𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀. | 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲

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I wake with a start, my dream still replaying in my head. 'Another weird dream again...' The sunlight that pours in through my windows causes me to turn away with a groan. I sit up and grab the locked journal at my bedside table and unlock it with the necklace around my neck. From there, I grab the attached pen and start to write.

First, I write the date. November 28, 2006, I start. I think back to my dream, and I write.

In last night's dream, I saw a myriad of things. I saw two beady red eyes and a black notebook falling from the sky. On the notebook, it read "Death Note." After, I heard a news report saying something about a suspect dying. Just before my dream ended, I saw a motorcycle in the middle of the road, just about to get hit by a large truck. What these events mean, I've no clue.

Like always, 

Y/N.

With a sigh, I closed and locked my dream journal. 'I get these dreams every night, yet I never quite know what they mean. I'd have to say though, 'I get up and start to get ready for school. 'I don't think my dreams have ever been as...grim...as last night's were.'

I head downstairs, where I smell the delicious smell of my dad's cooking. "G'morning Ichigo," my Pa yawns, ruffling my h/c hair as I walk past him to sit down.

He pours me my favorite tea and slides me a plate of food. "Morning Pa," I reply, smiling at my dad.

As I eat, I observe my dad. He looks exhausted, his eyes half-lidded and bags under his eyes. I feel a pang in my chest at the observation. Ever since their recent divorce, Pa has been struggling financially. My ma did take half of his assets, after all. I bit into a strawberry, making my dad laugh. I groan playfully, knowing what he'll say. "Little Ichigo, don't you know that eating other strawberries is cannibalism?!" He chuckles, taking a seat next to me."Papa!" I laugh, setting my fork down.

He gives me a once-over, admiring his work on my uniform. The school I went to required uniforms, but both me and my dad hated the female uniform, so he worked on giving me a better one. He took the male blazer, cropped it, and gave me one my size. Under it, I wear a white button-up and red tie paired with a black uniform skirt. Perhaps I am bending the school uniform rules. Just a bit.

I'm soon out the door, fixing my hair and holding my school bag. Out in front of our houses, I see Light, and we start walking to school together. I still remember him from all those years ago, when I wanted to be his friend. "How'd you sleep, Y/N?" The boy asks, starting up some small talk.

I look up at him, and the sunlight does him justice. His light brown hair glints in the sun, creating a sort of halo effect. His eyes meet mine. "Not bad, more weird dreams, though." I sigh, popping my shoulder.

We reach the school and head to our classroom. "Huh. What did you dream of?" he questions, a curious glint in his eyes.

"A man was on the verge of being hit by a truck." I simplify, not willing to tell him the entire dream. How do you explain to your childhood friend that you dreamt of a notebook falling from the sky, among other things?

We sat in our seats, next to the window. People came up to us to talk, and the lesson began shortly after.

♛

'Finally, time to go,' I think, relief making my shoulders untense. These classes can start to feel a bit uninteresting when you already know a good majority of the topics.

For the class I was just in, I also sat in a window seat. The second the teacher leaves, girls and boys alike come to my desk. I talk to them politely, but I have to admit, I don't want to. These "popular kids" aren't normally good people. I've met girls here who talk behind the backs of their friends, guys who think it's okay to make classes hard for their teachers, and so on. I glance back at the scenery below the window, catching a familiar figure holding a book.

Excusing myself, I leave to go walk home with Light, and I catch up to him in the courtyard. "Light!" I grin at the boy. My eyes get caught on a black notebook he's holding. "What's that you're holdin'?" That book is oddly familiar.

"Oh, just a notebook I dropped," he says, putting the book in his bag. He doesn't show me the front of the book for some reason, but I see a glimpse of a white title. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

As we're walking towards our neighborhood, a person walks by, watching the news. It was another murder. When we pass the person, Light speaks up. "Aren't you sick of this?" He asks quietly.

"Of what?" I eye him inquisitively. He must be in another philosophical mood.

"Of these crimes. Of these criminals who make the world more unlivable each day," his gaze is fixed forward. We are approaching our houses.

"Sure I am. I wish there was something that could be done to stop it." I say absentmindedly.

"Maybe there is."

"Maybe," I reach up and hug Light.

I enter my house to the noise of soft jazz and my dad's sewing machine. I wouldn't call it noise, however. I was used to the sound, and it became comforting at times, especially with a fashion designer dad. "I'm home!" I call, taking off my shoes and setting them at the door.

"Come here!" My dad calls back. I walk to his workroom, where I see a slew of high-quality fabrics that my dad doesn't use often. In front of all the fabrics, I see a stunning silk suit with my dad's unique flair of color and texture.

My jaw drops. "Woah. Did you take on a rich client or something?" I lightly poke the suit.

"Yeah, and guess who?" He smiles, pausing the hand stitch he was doing.

"Who?"

"Hideki Ryuga!" My dad exclaims, jumping up and hugging me tight.

"That's amazing, Pa!" I cheer with him, happy for my dad.

"I'm going to send it to him soon, little Ichigo! Your papa is going to get rich!" He spins me around, making me giggle.

"Okay, okay, Papa! I'm getting dizzy," I laugh as my dad sets me down in worry.

"Ah, sorry, Y/N. For now, go wash up, and I'll make dinner, and you can study and eat," he pats me on the head.

"Okay!" I head upstairs to take a bath.