific time that the name had been written, but she felt certain that forty seconds must have passed by now.

Nothing on the TV screen had changed. The police officer was still being berated.

Nothing.

She exhaled, though whether from relief or disappointment she couldn't quite discern. At the very least, now that the note had been proven to be a sham, she could dispose of it and continue with her evening. It bothered her knowing that she'd fallen for a trick of this kind. Someone from school would probably confront her about it, camera phone in hand, tomorro-

"Wait... I'm being informed... yes, there's been a change in situation. I'm deeply sorry, but we're cutting back to the scene!"

Yukinoshita Yukino froze.

The picture being displayed on the screen was shaky; the camera man was desperately trying to readjust his angle. Finally, it came back into focus, fixed on the door of the day care centre. A group of people were exiting out the front. A group of eight.

"The hostages are escaping from the building! The police are moving in, but... but from the looks of things, they're just as shocked as we are!"

"C- can you provide us with any information on the suspect?"

"I'm not sure. We're trying to get a comment from the po... Is that true? Yes, okay, we've received confirmation! The suspect has been found dead inside the building! I repeat: the suspect is dead!"

Her eyes widened to the size of moons. W- what...

"What happened?! Was the suspect taken out by the police? Did the hostages take action?"

"No. As far as we can tell, it appears that the suspect just collapsed within the building. All of the hostages are unharmed, thank God, but apparently the suspect was shouting one moment, only to suddenly clutch his chest and drop to the ground. It's almost miraculous!"

A heart-attack in forty seconds. Just as the Death Note described.

Yukino backed away from the TV, her eyes fixed on the name she had written. A part of her couldn't accept what she had witnessed. The proof had been laid down, as clear and certain as the reflection in a mirror, but somehow, it remained just out of reach. Just beyond the realm of her comprehension. She had always been a person of logic. A notebook that killed? Surely this was just some strange coincidence. An inexplainable trick of nature.

But to put this down to a coincidence, ironically, was even more absurd than to accept the book's existence.

Her hands had begun to tremble. A bead of sweat was trickling down her forehead.

Did I hear correctly?

Did it really happen?

Was it simply done by writing down his name?

She couldn't look at the TV or the notebook for even a second longer. From nowhere, a disgusting taste had built up at the back of her throat- the sensation of feeling like you're about to vomit, and wanting to vomit, only to find it trapped and unable to escape. She dashed around the sofa and over to the glass windows. Her apartment was one of the highest up in the entire complex, with a view that looked out onto the Chiba cityscape and, beyond that, the burning horizon.

The teenager tugged at the handle desperately, pushing the window aside, before stepping out onto the balcony. The evening wind lashed across her face, and she gasped, breathing in the air, the scent of it.

Killing indirectly,

Pen and ink and paper,

Writing it is the gun and I only have to aim,

If one were to look at Yukinoshita Yukino without knowing her, it would be easy to assume the worst of her. She could think of so many who had done just that. Classmates. Teachers. Guests she'd rather she hadn't met at parties. Every single one of them had pictured a rich girl, soaked in wealth and spoilt from the moment she was born, incapable of seeing anything over the colossal size of her ego. They would think, no doubt, that someone so entitled had little right to feel inadequate or powerless.

And yet, for so much of her life, Yukino had scarcely felt anything else. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been underestimated, or accused of arrogance, or picked on. Her parents favoured her ever-so perfect sister. Her classmates favoured anyone but her. This was a girl who, somewhere along the way, had gradually started to give up. Yukino's aspirations, though imperishable, were just that; aspirations. The cynic in her, or the pessimist or whatever you wanted to call it, had been quick to send her a niggling reminder. To give her the reality check that nailed her feet firmly to the ground. She had separated her ambitions from what she had perceived as truth. The line between them had always been stark.

Now, finally... edges were blurring. Lines were intertwining. Limits were crashing and burning, shattering to the floor like shards of glass.

She closed her eyes. To be locked away for so long, and then to be given the key without warning... was overwhelming. Overwhelming, but not quite frightening. If anything, it was the opposite.

And there that key stood. A small little notebook, on the table in her apartment.

Could this be the hour?

Unimagined power,

Waiting to devour who I say...

All of a sudden, she had a vision. The same vision that had always glimmered, somewhere in the strangest corner of her dreams. These buildings that surrounded her, the buildings of Chiba, and the buildings beyond them throughout the rest of the world, were made of solid stone and brick. But, just there, she could see it. Her eyes had been opened. There were splinters in all of them. She could reach within and pull, and the splinter would become a crack, and the crack would become nothing. She would pull every single one of these buildings down, and she would start anew. A blank canvas, at last.

The hardest rain,

The coldest winds,

Are waiting for the hurricane,

She could feel that vision reaching deep inside her. Deep into the pits of her soul, and then deeper still, selling it away to some otherworldly power, corrupting it and corrupting her, corrupting her fast. She was Eve stealing a bite from the apple; she was Faustus trying in vain to outwit Mephistopheles; she was Tantalus reaching eternally for the water that receded from their touch. But it hardly registered. It didn't register at all. That corruption had a voice. It was whispering to her. And it was whispering one thing and one thing alone:

'The world is yours…'

… And Yukinoshita Yukino believed it. The world was her's. She was no longer a stupid little adolescent on a balcony. Yukinoshita Yukino was only a name, so small and insignificant compared to her true power. No. She was a God. She was the ruler of a brave new world, and once the imperfect one she inhabited had been destroyed... she would be worshipped.

The earth will shake,

The sky will scream,

Once they feel the power of the hurricane,

Where to start? Simple.

Yukino looked back through the window at her newfound weapon, blue eyes glinting. She would start with the people. All the impurities, all those unworthy of occupying her blessing, of the pristine Eden that was soon to take shape, would be cleansed. All the injustice and the evil would be erased, one name at a time, until only good remained. They didn't deserve to live. They didn't deserve it. They didn't deserve her.

I'll bring the rain,

I'll bring the wind,

I am the mighty hurricane.

Up ahead, the clouds were shifting, turning the sky from a blazing orange to a darkening grey.

A storm was brewing.

The Human Stains

Act Two: The Game Begins

'Good morning class,' Hiratsuka-sensei said.

As soon as she spoke, Hikigaya Hachiman found himself sitting up in his seat. Usually, he spent the time allocated to them in homeroom resting his head in his hands, pretending to be asleep. However, one of his eyes, which were renowned for being similar to those of a dead fish, would remain open. Though it was true that he was no stranger to sleeping in class, there was another hobby by which he liked to waste his time at this point in the day: namely, human observation.

Hachiman was considered a loner by the entirety of the Sobu High populace, and indeed by himself. His refusal to engage in social circles was such that the majority of them wouldn't have been able to recall his name. Bizarrely, his anonymity was also one of his most notable traits. It was exactly this solitary nature that made it easier for him to watch his classmates; put simply, they didn't care about him, which made them easy to observe. Their riajuu lifestyle was of no interest to him in particular, but he found it oddly entertaining to see their interactions, and to immerse himself in who was in favour and who had fallen out of it. There were a few in his class that had always been popular, and would probably stay that way for the rest of their life. Hayama Hayato and Miura Yumiko, for example. But the others? All of them were equally desperate to cling to their ever thinning ties of social acceptance, and thus, were quick to pull each other down.

Essentially, it was a convoluted form of schadenfreude. Hachiman wasn't ashamed of the indulgence in the slightest.

Here, he was using the most personally lauded of his "104" talents for a different purpose. It was rare for Hiratsuka-sensei to address the class in this manner; usually, she would enter, take the register with a lazy disinterest, and then concentrate on her latest pile of marking. The expression on her face had changed from bored to alert. Grave, even. Hachiman decided that she had something important to tell them.

The rest of the class realised too, if a little slower, and the light hum of conversation faded.

'The prinicipal has requested that we hold a discussion in homeroom today. He thinks it would be better to speak of this openly instead of ignoring it, and personally, I agree with him. It's a matter of national significance, after all.'

Hachiman knew instantly what she was referring to. He slowly removed the headphone in his right ear.

'I am, of course, talking about the Kira case.'

The whole class went deathly silent. Their reaction was telling. For the past week, the topic had been hanging over everyone's head, balancing precariously like a performer on a trapeze. Hachiman had noticed the main clique's insistence on retaining normality in conversation, just as, all the while, the world raged in breathless panic around them.

On the Saturday of that week, there had been a sudden burst of deaths. Hachiman couldn't think of a more appropriate or eloquent way to describe it. Without any warning, criminals both in prison and out of it were dropping to the floor, dead before anyone could even react. Every single one of them had died of exactly the same cause: namely, a heart-attack. The similarity suggested that the fatalities were connected, yet the phenomenon was too widespread, occurring in almost every country in the world, for it to be committed by a single organisation. What's more, no one had claimed responsibility for the events. The killer, or killers, were operating completely in the shadows.

Early theories of it being the work of a mysterious new pathogen were dispelled by the regularity of the deaths. They took place in bursts, every day without fail, and all of them at exactly the same time (as reported by the press)- between 4 and 6 o'clock in the evening, Japanese time. It soon became apparent, though of course no one would dare suggest it themselves, that these were not isolated deaths. They were murders. And, most likely, all the work of a single individual, targeting criminals and criminals alone. The method by which the crimes were exacted was unknown. To all intents and purposes, it should've been impossible.

It only took a couple of days for the public to give this person a name. "Kira"- derived from the English word of to kill, or killer. By Tuesday, both tribute and protest websites dedicated to him were appearing all over the internet, in every language from Japanese to Spanish to Russian. Everyone had their own stance on him (or her). Some believed that Kira was a divine entity- the latest prophet in a long line to grace their world, determined to rid the planet of the evil that blighted it. Others thought him the very epitome of the evil that he was, apparently, trying to dispel.

Only one thing was for certain. Kira's kill count was rising into the hundreds, and showing absolutely no sign of letting up. Already, he was one of the most notorious and prolific serial killers in history.

'Now, I understand if you'd be hesitant to speak, but sometimes, I think the best way of coping with something of this magnitude is to do exactly that. So, go ahead: say whatever is on your mind. They'll be no judgement here. You can even say that you support Kira, if you wish.'

Hachiman's classmates glanced at each other, unsure of how to react. He, personally, was more intrigued by the words of his teacher. Though her tone was neutral, her arms were crossed over her usual white lab-coat, and her eyes had steeled a little as she gave permission for the class to express any positive sentiments towards the killer.

The tiniest smirk appeared on his lips. It was obvious what her stance on the matter was.

'Y- you shouldn't say his name!' someone blurted.

Eyes turned to the front of the classroom, on Hiratsuka-sensei's right. The one who had spoken was a member of the otaku group, who spent most of their time on portable game consoles instead of studying. He appeared embarrassed that he'd done so, but quickly pushed his glasses further up his nose.

'We have no idea how Kira's able to kill his victims. I- if you say you disapprove of him, he... he might...'

'That's rubbish!'

'There's no way Kira that can be everywhere at once...?'

'He could be!' the boy insisted. 'If not, how else do you expla-'

Miura Yumiko scoffed, tapping her foot on the ground impatiently. 'Oh, shut up. That's so stupid it's actually annoyin-'

'Be quiet!' Hiratsuka interjected.

The class fell silent again. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

'If you can't be civil about your opinions, then don't speak. This is a sensitive subject, and we need to sensitive to each other in return... This time, raise your hand if you want to talk. Understood?'

No one responded.

'Nobody?'

At last, someone raised their hand. It was a girl with brunette hair, who hung out on the fringes of Miura's clique.

'Yes, Yuroshida?'

'I... I think that what Kira's doing is just plain wrong. No matter how you look at it, he's definitely a murderer. A serial killer, basically, and two wrongs don't make a right, y'know?'

There were a couple of nods from those who agreed with her, but nothing substantial. Hachiman could sense the tension resting between them, so uncomfortable as to be almost palpable.

Another hand rose.

'Sagami?'

She stood up. 'I agree with Yushida-san on the whole two wrongs don't make a right thing, but to be honest, I think that Kira's aims are really admirable. I mean, the murder is bad, of course, but they're still criminals-'

'That doesn't excuse it,' the boy from earlier interrupted, his voice sharp.

'I know, but...' Sagami suddenly seemed to lose her nerve. 'I just...'

She finished on a nervous mumble, before taking her seat again.

The "discussion" continued in this manner for awhile. Painfully stilted, awkward, with every participant unwilling to make a meaningful contribution. Hachiman watched with gradually spiking intrigue. It was rare to see humans exposed to a situation of this kind. Any conversation relating to Kira was bound to be taboo. People were naturally inclined to have an opinion, but they were equally inclined to seek social acceptance. Much to his fascination, the two were at odds with each other in this circumstance. Fitting in often required passivity. A willingness to compromise, and to go with any specific group's mentality. But Kira? Kira was divisive and morally blurred. If his classmates wished to articulate their true feelings, then they risked upsetting their peers. It was the segregation of a person's mind from a person's instinct.

If ever there was proof of the fragility of friendships, then this was it.

Unfortunately for Hachiman, it seemed that someone else in the room had also picked up on this. They raised their hand.

'Yes, Hayama?' came Hiratsuka sensei's response, granting him permission to speak.

'Personally, I can see the merit in both sides of the argument,' he announced, clearly and evenly. 'I think that what Kira is doing, ridding Earth of its criminals, is not undesirable in itself. But, of course, his actions aren't exactly pleasant, either. In other words, he's doing the wrong thing for the right reasons... but isn't it important that we all stay together in times like this, precisely because of our differences? I don't see how disagreeing is going to solve anything.'

Quickly, his words were met by a wave of eager agreement.

'That totally makes sense-'

'-you should be ashamed of yourselves, fighting like th-'

'-Hayato's right. Disagreeing won't get us anywh-'

'You're the best, Hayato!'

Hachiman averted his gaze, trying to prevent the disgust he felt from seeping onto his face. It was his policy, his mantra, not to draw unnecessary attention to himself, but he found himself wishing that he had an ounce of Hayama's charisma, if only so he could disrupt Class 2F's status quo once more. Those words of neutrality had given all of his classmates a detestably easy means of escape. Now, they could avoid the problem, and pretend that Kira hadn't embarked on a murderous crusade against injustice. They could convince themselves that their meaningless high school lives were progressing as normal, and this whole conversation was merely an added pinch of spice to their youth.

These people sickened him.

But, in his internal tirade, he neglected to notice that one of his classmates' attentions were not focused on Hayato. Instead, they were focused on him, and the expression which he had failed to suppress.

As was typical of high school students, Hikigaya Hachiman had his own individual rituals that helped him to pass by the monotony of a school day. One of these rituals occurred, without fail, when the lunch bell rang. While the others in his class enjoyed their packed bentos in their homeroom, or made their way to the canteen with the company of their choosing, Hachiman headed off to a little spot near the school tennis courts. He didn't do anything of note while sat on these old stone steps, in the shadow of a bicycle shed. Listen to the sound of the sea breeze as it arrived. Watch the tennis players challenging each other on the courts. You could guarantee there would be a can of MAXX Coffee in his hand. The excuse he used to justify his addiction to the drink was that its huge amount of sugar helped increase his thinking capacity.

That Friday, which marked a week since Kira's first victim, had been starkly irregular. For one, somebody had willingly approached him, and furthermore, this somebody was recounting to him a story so surreal he hadn't the faintest idea what to make of it.

The girl, by now, had finished speaking. She had dyed pink hair that, from a distance, would probably seem fluorescent. Her cheeks were puffed, bright red, and her breaths came out fragmented as she nervously awaited his reply. Though he had often seen this girl fetching and carrying for Miura Yumiko, he had only learnt that her name was Yuigahama Yui in the past few minutes. If his mind wasn't busy trying to make heads and tails of her rushed, hurried words, he would definitely be wondering why in God's name she was addressing him as Hikki.

His can of MAXX Coffee lay to the side, forgotten.

'So,' he said slowly, trying to gauge the appropriate way to react. 'You're seriously telling me that... that on Friday, you found a notebook by the school gate that, somehow, was supposed to kill anyone whose names was written in it?'

Yui pursed her lips, her gaze fixed on the ground. 'Hikki... I know it sounds ridiculous-'

'And then, for whatever reason, it was gone when you conveniently decided to come back and check up on it? And a day later, the news of the first Kira murders broke?'

Hikigaya Hachiman had experienced his fair share of ridicule in the past. The worst of it had come during his time at middle school. For a number of reasons, the "Hikki" of a few years ago had found himself identified as the chewing toy of his class. As the scapegoat, and the butt of every pathetic excuse for a joke that the people around him came up with. Suggest any insulting variant on his family name and he had probably heard it before. But this? This was quite possibly the worst attempt to fool him yet. Just how gullible did Yuigahama Yui think that he was?

'Yuigahama-san,' he said, hoping his annoyance wasn't conveyed too blatantly, 'did Miura ask you to say this? If so, you can tell her that she's going to have to try and awful lot harde-'

'It's not a joke!'

Her tone of voice caught him off guard. If months of observing, quiet and unnoticeable, had taught him anything, it was that humans were proficient liars. They lied about everything; their homes lives, their friendships, their opinions and especially their feelings. Sometimes, they lied without consciously knowing that they were lying. Hachiman deemed himself better than most at telling when someone was doing the same to him. Strange, for despite his absolute certainty that this couldn't be true, Yuigahama's performance was incredibly persuasive. Her voice was full of earnestness and her face full of a desperate conviction. It truly seemed as if she was being genuine.

Either that, or she had a very promising career in the acting profession to come.

'Even if you were telling the truth,' he tried, 'why would you come to me about this? If you really believed that this... that this "Death Note" was real, why wouldn't you go to the police?'

'I tried to tell my parents,' she replied miserably, clutching the sides of her arms. 'They didn't believe me. If

they wouldn't, then I figured the police wouldn't even try-

'

'And I would?'

She blinked. 'But... but you have so far, Hikki.'

He couldn't deny that.

'You still haven't answered my question.'

'About why I told you?'

'Yes.'

Yuigahama seemed to mull it over for a moment, and then mumbled something incoherent under her breath.

'What was that?'

'I... I saw you in homeroom. When we were having the discussion, I mean. After Hayato spoke, you seemed really angry. Anyone could tell that you disagreed with him. I- I still don't think I understood why, but... but I felt like I could trust you.'

Hachiman didn't believe this for a second. It was true that he hadn't approved of Hayato's little speech, and he found himself surprised that she'd be looking in his direction instead of the handsome soccer team captain's, but it was nowhere near convincing. If anything, him disagreeing with the Prince of Soubu High would be more of a reason for Yuigahama Yui to distrust him. He knew the kind of girl she was. An airhead, obsessed with image and makeup, all as vain and idiotic as the next.

But that didn't necessarily mean that she wasn't well meaning. He had never interacted with Yui or Miura's clique, so they had no obvious motivation for holding a grudge against him. Unless they were simply doing this to be malicious, which didn't match his impression of them in the slightest, he couldn't see why Yuigahama would want to make a fool of him. There didn't seem to be anyone lying in wait to burst out and crack the joke. It was only him and Yuigahama; they were totally alone, except for the dots of the tennis players on the court, a couple of hundred metres away. And, so far during his time at Soubu High, Hachiman had been very successful in keeping himself off the radar.

What if- no. That was crazy. He shouldn't even be considering it.

'If I did believe you, which by the way, I don't... what would you want me to do about it?' He scoffed sarcastically. 'Help you catch Kira?'

She fiddled with the hem of her skirt.

He stared at her. 'Please don't tell me you're seriou-'

'Well when you phrase it like that, of course it sounds ridiculous!' she shouted.

Hachiman was lost for words. Catch Kira?! What does she think this is?! The story was getting more and more outlandish by the second. But, before he could voice his doubts, and possibly ask her never talk to him again, she was leaning in closer.

And, to his astonishment, her eyes were welling up with tears.

'You have to believe me...' she sniffed, barely audible. 'This... I can't get this out of my head. I haven't slept for a week thinking about it. I know the chances of that stupid notebook actually being real are... are so small that yeah, i- it would seem stupid and outlandish to you. I can barely believe it myself, but... but what if it was? What if Kira really was the person who picked it up, and is really using it? I've thought and thought and thought about it, but... no one has been able to come up with a way for Kira to kill those people that made sense, but if the Death Note was real, then it would make sense.'

She shook her head. 'And if it was... then... then I'd be responsible. All those people would be dead, because some stupid girl decided not to take things seriously.'

All Hachiman did was look at her. Anything he might have said seemed trivial and ill-suited after that. The girl in front of him was utterly desolate, and comforting someone in that state was by no means his forte. Other people were complicated and difficult to understand; it was far easier to watch and judge them than to interact and sympathise with them.

But he knew that those were not crocodile tears. Yuigahama Yui had just poured out her heart to him. Her concerns, the emotions etched onto her face, were not a joke. He may not have been ready to accept the story, but he could accept that a living breathing person had chosen him to comfort her. Her reasons for confiding him weren't important at this stage.

He put an awkward hand on her shoulder, urging her to sit down beside him. She accepted the contact gratefully.

Once Yuigahama's tears had subsided a little, he begun to speak, slowly and carefully.

'I... I have no idea why you'd chose to come to me with this. I still need time to think about what you've told me, but I can promise you this, Yuigaham-san: I'll try to help you in any way I can. And...' He scratched his head uncomfortably. 'I'll protect you. If- uh, the situation arose.'

She sniffed, but nodded. 'Thank you, Hikki.'

They sat in silence for a bit.

'I wish I could give you a tissue or somethin-'

'It's fine.'

More silence.

'Um... Hikki?'

'Yes?'

She looked at him with round eyes. The remnants of moisture still clung to her eyelashes. 'Would you take my phone number and c- call me? When you've thought about it, I mean.'

'Sure.' The him of a few minutes ago might have panicked at the thought of having a girl in his contact list, but the word's suggestive nature didn't even register to him.

Once they had shared numbers, Yuigahama Yui stood up. 'I think that I'll head back to the classroom now, Hikki. It's near the end of lunch.'

He also got to his feet. 'Are you sure you're alright? Do you need me to-'

'Actually, it... it might be good to sit with my friends for a bit, just to pretend thing's are normal for a bit.'

'Ignoring a problem won't make it go away.'

She smiled half-heartedly at this. 'That's why you were angry at Hayato, wasn't it?'

He wasn't sure what to say to this, so merely watched as the girl walked back in the direction of the school, and then disappeared into its interior.

When Hikigaya Hachiman arrived back at his house, he paced around his room for approximately two and a half hours. His heart was beating restlessly, and his mind was spinning, shifting past possibilities and questions and answers to those questions just a moment after asking them. For the final two hours of the school day, he had found himself attempting to do what Yui had been doing such a magnificent job at: forget about what he'd been told. Every time there was a pause in the lesson, or they were asked to solve a Maths equation individually, he would steal a glance in the girl's direction. There she was, sitting beside a talkative girl with glasses without a care in a world, as if she hadn't just suggested that she had vital information pertaining to the killing method of the most dangerous person on the planet.

It quickly became apparent to him that the endeavour of feigning ignorance was impossible for him, and what's more, that it wasn't a tide he wished to fight against. Doing so contradicted all of his philosophies, and every conclusion he had drawn about human nature.

Then again, it seemed that a lot of things were being contradicted that day. The very notion of logic and reason, for example. The concept of a notebook with such terrifying capabilities, quite simply, frightened him. What was its original purpose, if it even truly existed? What kind of person could have created it? And most importantly... was he really supposed to accept that the ground beneath him, ground that he had always deemed stable and unmoving, was only a step away from collapsing in on itself? If the notebook was real, then it seemed to him that anything even vaguely conceivable to the human mind could've been real. Who was to say that there wasn't a God, or ghosts, or aliens on Mars, if there was a Death Note?

But, Hachiman mused at some point in those two hours, there was a serial killer on the loose. A serial killer who, evidently, had the power to kill without being present at the scene of their crime. The existence of a Death Note... would provide an explanation for that. Kira need only write a name from the comfort of their own home, and a life would end.

At around 6:30 pm, Hachiman stopped pacing. Instead, he looked at the iPhone that was resting on his bed. Seven minutes afterwards, he picked it up, searched through his list of contacts, and called the number that he had been given only that afternoon.

He didn't have to wait for long.

'H- Hikki! I'm sorry, I really wasn't expecting you to call-'

'Yuigahama-san-'

'Before you say anything, can I just say something? I was thinking about what I told you, and I realised that it wasn't right for me t- to drop that on you all at onc-'

'Yuiga-'

'I know it's crazy, but I swear to you, it really did happen. S- so even if you're just calling to say you never want to see my face agai-'

'I believe you.'

There was a long pause. Hachiman swallowed nervously.

'I've been thinking about it, and I realised... there's no way that you could've been lying, not with how you... um... Well, I just want to know that you're right about Kira: I've yet to hear a better explanation for how it could be possible.'

'... You... you believe me?'

Her voice was airy, and laced with an emotion so intense it took Hachiman's breath away.

'Yes, Yuigahama-san.'

'You believe me... I knew it. I- I knew that I wasn't crazy-'

'Wait a second, I... I believe that you found a notebook, and that everything happened just as you said. You're forgetting that there could be a chance you were wrong, and this is all just a misunderstanding. I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be able to accept that the Death Note works until I see proof, right in front of my eyes.'

'But how else do you explai-'

'I don't know, Yuigahama. But you have to understand that this is difficult for me-'

'No, I- I totally understand, Hikki.'

...

'Thank you, Hikki. If you hadn't believed me, then I don't know what I would've done.'

He swallowed breathlessly.

'I also thought about what you said about Kira. About how he could've found the Death Note.'

'...'

When an answer didn't come, he pressed on.

'You told me that you originally found it in the school grounds, right? And then you threw into the bushes by the gates, just after the ending of the school day?'

'… Yes.'

'When, exactly, did you go back and check to see if the Death Note was still there?'

'About two hours later.'

'So it was after 5 pm?'

'Yes. I think it was about fifteen past...'

He inhaled deeply. A part of him wanted to ask why exactly Yuigahama had been so compelled to return, but there were more pressing matters on his mind.

'5 pm is when all of the afterschool clubs end. Picture this, Yuigahama-san: someone at the school is about to walk home, or maybe they're just waiting for a lift, when all of a sudden, they see the notebook. They pick it up, just like you did. But, unlike you, they don't just ignore it. They're curious, and so they take it home, and then, just in case it really is true, they decide to test it out. And then, much to their shock, the Death Note actually works.'

'...'

'This is all just conjecture, obviously. It could be completely irrelevant, but if the Death Note was gone so soon after you discarded it, then there's only a select number of people who could possibly have picked it up. Most importantly, they'd have to be in the immediate vicinity of Sobu High. Probably living here, in fact. Therefore, it's safe to conclude that Kira must be operating relatively close by.'

'... Do you really think that Kira might be another student?'

'I don't want to believe it, but if it really was just after 5 pm when you discovered it was gone... I'd say that there's a very good chance of that, yes. I'd go as far to say I'd be about forty, fifty percent certain that they're attending Sobu High. Have you watched any of the news reports regarding Kira's deaths?'

'Y- yes.'

'Then you'll probably have seen the specific times that Kira operates. The press say that the kills take place in bursts, usually between 4 and 6 o'clock in local Japanese time. That supports the conclusion that Kira is a student; as soon as they get back from school, they write names in the Death Note, and then they have the rest of the evening to do whatever they want.'

'That's... that's totally sick.'

'You're right. It is sick. They're treating murder like it's some kind've homework project. And what's more, it's moronic. Adopting routines and habits will only help us to predict his movements-'

'Predict his movements? Hikki...'

Hachiman cursed himself silently. He hadn't wanted to say that.

'You're talking like you want to catch him-'

'Look, Yuigahama-san. You were the one who suggested it. And to be brutally frank, I can't get the thought out of my head either. If this Death Note is really true, and only we know about it… then do you know what that means? It means that we're the only people in the whole world who could possibly have a chance at bringing him to justice. We have the upper hand, Yuigahama. The only thing that Kira has on his side is the Death Note. He has no idea that we know about him, or the notebook, or that he's living and killing in Chiba. Like you said, we can't go to the police or tell any adults about this; we're only high school students. They'd think we were making it up for attention, or some bullshit like that.'

He took a breath, trying to calm his nerves.

'Kira is evil, Yuigahama-san. The way I see it, he's a sick-minded, delusional fool. Furthermore, he's arrogant. He's probably convinced himself that he's some kind of untouchable God, hence why he's already making such idiotic mistakes. The Death Note is a weapon that he barely understands, just like us, and he's using it impulsively. Of course, that makes him dangerous, but we can beat him, Yuigahama. We can outwit him. We'll have to be incredibly careful, but we can do it. The only way that we can prove he's guilty is by getting our hands on the Death Note, or by forcing him into a confession, but... no matter what, we can't let anyone else die.'

'... I agree with you, Hikki.'

Shock pulsed through his veins.

'I... I hadn't expected you to-'

'Why not? Like you said, I was the one came to you. Actually, I... I think that it's our responsibility to try and find him, Hikki. If we let him go, then... then surely we're just as bad as he is.'

'Even if we die trying?'

'... Do you really think it could come to that?'

He sighed.

'I don't know, Yuigahama. It all depends on Kira. We can't let him find out what our names are. If he does, we'll be dead in a minute. Of that, you have my guarantee.'

'...'

'Yuigahama?'

'I don't want to die, Hikki.'

He clenched his fist.

'Believe me, Yuigahama, I'm just as scared as you are. More than that, I'm terrified, God-damnit. But... do we really have a choice in this situation? A and remember, I promised that I'd protect you. As long as we're together on this, I won't let Kira near you.'

'He wouldn't have to be near us-'

'Then when we find him, I'll take every single pen in his house and burn them, right in front of his eyes.'

'... Hikki?'

'Yes?'

'I'm... I'm glad that I told you.'

Both of them went quiet. Hachiman was just about to say something more, when he heard a knock on his door.

'Onii-chan?! Are you talking to yourself again?'

He quickly lowered the handset. 'No, Komachi. I'm just on the phone.'

'... You're on the phone?'

'Yes?'

'Who too?! Is it a girl? Are you really being sociable?! Tell me everything now, Onii-chan!'

He tapped the side of his bed impatiently. Usually, he would be more than willing to humour his little sister's admittedly adorable antics, but the burden of the phone call weighed down his shoulders, expectant and demanding.

'I'm sorry Komachi, but I really don't have time to chat right now. Can you come back later?'

'... Just so you know, that was unbelievably low in Komachi points. But fine. I understand when my Onii-chan needs his space.'

'Could've fooled me-'

'Anyway, I actually came up to say that dinner's nearly ready! Come down or I might end up eating your plate by myself!'

He heard the sound of her footsteps, skipping back over to the staircase. Unexpectedly, Hachiman felt a rush of protectiveness for his little imouto, fierce and unrelenting. Anyone would struggle to maintain their perspective in the face of a threat as dangerous as Kira, but Hachiman hadn't expended much thought on what the world would be like if the serial killer continued their rampage. Somehow, he doubted that his life would be anywhere near as peaceful as this. Somehow, he knew he wouldn't have the time to appreciate the simplistic things that he took for granted, like Komachi's overbearing nature and her cooking after a long school day.

If he and Yui continued on this course, he'd be putting so much more than just his life on the line. But if they didn't? If the Death Note was how they were killing those people, and they let Kira continue... Hachiman wasn't sure he would be able to live with himself.

He raised the phone to his ear.

'You still there?'

'Yes, Hikki.'

'Tell me at any time if this is too risky... but I think I have a plan.'

'You still haven't said why you decided to accompany me today, Nee-san.'

The trip from Yukinoshita Yukino's apartment to Sobu High was a short one, even while walking. If she were to move briskly, it would take half an hour at the most. The journey was shortened to ten when taking her family's personal limousine. She usually spent this time in relative silence; the driver was far too brusque and official to engage her in conversation that extended beyond pleasantries. If a book she was reading had captured her imagination, she might use it to get through a couple of more pages.

Throughout the last week, however, Yukino had simply stared out of the window, contemplating the worldwide changes she had set in motion.

She found that she much preferred the company of silence than she did that of her sister, Yukinoshita Haruno, at the best of times. This time, however, her patience was wearing thinner than usual.

'Oh, come now. Is it really so unbelievable that a Nee-san would want to catch up with her cute little imouto?'

Yukino observed her sister's obnoxious plastered smile with scorn. It was obvious to anyone why her parents had chosen Haruno to be their little show girl, their idealistic protege, and not her, even when her age was not taken into account. Both of them were beautiful, but the beauty of her sister was rather more womanly and pronounced. Her hair was trimmed to her shoulders instead of falling down to the waist, as Yukino's did. Her bust was larger and her hips were wider, giving her a more sensual impression that, as far as she understood, drove men crazy. This was not to say that Yukino was androgynous, or that she paled in comparison to her sister, by any means. Yukino appeared as if she had been plucked from the bedroom of a particularly well-crafted doll's house, but her breasts hadn't developed to the size of her sister's (and were showing no indication that they ever would), and her waist might have been a little too thin for a fussier man's tastes. Yukino always had been the introvert of the pair. While Haruno was entertaining party guests with her sharp, witty conversation, her sister would be found in the corner, reading a book.

And her mother took such trivial things very seriously.

There was a time when Yukino, undeniably, would have to admit she had been jealous of her sister. Now, she wondered how she could possibly have been so foolish. To compare a human to a God was like comparing a fast food meal to a dish of cuisine.

'Yes. You see, I've had enough time over the years to realise that my Nee-san always does things for a reason.'

Her sister laughed outwardly, but Yukino was attuned to the more subtle of her reactions. Haruno's eyes had ever so slightly narrowed.

'As cold as ever I see, Yukino! Perhaps even a little colder than usual.'

In a flash, Yukino knew why she was here. With a smirk, she turned away.

'Ah. I see now.'

'And what exactly do you see, Yukino?'

'Nothing.'

Though she was faced the other way, she could tell that Haruno's lips would be pursed.

'Please try to be civil. Such poor manners aren't befitting of a woman.'

'Poor manners?' she said, pretending to be confused. 'If I insulted you then I sincerely apologise, but I really fail to see how I was-'

'You knew exactly what you were doing, little imouto. Don't insult my intelligence.'

'Then kindly refrain from insulting my own, and tell me why you're here.'

Yukino felt unbelievably satisfied at the silence that entailed her words. Haruno loved to hear the sound of her voice, and tended to dominate the interactions between them. But, those times were in the past. The snivelling excuse of a girl called Yukinoshita Yukino was gone. In her place was Kira, the saviour of millions.

Kira. They'd chosen her name well. Yukino recalled the first time she had read the websites dedicated to her. Her actions were gaining traction and followers faster than she could ever have anticipated. People were beginning to realise the beauty of her vision-

'What are you thinking about, Yukino?'

She glanced back over her shoulder. 'Oh, the usual: schoolwork, the Service Club and such.'

The lie rolled off her tongue easily, but Haruno didn't appear convinced.

'The smirk on your face suggests otherwise. I've yet to meet a single person capable of deriving happiness from schoolwork.'

Yukino snorted. 'Then perhaps you should expand your circle of contacts, Nee-san. I happen to relish my time at Sobu High.' Unwilling to continue this line of conversation, she shifted the focus. 'Anyway, must we always squabble like this? Please, tell me more of your own life, if you find my studies so tedious.'

'Oh no, you're very much mistaken. I have the greatest of interest in your-'

'Miss Yukino?' called the driver, pulling into a lay-by on the left. 'We've arrived.'

The younger Yukinoshita graced her sister with an infuriating smile of her own. 'I do apologise, Haruno. We'll have to continue this at a later date.'

'Wait a moment, little imou-'

Yukino was already stepping out and closing the car door behind her, leaving Haruno noticeably frustrated. The limousine drove off, and after tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the Sobu High attendee entered the throng of students making their way to the school gates.

Though her face was as stone cold ever, inside, she was seething. Haruno, you pathetic little slut, she thought, imagining the feeling of giving her sister a long overdue slap, right to the cheek. Too long had Yukinoshita Haruno been trampling on the plans and ambitions of her life, and it seemed even now, most likely on the command of her mother, that she was still attempting to do so. She wished that there was a way of informing her just how quickly she had outgrown their petty disagreements of the past without revealing herself to be Kira. Sibling rivalry was no longer a concern for Yukinoshita Yukino, for if it were truly her wish, she could swat Haruno like the incessant fly that she was. Finally being free of the reach of her sister's shadow was an exhilarating pleasure that she struggled to find the words to articulate.

Yukino's research on her family tree during the past week had been similarly enlightening. Her mother and father had always been cautious when revealing details of their work, but it stunned her how quickly a Google search had lifted this veil. She had been fully aware of her father's position on the National Diet, but his questionable connections to various local businesses had been concealed from her. The volume of newspaper articles published that suggested without explicitly stating her father's corruption had been dreadfully easy to locate.

It had angered her so much that, for a heartbeat, she had found her pen lowering towards a page of the Death Note.

She resisted the impulse eventually, of course. Her parents influence in Chiba could still be of significant use to her.

The sight that greeted Yukino when she reached the school gate was, typically, a predictable one. The hundreds of students who shared her misery in attending Sobu High would be milling around the front of the school, all separated into their hierarchies and pointless groupings. Their chatter was astonishingly tiresome, so Yukino preferred to head straight to her classroom and prepare for the day's lessons even before the school bell had rung out across the site. Her attendance record, like most things about her, was spotless; she had only be prevented from arriving on time by sickness or prior arrangements made by her family that, much to her chagrin, were unavoidable. Not much was different on the Monday that marked her second week after discovering the Death Note. Not much, except for a cluster of students all gathered around the double glass doors to the building.

Unperturbed, she continued on, picking her way through the throngs of people. She was expecting their reason for gathering like lemmings to be as ridiculous as always. But, as her approach brought her closer and their words became clearer, the beginnings of a frown appeared on her lips.

'What do you think it means?'

'Are we supposed to laugh or something? 'Cause it really isn't funny-'

'I can't believe somebody would actually write this...'

Yukino made her way up the small flight of steps, trying to see over the shoulders of those in front of her and catch a glimpse at what they were talking about. Whatever it is, she thought irritably, they're getting in my way-

Yukino's blood went cold.

There, stuck onto the glass doors, was a piece of A3 paper. It was empty, except for five words, right in the centre, typed in bold black text.

KIRA IS HERE!

YOURS TRULY, H

She stared at the words. Her legs had gone stiff, held in place by momentary panic. What... what is that supposed to mean? The poster seemed as if it was addressed. Addressed to her personally. But if that was the case, that would mean that the person responsible for this knew that she was Kira. And what's more, it wouldn't make sense to put up the poster outside the school unless this person, this "H", knew without a shadow of doubt that she went to Sobu High.

Then, the moment passed. The wheels in Yukino's mind finally begun to spin, taking over from her emotions and considering the situation rationally. She read the words once more. KIRA IS HERE! YOURS TRULY, H. She had been right to ask what they meant, because in actuality, they didn't mean anything at all. There was nothing to suggest that the person who'd typed it was aware that Yukino specifically was Kira, or that they knew for a fact Kira was going to the school. It was more likely to be a general, anonymous show of support for Kira than an accusation directed towards her. True, the phrasing was odd. Provocative even, and it seemed far too wild a coincidence for someone to choose Sobu High of all places to put the poster up, but certainly not beyond the realms of possibility.

Yukino stole a quick glance over her shoulder. It wouldn't make sense for someone outside of the school to pick out Sobu High willingly, instead of somewhere more public and easily accessible. Therefore, it was more likely to be the work of a fellow student. How was she supposed to take this? Should she accept the more probable explanation, that being the poster was unconnected to her work as Kira, or the one that bordered on inconceivable: that they were sending her a message?

Before she could mull it over any further, a familiar loud voice assaulted her eardrums. The school's guidance councillor, Hiratsuka-sensei, had entered through the gates only a little after Yukino, and noticed the disturbance.

'Come on then,' she declared, sounding annoyed. 'What is it this time?'

The students parted, allowing the teacher to make her way through. She stopped upon taking in the poster, and her scowl only deepened.

'Wow, that really is hilarious,' she said, ripping the poster off the doors. 'Does anyone have an idea who might have put this up?'

'No sensei,' they chorused, all looking a little sheepish.

'Go and get to class then. I've had enough of you lot already,' she added.

Yukino presumed that they weren't supposed to have heard the last part, but in the two years that they'd known each other, Hiratsuka had proven herself to be the worst whisperer she had ever encountered.

Yukino followed suit with the rest into the building. All the while, her thoughts continued to rage over the message (if it was deserving of that label). She desperately wanted to pass off this person, H, as yet another positive in her schemes. So far, her plans as Kira had gone so smoothly that, at times, Yukino had found herself wondering just when she would be forced to leap the first hurdle. To wish for opposition to her cause would have been foolish, but she'd been fully prepared for it. Yukino's pride wouldn't allow her to admit it, but her shock indicated that, so far, she had been lulled into a false sense of security, which annoyed her to end.

Yukino couldn't legislate for whether H would prove to be an ally or a nuisance. There was a chance that they would never rear their head again, but Yukino wouldn't bet on it. It was better to practice caution than to regret it at a later date.

It wasn't a worry for her regardless. All Kira required was a name to eradicate them.

That summoned the smile back to her lips.

The plan, which Hachiman had told Yuigahama on Friday evening, was a good one in theory. Difficult to execute, and riddled with possible tripping points, but there were no high rewards without high risk. A mistake would have been catastrophic, but the same could be said of any mistake when dealing with Kira, no matter how small.

Empty your mind of any theories,

Till all the facts are in,

Start at the end of all your queries,

To learn where things begin,

The two main objectives were simple, but pivotal; they needed to find out, or at least come up with a list of suspects as to who Kira might be, without giving away to that individual that they knew about their location or about the Death Note. Therefore, Hachiman concluded that, ideally, they would need a plan that didn't necessitate the showing of their faces. Yui had told him everything that she could remember about the rules on the front cover of the Death Note. Though recollection of all of them had been understandably beyond her, she informed him that Kira also needed to have the face of a criminal in mind. This meant it would have been suicidal to reveal themselves, or to use their real names, as Kira could quite quickly have identified them from their school records. Not that they would have a chance to do such a thing, as the only information they had about Kira was that they were living in Chiba, and possibly attending Sobu High. The population of their home city had recently exceeded one million.

So, he naturally decided to focus on the only lead that they had. Almost everyone in the school attended an after school club of some sort, so narrowing down by that method wouldn't have got them anywhere. However, if they could prove unconditionally that Kira was a student, or related to a member of the student body, then they wouldn't have to fret over braving the storm of that statistic. They needed something concrete, or at the very least, something suggestive that they could follow up on, and the only person who could give them that was Kira themselves. They needed to provoke them in some way. To send them a message. Hachiman was conscious that surprise could well be their greatest advantage over Kira, and that they needed to sustain that for as long as possible, so it couldn't be too obvious. It had to be enough to make them paranoid and easy to single out, but not enough to draw attention to themselves.

The calculus of a solution,

While changing stays the same,

The strength of mind and evolution,

Determines who wins the game,

It was Yuigahama who smoothed out the edges around his plan, and brought it close to fool proof. Upon mention of his dilemma, that being how it it was possible to address someone they didn't know, she pointed out that they didn't need to. Instead, they could address the entirety of Sobu High. She suggested putting their message on one of the noticeboards, but Hachiman took things a step further. A poster, on the front doors of the school: the only place that, without exception, every student was guaranteed to see.

They typed up the message on A3 paper- KIRA IS HERE!- and arrived early on Monday to put it up. Hachiman decided to sign it anonymously at the last minute. That gave Kira a greater impression of an adversary. Someone to project their fear onto (presuming things went as planned). H. His own initial. Sometimes, the best way to hide was in plain sight.

Then, all they had to do was wait for someone to take the bait. Hachiman and Yui positioned themselves at opposite sides of the courtyard, partly so that they could cover multiple angles on those entering through the gate and ensure their counterpart didn't miss anything, and partly so Kira wouldn't get the slightest hint they were associated with each other.

I poke and prod to find the weakness,

Where the bend becomes the break,

And make the most of Kira's first mistake,

For close to half an hour, nothing happened. Or nothing they could see, Hachiman supposed. Students came in and noticed the poster immediately (you'd have to be blind not to), but apart from spouting out vague speculations on its purpose, the pair of them didn't see anyone react in a way that Kira might.

When Yukinoshita Yukino arrived, a great deal of people looked her way, including Hachiman. This wasn't out of the ordinary. The "Ice Queen" of Sobu High was a common target for widely untrue rumours in the school. He knew from these rumours alone that Yukinoshita Yukino was top of the class in virtually every subject. She was something of a child prodigy, and had the work ethic to complement it. She was the youngest daughter of one of the richest and most powerful families in the whole region. Everything from her staggering good looks to her (as reported) endless stream of crushing verbal quips breathed of royalty. Her posture, the confident manner in which she strode forward, were just as regal. She walked as if she owned the schoo- no, not just that. She walked as if she owned the whole world.

Very few of the boys beside Hachiman seemed to be as concerned by Yukinoshita Yukino's imposing self-confidence, though. Every time her skirt swished in the breeze, he swore he heard another heart break.

He was about to look away for fear of being similarly drawn in, but then, Yukino reached the stone steps that led up to the message. Then, she saw it. Then, her eyes widened.

Then, he knew. He just knew.

The game begins the same way,

The chase is on, the die is cast,

I'll sift a thousand pixels,

Until I chase you down at last,

After the poster had been taken down and Yukino had headed off to her classroom, Yui walked over to him. She stopped, just close enough to whisper.

'Did you see it too, Hikki?'

'Yes,' he nodded. 'It's her.'

Yui looked stunned. 'How… how do you know?'

'I don't.' Her astonishment turned to confusion, so he elaborated, 'There's no definitive proof. Anyone would be a little unsettled by seeing a poster like that, but... that wasn't the same. She was frightened. Just for a moment, but it was there. You must've seen it.'

'... Yes, bu-'

'She's Kira, Yuigahama. I... there's still only a fraction of a chance that she is without proof, but it's higher than for anyone else we saw today. She's at Sobu High, just like we said. I'd bet you anything that she goes to an after school club as well. Probably the president of one. The Yukinoshitas are rich, and you can tell she's arrogant just from the way she holds herself. Everything fits.'

Yui took a moment to respond. 'It's still just a hunch, Hikki. We still need to be caref-'

'Of course. I never said we wouldn't be.' His dead fish eyes contracted. 'But currently, she's our only suspect. We have to follow up on her. You can't deny that.'

'... No. I can't.'

Yukinoshita Yukino, hm? he thought. The Ice Queen? Kira? Just what should I call, you exactly?

It didn't really matter what this girl wanted to be called. All that mattered was that she was a criminal. A serial killer, who deserved a taste of the "justice" she was presumptuous enough to mete out.

And him and Yuigahama, "H", would be the ones to bring her to it.

The game begins.