Chapter 1- "A Cheetah Named Light"
#1 of Furry Death Note
"Light."
The cheetah could hardly run faster than his chaser. Despite being the fastest in his grade, he would always catch up. And he knew what would happen the second he caught up...
"Light?"
The fist was raised. He grabbed him by the back of the collar, yanking him backwards, nearly choking him. He could feel his throat closing, time ticking away as his breath slowly cut shorter.
"Liiiiiiiiiight?"
Nothing could cushion the blow. He fell to the ground, his face throbbing where his eye normally was. Please just let him go away, he thought. But he knew he wouldn't. His whole life goal was to make the youngster as miserable as possible, and he knew it. From the way he would stare at him with the wild look in his eyes, the angry breath passing through his teeth, and the clink of a belt buckle slowly coming off.
He knew what came next. The lashings. The burning. The world turning his back on him as he descended upon him.
Oh god...
Please, no!
"Light McAlister!"
"No!" he screamed. Light opened his eyes, panting hard. His thin, ropey tail swished about frantically. All around him, his classmates looked at him as if he belonged in a psych ward. In a way, he supposed that would be much better than his current situation. Light turned his attention to the teacher, who was glaring at him the way his Father would right before he... "What... What did you say?" Light choked out.
She cleared her throat and the vixen said, "I said, are you going to pay attention in my class or doodle in your notebook and stare off into space all day?"
Light didn't realize he was doing anything with his pen. Normally whenever he had these midday terrors, his fingers clenched into fists. He looked down on the page his book was open to. In the middle of the college-ruled lines was a large circle with an upside-down star in it. Odd, he thought to himself.
He ripped the page out and stuffed it into his pocket. The teacher went on for another minute about how she doesn't tolerate demonic drawings in her class. She was a heavy Christian, everyone knew. One does not wear a large golden cross around their neck for absolutely no reason. After a minute of her babbling, she went back to talking about some writing test coming up.
Light had no interest in writing anything. Father always pushed him to sign up for these special courses offered at the local college for people with exceptional talents like him. Sure, having the fastest writing pace for a 17-year-old was okay; but Light didn't see any use in that. What good is being able to write 200 words per minute?
Like all things Light usually did, he kept his talent hidden from the general public as an act of defiance towards his father. Purposely writing an essay he could have done in minutes, in about an hour. One time, Father caught on to his act and forced him into taking this test for fast writers. Light threw it then too. While others around him were finished copying a 5000-word passage in about an hour, Light made sure to count the time in his head and he finished with a total time of 3 hours, 45 minutes, and 10 seconds.
"Your son isn't a fast writer at all. In fact, he scored below average," the test makers told him face-to-face when Light finished.
"Bullshit," his dad growled. Light tried to leave, but his father made him stay right where he was. "Light is faster than any of these damned writers. I don't need you idiots to tell me that." Father roughly grabbed Light's wrist and dragged him home. Light's wrist was nearly broken that day.
The day that Light hoped for was next week. His 18th birthday. Soon this nightmare with Father would officially come to an end and he could leave him. That day could not come fast enough. All though, he doesn't blame everything on Father. His behavior was the result of a domino effect, started by Mother.
Mother left six years ago, completely out-of-the-blue. One day, she never came home. Father tried desperately to get ahold of her, but she never answered. Days later, when it was obvious she was never coming back, something inside of Father snapped. Light was forced to be on the other end of Father's anger even for the smallest of things.
But Light was also scared of people finding out the truth. His father's warning when this all started still rang in his head. "You ever tell anyone about this," he said, "you're going to wish I had killed you instead." Every time people saw Light with a black eye or a gash across his cheek, the cheetah would always have the perfect cover up such as, "I got into a fight with this bear. And won."
The class bell rang. Light shot up from his seat, threw all his stuff into his backpack and ran out of the room. One advantage of being a cheetah is how much faster he is than most of his classmates. He was out of there before most of the kids up front even shut their books. He ignored the mutterings of "Freak" that spewed from the mouths of his peers. Quite frankly, he didn't care what they thought of him.
It was better to have them thinking he was a freak than a total bitch who doesn't stand up to his own father.
It was the end of the day. Most of the high school attendees were going out to their cars, off to whatever the weekend could possibly throw at them. Light walked towards the front entrance by the big oak tree, waiting for Father. Father never let him get a car, not even for his 17th birthday when he finally got his driver's license. "You are to go nowhere without me except school," he said, rather sternly. Light cherished every moment he got without Father within a hundred yards of him.
And another Friday has concluded. Where did that symbol even come from? The one he drew in class. Light did not know of anything hell-ish or demonic or Anti-Christ. (Unless Father counts. He counts, right?). Either way, now everybody thought he was some sort of demon-worshipping freak.
How could this get any worse?
A familiar silver car came around the bend and slowly eased its way through the parking lot. Father's car. Light sighed and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. As he moved for the car, something hit him on the back of the head. At first, he thought it was one of those kids throwing stuff at him, subjecting him to even more ridicule.
It was a notebook. One with a black leather cover, thin pages.
Light picked it up off the ground, then looked up and saw a few guys looking over and snickering at him. "Joke's on you!" Light called out. "I'm keeping it!" He stuffed the book into his bag, not paying attention to the confused looks on the other kids' faces. Perhaps the book didn't come from them at all.
He tried not to think about it as Father pulled up and honked his horn, even though he was only a few feet away. Light slid into the passenger seat, buckling in tight. "Did you really have to honk?" he asked.
Father said nothing. Better than him saying something. Light leaned against the window and watched the parking lot slowly disappear in favor of the city streets as they sped out of range of the school. People bustled up and down the streets, cars turning through roundabouts because they made a wrong turn, various businesses going through the mid-afternoon rush of customers who happen to be downtown.
One shop in particular spiked up Light's interest. Madame Tiffany's Supernatural Parlor. It was supposed to open up on Sunday, according to the sign on the front door. Granted, Light has never been interested in anything supernatural or what's beyond what you see. However, most of those places are scams anyways, so what's the harm? He made a mental note to go check it out once it opened.
Light's house was on the other side of downtown. In their own little apartment-slash-little business place. Father ran a bookstore during his spare time. Light always kept his distance during work hours. Whenever he needed help with something, Google was only a few clicks away on his phone. Never would he dare disturb Father, especially during a busy day.
Today was an exception. Right as they got home, both men headed upstairs to their little apartment. It wasn't much to look at; faded beige walls, an old TV set, a recliner with wears and tears all over it. And this was just the living room. Light's room was down the small hallway at the end. At one point, it was a walk-in closet for the last people that lived here. Now that it was under the McAlister name, this little space became Light's.
Light threw his bag down on the bed as he heard Father turn on the TV for some sports thing. Maybe he's in a good mood today. Light was not going to blow this opportunity. Besides, there was something else he wanted to see now that he had some alone time.
He opened his bag and pulled out the black notebook he found. Clearly those kids weren't the ones who hit him on the back of the head with it. If it wasn't them, though, where did it come from?
The book was small, his paw nearly hid one whole cover of it. Half the pages inside were white, the other black. The white pages, Light saw, were like actual notebook pages. Wide Ruled, it looked like. Light didn't get a closer look at the black pages. They smelled... awful, like an overdose of ink. Light nearly gagged from one whiff alone. He shut the book, and there on the front cover were two words engraved in silver that nearly made his heart skip a beat.
Death Note.
"Death Note"? Like some sort of notebook full of death?
Light breathed through his maw, opened the book to the first page and started to look through it. The tops of every page had the same symbol; a skull surrounded by a white ring. And the headline on every page was the same: "Death Note: How to Use It". Oh, so these must be instructions of some sort? Instructions for what, exactly?
Light kept reading. Like with his writing, Light could read at an exceptionally fast pace.
Rule 1: The person whose name is written in this note shall die.
Light immediately shut the book. There was no way this thing could actually cause death. It was just a notebook; like something could've been thrown together with a cheap book and a lot of ink. However, the concept did seem to fascinate him. How would writing someone's name down kill them?
He continued.
Rule 2: This Note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
Ok. That made a little more sense. But it still struck Light as odd. It couldn't really do anything, he told himself. It was just a notebook. Just a notebook.
The cheetah stuffed the book under his mattress, somewhere where he knew Father wouldn't find it in case he barged in for some random reason. Light took out his textbooks and started to do his homework. But he couldn't concentrate. So many reasons Light wanted to drop everything he was doing and check the notebook out further. After all, there was always a possibility it was real...
He shook his head.
Enough, he told himself. This was getting ridiculous. Was he really going to lose focus over a stupid book?
He looked down at the page his math book was open to. "If the derivative of y is x2 - ex, what is y assuming that f(0) = 10?"
Light zipped through problems like there was nothing to it. Around ten minutes into it, he was in the zone. Like nothing was going to break his concentration. Then his pencil broke; the snap louder than it should've been. He was gripping the broken half hard and it fell from his paw. Beneath his mattress, the book started to feel like lead.
Fuck it.
He went to search for a pen.