The world is boring. Yagami Raito thought this while gazing out at the schoolyard from his window seat. Short black hair. Deep brown eyes. Bangs that fell just slightly over his brows. White shirt. Black slacks. A slender, well-proportioned frame. Even sitting in his desk, he drew the eye somehow. He'd overheard girls in his class say, "Yagami-kun just has that kind of presence, you know? He's like a painting." He'd heard them, but felt nothing in particular. He'd heard them, but felt nothing at all. (How many times is this now? Differential calculus. What's the point of any of this?) The blackboard was filled with equations. Raito could see all of them. They weren't difficult. He could solve them. But that was all there was to it. Even after class ended, nothing changed. Tomorrow, he'd be in the same classroom again, watching the same teacher write the same equations. He could see a class having PE in the schoolyard. Someone fell, and the others laughed. Raito watched the scene absently and thought, (They look like they're having fun.) But he didn't feel envious. The chime rang. --- After school, as Raito was stuffing his textbooks into his bag, three girls approached him. "[excited]Yagami-kun, want to walk home together today?" A smile. A full, open smile. Raito switched his expression in an instant. "[gentle]Sorry, I have something to do at home today." "[sad]Aw, really? That's too bad." "[excited]Next time for sure!" "[excited]Definitely!" The three girls disappeared down the hallway. The smile vanished from Raito's face. (They're all just looking at my face. If they knew the real me, they'd all run away.) He picked up his bag and stepped into the hallway. A little ahead, Girl A was saying something to her friend. "[excited]But he definitely likes me. I can tell from the way he looks at me!" Raito passed right by her without a glance. He never looked back once. Through the hallway window, he could see the autumn sky. November 2003. A sky so blue it seemed unnatural, without a single cloud. Raito looked at it for just a second, then continued walking. --- In the corner of the schoolyard, a black notebook lay on the ground. Raito happened to spot it on his way home. Someone must have dropped it—it was lying carelessly on the grass. The cover was jet black. It was damp from rain, yet somehow it looked heavy. He picked it up. Written on the cover in English were these words: **DEATH NOTE** (What a tasteless notebook.) He thought about throwing it away. But his hand stopped. Something about it intrigued him. For no reason other than that, Raito put the notebook into his bag. --- When he got home, he heard his mother Sachiko's voice from the living room: "Welcome home." Raito answered "I'm back" and went straight up to his room on the second floor. A single-family house in Setagaya Ward, Tokyo. Raito's room on the south side of the second floor was a six-mat Western-style room with only a study desk, bookshelf, and small bed. A simple room. He sat at his desk and took the notebook out of his bag. He opened the first page. Written there in Japanese were these words: —The human whose name is written in this notebook shall die. Raito raised an eyebrow. He continued reading. —When writing a name, the writer must have that person's face clearly in mind. This is to prevent the death of people who share the same name. —If no cause of death is specified, the person will die of a heart attack. —If a cause of death is written, it must be written within 6 minutes and 40 seconds after the name. —If ownership of the notebook is renounced, all memories related to the notebook will be erased. The final rule. Raito's eyes lingered there for just a moment. (Memories erased? That's an interesting rule.) But he quickly moved on to the next page. It was blank. Nothing written on it. Raito set the notebook on his desk and thought for a moment. This was absurd. A notebook with rules like this, lying in a schoolyard. Someone's prank? A made-up story? Or was some strange cult involved? But something nagged at him. (I should test it.) He turned on the TV in his room. An evening news broadcast was playing. The announcer was speaking with a stern expression. —In the ongoing serial robbery-murder case, suspect XX. Five victims confirmed. Multiple pieces of evidence have been found, but the defense claims... Raito looked at the TV screen. The suspect's face was displayed prominently. A middle-aged man. Narrow eyes. A mouth that seemed to be smiling. Raito burned that face into his mind. Then he picked up the notebook and took a pen. He wrote the name. He looked at the clock. The second hand moved. 10 seconds. 20 seconds. 30 seconds. (Nothing's going to happen anyway.) 39 seconds. 40 seconds. In the bottom right corner of the TV screen, a breaking news ticker scrolled across. —【BREAKING NEWS】Serial robbery-murder suspect XX suddenly dies of heart attack. Raito's hand trembled. He couldn't move, pen still in his grip. He didn't feel fear. No. It was something completely different. (It's real.) Something pounded violently deep in his chest. Hot. His mind was becoming sharp. There was a strange sensation, as if his vision was expanding. (I can erase all the rotten criminals in this world.) It was pure elation. --- Starting the next day, Raito began to move. First, he rigged his study desk drawer. A double-bottom trap. If someone tried to open it improperly, the notebook would burn. He spent an hour on the design. After confirming it worked perfectly, he placed the Death Note in that drawer. Next, he entered his father's study. His father, Yagami Soichiro, was a high-ranking official at the National Police Agency and sometimes brought work documents home. Raito quietly copied a list of violent criminals who had solid evidence against them but continued to evade justice through legal loopholes. (Criminals that Dad couldn't catch even after years of trying.) Every night, Raito opened the notebook in his room. He burned the faces from the documents into his mind, then wrote their names. One after another. In the quiet residential streets of Setagaya, only the sound of evening trains could be heard. In one week, 52 people died. --- The TV variety shows started making a fuss around the third day. —Violent criminals around the world dying of heart attacks in succession. Is there a connection?— The internet was faster. People who noticed that only criminals were dying began posting on message boards. A name spread. "Kira." It came from the English word "Killer," apparently. Websites calling Kira a god began to proliferate. Articles reported that daily access numbers exceeded several million. Raito heard this news and felt the corner of his mouth lift slightly. --- It was dinner one evening. At the table sat father Soichiro, mother Sachiko, younger sister Sayu, and Raito. Soichiro was in his early fifties. Short hair with streaks of white, always with a straight posture. He often wore a stern expression even while eating. Today the wrinkles between his brows were especially deep. "[serious]Violent criminals around the world are dying of heart attacks." The sound of a rice bowl being set down. "[serious]This is murder. No matter what the reason, there's no justification for killing people." Sayu looked up. The middle school girl had a refined face like Raito's. Black hair and large eyes. "[excited]Big brother, are you watching the news? Kira is definitely cool!" "[angry]Sayu! Don't say things like that!" Father spoke with enough force to nearly strike the table. Mother made a troubled face and said, "Now, now." Raito looked toward Sayu with a calm expression, chopsticks in hand. "[gentle]Sayu, Dad's right." "[sad]Aw..." Father's expression softened slightly. His face said, "I'm glad you understand, Raito." Raito took a bite of rice. (In one week, I've judged 52 criminals that Dad couldn't catch in his entire life.) His expression didn't change. He continued moving his chopsticks with perfect composure. --- Past midnight. Raito had the notebook open in his room. Copies of documents lay on his desk. He'd written down several more names tonight. The TV was on with the volume low. Then an unfamiliar sound came from the television. An emergency ticker. —Global simultaneous broadcast—Special program— Raito stopped and looked at the TV. A white-haired middle-aged man appeared on screen. He was sitting in what looked like a studio. Looking directly at the camera. "[serious]I am L." Stillness. Raito's body froze for just a moment. "[cold]Kira. You are evil. I will definitely catch you." (I can see his face. If I just know his name...) Raito moved immediately. He opened his computer and searched for the man's face online. White hair, middle-aged, L on television. Within seconds, an article appeared. "Lind L. Taylor." A foreigner, apparently. Raito picked up the notebook. He burned the face into his mind and wrote the name. He looked at the TV. The man clutched his chest. He collapsed on the spot. (I did it.) Raito gasped—in that very moment. The TV image switched. Not the studio. A black screen. And a voice, distorted and grainy, began to play. "[cold]The man who just died was a death row inmate substitute." Raito's hand stopped. "[cold]But your actions just now revealed several things. Kira is in the Kanto region. Kira can kill people by knowing their face and name. And—Kira can kill real, actual people." Silence. Raito stared at the TV screen, unable to move. (It was a trap. All of it from the beginning. A trap to test me.) His hands trembled. Anger. But not just anger. Something else lay beneath it. For the first time in his life, he thought this: (There's someone who can stand as my equal.) The world had been boring. It always had been. School, classes, classmates—nothing in this world required Raito's true abilities. Nothing demanded his full potential. But now, someone on the other side of that TV had perfectly ensnared him. (Who is this person?) Raito stared at the TV screen. Black. No more voice. Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. There was anger. There was humiliation. But something stronger than that burned in his chest. If he had to name it: longing. (I want to fight again. Against this person.) He didn't even understand it himself. This was someone he should kill. An obstacle he should eliminate. So why did he want to fight them again? Raito looked at the pen in his hand. The Death Note—a notebook with a black cover. Write a human's name in this notebook and they die. Picture their face, write their name, and 40 seconds later their heart stops. That was all there was to it. Simple rules. But now, he didn't know L's real name. Didn't know their face. They'd used a substitute. That was Raito's first, perfect defeat. (L.) He looked out the window. Tokyo at night. The distant lights of buildings glowed faintly over the Setagaya residential district. The autumn air chilled the windowpane. Raito gazed at those lights for a while. I will become a god. I will create a world without crime. A perfect order that no one can defy. I will use this notebook to achieve it. That plan wouldn't change. But starting today, there was one person he had to think about differently. Raito closed the notebook. He put it away in the double-bottom drawer. He checked that the trap worked properly. No problems. He lay down on his bed. He stared at the ceiling. (Next time, I won't lose. Never.) But until sleep came, that voice-distorted voice echoed endlessly in Raito's mind. This was the beginning.