|•Oh Death•|•Death Note•|

|•Prologue: Yuki Hirayama•|

The characters theme song is above. ^

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that's in this story besides my OC's. Therefore I don't own Death Note and it's plot. So no suing here~!! ^_^ I wish I could keep L though...you know, the real one. Not the one that's in my bookmark, all over my schoolwork, my books and-a bunch of other stuff.

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Thursday Nov. 23, 2006

"A family-owned bakery just got robbed by a group of men. As of now, the family are only mildly wounded-"

Click.

"A 10-year old girl has been kidnapped for five days, the person who kidnapped her sent a ransom for $10,000-"

Click.

"The search for the Choko Yakuza group continues as more women disappear from the Kanto region-"

Click.

It's always the same.

Always.

A teenaged girl, a woman in Japan's standards, pondered this as she casually sat in the chair of the almost empty room.  The room was a bleak gray, walls dull and lights so bright one would become blind if they look up at the ceiling long enough. She stared blankly at the small T.V. that was in the left upper corner provided ever so graciously for other visitors, her still grasping the remote in her right hand, now useless now that the television has now been turned off. Her left arm was resting against the gray table in front of her. With another empty chair facing her on the other side of the table.

Every day it's the same thing.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

Like a never ending wheel. It's such a bore. Why can't humans do something different for once? At least with her, she can make things more exciting. She internally smirked at the mere thought, ideas going off in her mind that made blood rush through her body from mere excitement.

Suddenly the door to the room opened, an old man that seemed in his early fifty's came in. The light caught in the lens of his glasses as he stared at the girl with his medium brown eyes as she stared back with an open amused smirk that others would call mocking, a few stray dark brown bangs coming over her twinkling eyes. The old man's forever frown seemed to deepen as he sighed and put a hand to slick back his already neat gel-filled hair.

"Hirayama, this is the fifth time this month." He began.

Hirayama put her hand under her chin as her elbow continued to rest on the table with her other arm laying across the table, fully relaxed. As if this was an everyday occurrence that one would end up in a police station within an interrogation room.

"So?"

The man seemed frustrated as he held his nose with his forefinger and thumb, eyes clenching. He then sat in the chair in front of her and leaned against the table with his arms crossed.

"Hirayama-San, you must learn to control yourself with your," he paused. Appearing to find the correct word. "...tendencies." He let out finally as he stared seriously but tiredly into her eyes. Eyes so mysterious and out of this world, exotic purple eyes that shouldn't be at all natural but genetics says it is.

"Aw, Mr. Chief." Hirayama said teasingly, saying the 'Mr.' in English. "Now why would I do that?" Her smirk was clearly taunting to the old man now.