Death Note OL 1.1

Chapter One, Dying; Part I, Devotion
I
Although I barely believe in destiny, I have never doubted that fate showed us the Death Note.
To think that if just one other student had seen it first, both of our lives would have turned out very, very differently, but I guess that’s true of a lot of things. If you hadn’t been sitting near the window, you might not have seen it. If I wasn’t watching you, I might not have seen it either. And if any of these things had happened, the two of us would have never found true love.
English was the best class it could have happened in; we got to choose our seats, I didn’t have to pay attention, and I was seated one to the right of the person two chairs back from you, so that the arrangement made an neat capital L. I lived in America from birth to tenth grade, so I’ve gotten perfect grades in English for years. In another class, I might have been taking notes when it happened. I might have been concentrating on some work or praying that I wouldn’t be called on in class. In another class, I might have looked away at the wrong moment—I might have missed your almost random glance.
I might have never even seen the Death Note.
Once class was dismissed, I followed you outside as casually as I could. Your back was erect, but your face looked like that of a person who was staring at the ground. I leaned against a tree and pretended to read from a science textbook, but my eyes never left you.
“Desu Noto,” I heard you say. You picked the notebook off of the ground, and flipped to the first page.
“Is that senpai’s notebook?” I said to myself. It’s a habit I’ve been practicing for months now, where I say whatever’s on my mind, even if I’m in public. If you speak quietly, and particularly in English, people tend not to notice you. When they notice you, they usually can’t tell what you’re saying, and when they know what you’re saying they usually can’t even tell what you’re actually talking about. So far, it hasn’t caused any real problems.
You placed the notebook back on the ground and headed out of the courtyard. I began to follow you along the path to the abandoned apartment which you believed to be mine. From the corner of my eye, I saw the notebook, and quickly ran back to where you were standing and shoved it into my backpack. As much as I wanted to read it, I knew that it would already be difficult to reach a comfortable proximity without looking suspicious, so I paced out of the courtyard as naturally as I could without a second look.

The abandoned apartment is on the fourth floor of an otherwise functioning building; every day I climbed the stairs, opened the door which no one ever bothered to lock, and chilled for a few hours. As soon as I began to climb the stairs, I reached for the notebook, then caught myself; “Senpai is so observant,” I said, “what if he sees me with his notebook?” This could not happen, so I denied myself the satisfaction of looking inside until I was in the apartment, the curtains were drawn, and the door was locked in two places. I opened the curtains just a crack, to let in a little natural light in the absence of electricity, and turned to the first page of the Death Note.
“O-Oh,” I said. “How… weird…” I flipped through the remaining pages, which were blank save for several thin lines running down them. “What company would make this?” I said. “Who would buy it? Why does a joke book need so much room for writing? Are you supposed to use it as a diary?”
Finally, I said the truly disappointing part:  “I guess… this isn’t senpai’s notebook, after all.” I fell to my knees knees-first, and sat despairingly as I mourned my perceived loss.
“I—I should have know,” I said through newly-forming tears.
“Senpai would never lose track of his things.”
“Senpai would never leave a schoolbook behind on purpose.”
“Senpai would never own a book like this.”
“Senpai would never litter.”
“Senpai would never kill someone.”
“Senpai…” I hesitated; suddenly, I realized what I’d really wanted, and suddenly I realized that it hadn’t come true.
“Senpai wouldn’t leave a note for a girl he didn’t know that well,” I said. I got up off the ground, and said “That’s okay. That’s how it should be. I don’t want senpai falling for just any girl!” I tore the tie out of my hair to let down my ponytail and began to pull at it with my hands.
“I will prove myself worthy of senpai! I’m the only one, dammit!” My hairtie was pulled to its greatest capacity, but I held on; in those moments, it was my only link to reality—the pain in my fingers was the only way I had to remind myself that determination would not be enough. “I will suffer for Light. I will live for Light. I will do anything  for Light,” I said.
“I am worthy of Light.”
In that moment, I might have told you that I was calm—that I was great, thanks, but I’d rather be alone right now. But as I continued, repeating these words as a makeshift chant, I didn’t notice the tension in the room until the hairtie broke in my hands and one end struck me across the face. A thin red line was forming on my left cheek, red and painful to the touch.
“That was my fault.”
“I was careless.”
“I must not be careless.”
“I must become worthy of Light Yagami.”
I slipped the hairtie into my pocket; I have a habit of keeping things long after they stop being useful. I pulled the curtains shut all the way, slung my backpack over my shoulder, collectedly left the apartment, and spent the rest of the night studying Kanji.

The human whose name I written in this note shall die.

I would bring the Death Note to school three days later.
I got it in the courtyard; it only felt right that I should leave it there, too. You saw it on a Friday, so I had to hold onto it for the entire weekend that followed. I read through the rules again and again, until I had them memorized.


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

When you were at home, or went somewhere I could not go, or went somewhere without my knowledge, I occupied myself with a thick red book which my father bought me shortly before we came to Japan. Discovering Kanji: A Six-Month Guide to the Essential Characters. The book includes exactly two thousand Kanji, and after two years in this country and a year and a half of speaking the language, I know about eight hundred. My failure to learn the language resulted in the one C among many A’s, and I knew already that if I didn’t get into Tokyo U--the college of your dreams--then it would be because of my Japanese.
“Light! Hello…” Sometime during my third week of school, I approached you as our lunch bell began; though you had hardly spoken directly to me at all, I had already been lovestruck for exactly thirteen days. “You--You may not know who I am yet, but--” You gently placed your left hand on my right shoulder; I will never forget this moment.

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

Before I came here, Light, I was a B student. Now, if I could just improve my Japanese, I would be an A student, and it’s all because of you.
On that November day, just over two years before you found the Death Note, your palm was on my shoulder and my heart was in your hands.
“Emily,” you said, “Nihongo de.”

If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.

Now, I know that you were not playing with me--that you were not making fun of me, or telling me you weren’t interested in foreign girls. Having heard you say “In English” to a fair amount of students of both sexes many, many times, I know that you just wanted your peers to succeed.
But young Emily did not know. When you told her to say it in Japanese, she didn’t know what to do. All the Japanese she knew flew out of her head; even a simple “I like you” or “Hello, my name is” was beyond her grasp. I ran home, so I wouldn’t have to see you, and burst into tears the minute the door was locked.
Not that I’m complaining, Light; if you didn’t do things like that, you wouldn’t be Light, and if you weren’t Light, I would never have fallen in love.
That was the day I decided two things which I have never forgotten, and which I never expect to forget throughout the rest of my short life:  I will always love Light, and Light will come to love me. That no matter how difficult it would be, no matter how many things I would have to change for the better, I would become the girl of your dreams, the girl that you would have to love, and the girl who would only love you.

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

For now, my life was simple enough--obey Light, and love forever.