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Sif's eyes latched onto his house as he rounded the busy street corner. The warm breeze was still blowing, and it rustled his clothes enough to make him seem unkempt. Ignoring the state of his clothes, the white haired boy strode on, his home growing ever closer. He reached the front door of the laundromat, and opened it quickly. A small bell sounded, and echoed. Seth strode through the building, and past the almost entirely vacant store. Business was less then good. A young girl who could've been Sif's sister (if she was also Korean) sat behind the counter, not bothering to glance up as he walked past, nor even greeting him. He was used to it though, and the idea that she could've been more polite didn't cross Sif's mind as climbed the stairs at the back of the building, and crossed the hallway towards his room.

As Sif sat down on his bed, he smiled a bit. The lack of general noise most likely signified that his father wasn't home for one reason or another. He would at least have some respite to do his homework during, which he quickly took advantage of. Sif took off his backpack, and shuffled through it, pulling out a decrepit Math textbook, before placing it on his bed. As he did, he noticed a black bound notebook hanging from his window sill, perched precariously. It caught and kept his eye trained on it, before a wind gust broke his spell.

His feet supported his thin frame as Sif walked over to the window sill, before he slowly raised the sash with his trembling hand. As soon as the window was raised far enough to allow his hand to slip underneath, he did so. Something about this book was entrancing, without even looking at all of it. Sif turned it over in his hand, scanning the covers. The book's title was written on the standard side, for Americans. That is to say it was meant to be read from left to right, which Sif had grown accustomed to. [i]Death Note[/i] it read, the title written in an odd yet extravagant style. Slight imperfections seemed to imply it had been handwritten by someone. . . Or in this case something. Sif slowly opened the book to the first page, and devoured the information.


[center]Death Note
How to use it
I
●[b]The human whose name is written in this note shall die.[/b]
●[b]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.[/b]
●[b]If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.[/b]
●[b]If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.[/b]
●[b]After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.[/b][/center]


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[/i] Sif's breath caught in his throat at the thought. That was what he was thinking, but how could he possibly think that. He had no right to choose who lived or who died. Then again why did he have an obligation to restrain himself? If someone found out, if it worked, and worked well. . . What to do? He could save the world. He could change the world. He could even destroy the world. The power was in his hands, and was it not his responsibility to use that power? Did the world need saving? He couldn't get rid of it, but. . . Could he use it?

Sif could cause genocides, or miracles, and he tried to fathom which was more terrifying. He shuffled over to his bag, and placed the book into the front pocket of his backpack. Before he did anything rash, he wanted to think this through. Turning his attention away for the moment, he opened his textbook and began his homework, using the thick yet frail book as a surface to write on.