Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: CARE
THE NEW ERA, PART 1
Year: who knows?
Time: ditto.
It had been a desolate place for millenia. The whole world was cast in a permanent grey hue. Jagged rocks poked out from the dry ground as far as the proverbial Shinigami eye could see. Withered trees stood barren and fruitless, their roots reaching for nutrients they'd never find. Of course, some trees did bear a few apples. But nothing like those of the human world. These were dry and rock hard, shaped like distorted hourglasses, and the favourite delicacy of absolutely nobody. To the Shinigami, these trees were nothing more than decoration. Props to be looked at, but never really used. Only two things seemed truly alive: the winged embodiments of death that inhabited the world, and, a solitary young apple tree that was still slowly bearing fruit- shiny red fruit.
One Shinigami was casting his gaze over the others, watching their ageless notebooks hanging uselessly from their belts.
"You know what could be funny?" he blurted out.
A few Shinigami looked towards the source of the croaky voice, willing to entertain him. Others remained staring at the dirt below them, or laying on pointy rocks looking up at the murky sky. One Shinigami, who went by the name Ryuk, was scratching his back on a slightly curved, bone-shaped structure that jutted out from the earth.
"What if we took all our notebooks, and just... dropped 'em. Let 'em fall into the human world."
The Shinigami looked around for approval, but received little. At first.
"Why? What's the point in that?" asked another Shinigami.
"Uhh, well... It would be fun!" replied the architect of this grand and totally not reckless idea.
The other Shinigami seemed lost in thought, until another finally spoke up. "If we did that, it would cause so much damage to the human world!"
Vurn looked at the protester with confusion. "...So what!? Who cares? It would be fun!"
A sense of agreement spread throughout the crowd like a pestilence.
"You know... that's a great idea, Vurn!"
A few other Shinigami began to blurt out their approval too and the noise started to pick up, with the Shinigami chattering amongst themselves as they gathered their notebooks into a pile. Vurn gratefully accepted each notebook like it was some kind of charity drive at a humble church.
"Thanks. Thanks. Nice. Thanks."
Even Ryuk volunteered his notebook, not being able to resist the premise of such a brazen idea. Previously disinterested Shinigami began to fly towards the commotion, and they watched as Vurn started throwing each notebook, one by one, into the wormhole to the human world. The Shinigami were collectively cheering and laughing as Vurn continued to throw the notebooks in. But then- SPIT!
The latest notebook recoiled out from the wormhole and back up into the Shinigami realm, causing the Shinigami to scramble to try and catch it. Others were murmuring in confusion. Vurn looked from the notebook pile to the portal and then back again, and scratched his head. He threw another one in but this time, it bounced back right into the face, causing a ripple of laughter amongst the death gods. Fiercely, Vurn hurled yet another notebook into the wormhole. For a brief moment, it vanished... before rocketing out of the portal like a cannonball towards a group of Shinigami. They dived aside just in time as it clattered across the stone where they had just stood.
Vurn frowned. "Hm. I think there is a limit," he theorised, causing a stir amongst the Shinigami. Numerous Shinigami began to gather around some of the seeing spheres that were littered across the realm. These allowed them to have a birds-eye view of the human world, and they watched as notebooks fell through the atmosphere across the world.
"Hehe. And here I thought nothing would ever be interesting again," chuckled Ryuk.
The Shinigami Realm
* * *
Year: 2026.
Time: 3pm
Location: Chōshi, Chiba Prefecture, Japan
"Ow!"
22-year old Mawaru Kibou (回る 希望) rubbed his head in annoyance and confusion. Feeling the back of his head, he concluded he hadn't been hurt too badly, but still...
"What the hell..."
He was thinking out loud before trailing off as his eyes came to rest on the notebook on the ground beside him. He had been sitting on a bench at the waterfront, thinking about what he was going to get for lunch, before a strange object suddenly hit him on the head. He reached down and picked up the notebook, which was light in colour - a kind of ivory white - although slightly frayed around the edges. On the front, in messy black text, were two printed words in English: DEATH NOTE. Tilting his head slightly like a confused puppy, Mawaru began to sound it out.
"Desu.. Nōto?"
He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the notebook. He opened up a translator app, which returned him: デスノート - Desu Nōto. As he thought.
"Okay..." Mawaru breathed out, moving his palms along the fabric of this strange object. That's when his phone began to ring.
"Kibou! How is Kuniaki? Is he any better?" asked the voice on the other end.
"No, mom, I'm afraid not. Gramps is, well, gramps. He's fighting on, but-"
"Ugh. Honestly, who pays them so much? We should get him transferred from Chōshi as soon as possible. This is-"
"Everyone is trying their best, mom. I will let you know if anything changes," blurted out Mawaru as he hung up the phone, not wanting to listen to his bereaved mother further insult his colleagues.
Mawaru looked at the waterfront in front of him, and the ducks and other birds floating around on the surface. He looked down at the Death Note sitting on the bench beside him and couldn't help but smile a little. Where did this come from? Did someone drop it? Perhaps one of the birds wanted to give him a gift? Shaking his head with a faint smile, he opened it up and saw a bullet pointed list on the backside of the cover, but of course couldn't read that either. He flicked through the pages. At first, it seemed like any ordinary notebook, with writing on each page, but then he realised: many, many names were written inside. Some were written in Japanese, many others in unfamiliar scripts and the Latin alphabet. Some didn't even resemble human languages or names. Some were scribbled hastily, others written with meticulous care. Every page contained nothing but names. Sometimes another line or two appeared beneath them, resembling a brief description. Whatever they meant, he couldn't tell.
He skipped a bunch of pages and arrived at a huge chunk of empty ones, which made up the rest - and majority - of the notebook. Mawaru closed it and tucked it into his bag. Lunch could wait no longer.
Arriving back at the hospital, his colleagues greeted him sympathetically as he scanned his way through corridor after corridor.
"Hello, Mawaru-san," said the receptionist as walked past, which he returned with a smile. Before he continued through, he swiped a pen from a pot at the desk.
"For note-taking," he said innocently.
Mawaru got to the dreaded staircase and began to climb. The elevator was of course an option, but he felt a need to remain active. For the physical benefits of course, but he also didn't want to remain idle and slip into unfiltered thinking...
"Kibou!"
The junior doctor stopped climbing as he looked back down the stairs, and saw his coworker and friend standing at the bottom. She ran up to join him and they continued upwards, their footsteps echoing in the spacious stairway.
"Hey, Yuka," said Mawaru warmly as they walked.
"Your gramps has been a little more stable lately, y'know," said Yuka with a genuine smile.
"Really?"
"Yeah! Who knows, maybe we'll get him out of here in the future," she replied optimistically.
"My mom wants him out of here, too. She thinks we aren't doing a good enough job," sighed Mawaru, causing Yuka to stop in her tracks.
"We? Or us?" leered Yuka.
"Well... you, and the others. But I told her you are all doing the best you can!" he clarified, not wanting to offend his friend.
"Hmph. He isn't gonna get much better than here, I tell you. Besides, it'd cause him a lot of stress if we transferred him. Don't you worry. We're not going to give up on Chōshi's hero," said Yuka while proudly pointing to her chest.
Arriving at Mawaru Kuniaki's room, his grandson pressed his hand against the glass window, wishing he could make him all better. So many medals were scattered on desks around the hospital room, having been unpacked from countless old boxes with fervor when he was in a better condition. Yuka squeezed her friend's hand and gave him a look of reassurance, and he went in. Mawaru looked around the room and noticed a machine in the corner of the room.
"We recently installed an updated ECG, remember?" asked Yuka slightly playfully, which tipped Mawaru off that it was quiz time. "Could you give me a reading, please?"
After looking at his colleague for a moment, he walked up to the ECG. "Nothing new, really. It's irregular..." Mawaru tapped the screen at the start of the ECG. "There aren't any clear P waves."
Yuka smiled at him, so-far proud. "What's his ventricular rate?"
After not receiving a response, Yuka began to poke. "Come on Kibou, you know this one! Even I can do it," stirred the girl who was trying to bring some light to a room that had only seen dark days.
Mawaru counted silently. "...About one hundred and ten."
"Eh, close enough," affirmed Yuka cheekily.
Mawaru adjusted the blanket where it had slipped from his grandfather's shoulder. He's in enough discomfort as it is, so he should at least get to feel warm. He sighed and leaned against a table. "It's all consistent with atrial fibrillation. His heart's already weak. If it's beating too quickly and irregularly, it doesn't have enough time to fill properly between beats. Less blood is pumped, and... yeah."
He looked at his sleeping grandfather and the laboured rise and fall of his chest. He didn't look peaceful. He looked burdened. Unable to bear the silence, Mawaru refilled Kuniaki's water jug before checking that his oxygen tubing sat comfortably against his face. Yuka sat quietly, idly scrolling through her phone.
"Ugh. We lost to Ghana... have you caught any of the recent games?" she asked, trying to fill the silence.
"I can't say I've had time," replied Mawaru awkwardly, absent-mindedly tapping his fingers against the desk he was leaning on.
Yuka studied her friend and colleague. His eyes were sunken and he had a habit of zoning out, staring blankly into the distance for a brighter future that may not come. She saw how he tapped the desk restlessly, almost neurotically. He was the definition of stressed. Junior doctor? More like senior physician.
"Yeah. You do look tired," remarked Yuka matter-of-factly.
After another slightly-too-long period of silence, Kuniaki's eyes began to flicker, which made Mawaru brighten immediately. Yuka excused herself to give the two of them privacy. Kuniaki reached out his hand, instinctively searching for the grandson that hadn't abandoned him in all this time.
"Oh Kibou, how I hate hospital beds. And love the sight of you," chuckled Kuniaki before wincing.
Mawaru took his grandfather's hand and forced himself to laugh as he moved to sit on the wobbly yet unmoving chair beside his grandfather's bed.
"Stretched out, all helpless... It is truly horrible. To not be who you used to be. Even if you are... up here," said Kuniaki as he tapped his skull a few times. His messy grey hair had mostly fallen out by now and there wasn't a smooth bit of skin left on his head. Kuniaki saw the sadness in his grandson's eyes, and gripped his hand.
"Yuka told me you've been more stable recently," said Mawaru, causing Kuniaki to laugh.
"Stable. Maybe my suffering is stable, but that doesn't mean I am having a good time! Still... It is the people like you... who are the true heroes. Not us old fossils," said Kuniaki, coating his truthful compliment in a humorous veneer.
"Oh gramps. I don't see what's so heroic about it. You're the hero, really," said Mawaru back to him.
"A long time ago, maybe..."
"No. You still are," stated Mawaru with conviction, catching his grandfather off guard a little.
Shifting himself painfully, he tried to sit up more, which Mawaru helped him to do.
"Sometimes... I wish you would all let me die," hissed Kuniaki.
Appalled, Mawaru replied, "I hate when you say that, gramps." Once, his grandfather's wishes for death had stunned him into silence. But they were nothing new these days.
"It's just how I feel, damn it," retorted Kuniaki, putting an end to that. "I've had my time. You are growing into a wonderful young man. There is no point to... this."
"A point, huh. I guess that is something we're all looking for," observed Mawaru.
"What is the point for you, Kibou? What do you want to do with your life?"
"I don't really know. I guess, help people? People like you. We are all trying really hard."
"I know," softly affirmed Kuniaki. "I know." He stopped to catch his breath and swallow down the pain. "But, giving up doesn't mean that you are giving up. Sometimes, it is just acknowledging... the inevitable. The help I need isn't the kind you are all willing to give me."
Mawaru processed it all in silence. "Our responsibility is to save lives. To make people better. But it is also to care for them, and sometimes that isn't so simple." Declaring that, he then stood up. "I wish I could give you the help you need, gramps," said Mawaru, not triumphantly, but quietly, which caused his grandfather to raise an eyebrow. Mawaru left the room to continue his shift elsewhere.
Golden streaks lit up the sky as Mawaru left the hospital after the completion of his shift. Warm light basked the city of Chōshi in a beautiful tint, but for all the cordial colours in the sky, and the attitude of the people in his life, Mawaru only felt cold as the gears were turning in his head. Once more, he sat on the bench by the waterfront. It was a dark wooden bench, aged yet sturdy, having served countless people since its construction. Watching the soft waves flicker under the evening sun, he began to unzip his bag, and took out the Death Note. Turning to the first page, he once again read the rules of the notebook, though this time they had Japanese translations scrawled and crammed underneath each one.
- The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
- After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.
Mawaru breathed out. He had no reason to think this random notebook actually held any power. Yet, he couldn't explain why it had landed on his head. Morbidly curious, he twirled a metallic pen - branded with the logo of Chōshi General Hospital - in his hands. Gramps wants peace so badly. Being hooked up to these machines isn't helping him with that. If I have the power to help him... would it be right? The idea of actively taking a life was almost unthinkable to Mawaru. It went against everything he was raised and trained to value. But he couldn't ignore his grandfather's wishes, either...
Do I write the cause of death first? Or the name first? I wouldn't want to give him a heart attack out of the blue. That would be so cruel... No, this is madness. It's just a stupid joke. The power to kill by writing a name surely can't exist...
Biting his lip, he reluctantly held the pen over the first empty page he had found. Ducks skimmed the water as they flew just above the surface in front of Mawaru. They were karugamo - eastern spot-billed ducks - from what he could tell at least. Cute.
Mawaru shook his head and then patted his hands against the sides of it. Stop distracting yourself. He began to write the cause of death, extremely carefully. Not a single misspelt word. Sweat dripped from his head, landing on the pages, which he then rashly tried to dry off, for fear of tampering the notebook and affecting its power... if it had any. Character by character he wrote the name of his grandfather, feeling tears well up in his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to finish writing. But wait, if I stop, would that kill somebody else? No, one of the rules said you have to envision the person's face for it to work...
Crying out, he released his grip of the pen and it dropped to the ground, rolling towards the waterfront. Mawaru buried his head in his hands. Get it together. It doesn't actually work. Just do it and get it over with. You can go see gramps tomorrow and bring him a bite to eat to make it up to him...
He searched around the grass for the pen and picked it up again, swallowed, and then completed his grandfather's name. 回る 国明 - Mawaru, Kuniaki.
40 seconds, and then I can get on with my life. But if it works... who are they going to call first? My mom, or me? I am close by after all. Stop worrying, nothing is going to happen. Enjoy the view...
Mawaru, of course, could not enjoy the sunset, which would be soothing and wonderful to him on any other day- but this was no normal day. He checked his watch. Twenty-nine, thirty. He scanned the water in front of him, but it was nothing more than visual noise. The waves rolled gently against the shore. Mawaru's foot kept tapping involuntarily, instinctively, uncontrollably. He placed his hands together. Thirty-nine, forty...
Nothing.
You're not out of the woods yet. Give it another minute or two. They wouldn't call that quickly...
Mawaru began to bite his nails but he forcefully grabbed and pulled his hand away. Bad habit. Unhygienic. You know this. He looked at Chōshi Bridge, connecting the Chōshi side in Chiba Prefecture to the Kamisu side in Ibaraki Prefecture across the Tone River. It was made of a distinctive red steel and white pylons that reached up to catch the seaside air. His phone sat temptingly in his bag. Maybe he should call and check in on gramps? Yeah, there'd be no harm in that. It wouldn't be uncharacteristic to do so. A duck swam onshore in front of him with its hatchlings. Mawaru reached into his bag, and took hold of his phone...
...and that's when the phone began to vibrate.
The location of Chiba Prefecture - home of Chōshi - on a map of Japan.