DeathNote 2014

*Inspired by DeathNote* Orphaned at a young age, Nero Kagami was raised in England by his adopted parents. He always knew he was adopted, and had always been curious what happened to his parents. The revelation that arises - and the mysterious notebook that he picks up - leads him to seek further answers and, ultimately, retribution.
But there is someone else in the background, who may have the means to stop Nero before he's even started...

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1. Nero

Chapter 1 - Nero

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Death Note title, idea or characters. Such credit goes to the original author(s)

***

How To Use The Death Note

“The human whose name is written in this Note 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.”

***


Nero Kagami was no one special. Not in the eyes of his classmates, at least. To them he was the Japanese orphan for whom their sympathy had dwindled long ago.

They used to feel sorry for him, in primary and middle school, when a child would need the presence of his real parents. But as they grew and their naivety shrank, they realised he had a good life: loving adopted parents with good jobs and a big house, as well as one of the biggest brains in the school.

And Nero had noticed this. He knew no one cared about him now, and he didn’t care. In truth, Nero was a very solitary young man, and the very prospect of people clamouring around him saying things such as “Poor you” or “If you ever need to talk…” was sickening. Being needlessly comforted was one thing. Being needlessly comforted by people who didn’t mean it was something horrid.

Hence why he would often sit at the back of his class, somewhere near the corner, with a row of heads in front of him keeping him just out of the teacher’s view, and a good view of everyone else as, despite his solitary nature, Nero liked to see what other people did.

Seeing people acting immaturely, and likely ruining their futures, amused Nero. It just left more opportunities for him.

There was only one person Nero thought he could, if need be, get along with, and even then only in small doses.

This one person was the single other smart boy in the school, who had beaten Nero by a mark in the GCSE exams the previous year – they had, remarkably, taken the same subjects.

James Madison.

Nero saw James – or JM as he often called himself – as both competition and a potential ally, which was, in his eyes, the perfect combination.

But the time for conversation had yet to arrive, so Nero resolved himself to focus on working, and avoid friendships.

Especially with those he disapproved of.

‘Psst. Kagami,’ hissed one of Nero’s classmates, leaning in from the right. ‘What’s the answer to question four?’

Nero turned his head slowly and, rather purposefully, shifted a strand of black hair. ‘You actually got to question four, Connor?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘Goodness, that’s the most you’ve ever managed without asking for my help.’

Connor frowned and held back a sigh. ‘Look, Nero, you’re clever, I’m not--’

‘You can say that again,’ Nero interrupted, making no attempt to hide his disdain. He scribbled down the answer to question nine, barely giving it a look, and placed the pen down gently. ‘It’s a very simple question, Connor. One I will not read out to you, nor provide an answer for.’

Connor’s fingers went white around his pencil. ‘Just tell me.’

‘No,’ Nero replied. He shifted his hair again as he turned away, using it to block Connor from his periphery vision, and then picked up the pen again. He stared at question ten for a moment and then, in a half smile, wrote down the answer and put his pen down once again, the worksheet completed.

A hand gradually crept onto his desk, and Nero watched it with veiled amusement. Was Connor really that stupid? Casually, Nero removed his short plastic ruler from his pencil case and, turning suddenly to face the would-be thief, brought the flat of the ruler down – hard – onto Connor’s exposed skin.

‘Ouch!’ Connor pulled his hand away quickly as a majority of the eyes in the classroom turned to look at him.

‘What the hell are you doing, Connor?’ the teacher, Geoff, asked, crossing his arms resignedly.

‘Uh, nothing, sir,’ Connor lied.

Nero chuckled – a rare sound – and folded the worksheet in half. ‘Geoff, sir. I have completed the work. May I have a break?’

Geoff sighed and smiled simultaneously. ‘Of course, Nero, off you go.’

Nero nodded, pushed as chair back and walked out of the room. As he passed through the doorway, he heard another pair of footsteps following him. Once he was clear of the room, thinking it was Connor, he spun round, one fist prepared to fight off his classmate.

His fist was, however, caught in mid-air by the pale hand of James Madison, who gazed at Nero with dark eyes. ‘A bit paranoid, aren’t we?’

‘I don’t particularly like it when people follow me so closely,’ Nero retorted, pulling his fist free of JM’s grasp.

‘Hm…many people don’t, I find,’ JM muttered, scratching his head through messy, blonde hair.

Nero frowned and turned away. ‘Stop following me.’

‘Following you? Who said I was following you?’ JM asked. Nero wished he could see his face so he knew where to punch.

‘Just go away.’ Nero stormed away from the self-proclaimed “brainiac” and traversed the winding corridors of the Sixth Form until he reached the library – the perfect place of refuge.

To his relief he found he had escaped JM, and took a seat in one of the library’s shadowed corners where he rested his head and closed his eyes, with one thought – following a couple of snappy comments about Connor and JM – playing in his head:

What the hell made the world such a terrible place to live in?

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