Chapter One

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Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own its characters. Also, any mention of some sort of mental health issue is completely made up. Don't take it seriously, I got it off of Wikipedia, the worse source of information according to any type of legit research. Some of what I mention may not exist, some of it may. Any form of abuse mentioned is also made up for the purpose of this story. No, I did not google abuse, it wasn't necessary. If you don't like anything written, well, to be frank, that isn't my issue nor is it my lovely/amazingly-awesome/fantastic/wonderful/I'm running out of complements- beta's (Natasha-Tenshi/Wolfy-sama's) issue. HOWEVER, constructive criticism is welcome… as long as you aren't being an ass about it. This is the only time I will be adding this. To add it to other chapters would be tedious and most people know how a story works by now. Unless you're like, five years old, in that case, what are you doing child? Go back to watching Little Einsteins.

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Celeste always had been an odd child. She kept to herself. Wore only specific shades of dark purples, blues, black, the colors of the galaxies. Her natural white hair and seemingly royal blue eyes stood out among a crowd. Not that she would ever spend a significant amount of time in a large crowd. Many people thought her overall countenance strange and disconnected. It wasn't that she didn't care, she just never had anyone to care for. The day that Kira began to kill, Celeste was at her usual appointment with a specialist in parapsychology.

"Celeste?"

She jerked at the sound of Kara's voice. She didn't consider them to be on first name basis, however Kara insisted. Kara was convinced that Celeste had some form of power. If she did have a power, she most certainly would not tell Kara.

Celeste's parents were obsessed with the abnormal and with them both being dark haired with dark eyes and tan complexions, Celeste stuck out like a beam of light in the middle of a void. When she was born, Celeste had an odd shaped birthmark on the inside of her right wrist. Looking down at her wrist, the odd star-shaped mark stared back at her. Her parents, while obsessed with the possibility of her having some form of odd supernatural power; cared less for Celeste herself. And so, she was forced to speak with Kara two times a week.

"Celeste?"

*sigh* "What is it Kara?"

"You could at least try to listen to what I am telling you."

"No, not necessarily Kara, you see, I do not have a choice in coming here. While I may seem to be a fascinating specimen for you and the couple who seem to insist that I am their child, it is entirely against my will. However, the fact that I have a few days until I am considered an adult and able to find my own way of living seems to be a trivial matter to all that surround me. While the concept of adulthood does not seem at all trivial to myself, it seems that it will hardly be a challenge. The fact that people such as yourself seem to be convinced there is something else other than what exists that we know of would be something I could not begin to comprehend. All that is there is death. All that is waiting for anyone and all that exists in our trivial pathetic lives is nothing. We are insignificant in the face of oblivion and while you and my birth givers waste your lives believing in fantasy, I will be living out my days as I know human life to be lived out as, mundane. We will all spend our lives working at various degrees until we die and that is all."

She stood from her chair, Kara was such a boring person. All of her colors were muddy brown. Her eyes, her clothes, her hair, even the glasses that balanced delicately on the tip of her nose. She reminded her nothing of the vast sky that held billions of galaxies, supernovas, and stars. The people here were so average. They had no relevant interests. They didn't even consider the beauty of their own bodies. She looked at the clock. There was still ten minutes left before she could even consider leaving. The last time she left early she was forced to go on simple rations for a month; barely eating enough to live off of. Although, soon she would not have to worry of such matters. Coming of age had its advantages. Having to live off of rations unnecessarily, however, would be an illogical choice.

Celeste began to wonder what Kara's blood would look like. Would it glisten like a star? Or would it be as dull and brown as her personality? She considered changing dimensions to test out her theory, but decided against it. Kara would probably enjoy dying in another dimension. There was nothing that awaited there either. Only more death and more of the same boredom. The only place she had yet to be was in the actual void known as space. Celeste could travel amongst the stars but she could never travel outside of whatever atmosphere she landed in.

Contradictions. She was aware of them. How she herself was a large one. She supposed that is another reason she has been placed with this mockery of a psychologist. Celeste felt that someone with an actual degree for mental health would be of more assistance than a person focused on what society accepted as "not real".

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Kara was still speaking to Celeste. She seemed to be off in another world. The young woman before her had frustrated her to no end. Although she had wished she could make some progress with Celeste, things seemed to be going nowhere. She watched as Celeste absentmindedly traced the star shaped birthmark on the inside of her wrist. The look on her face switched from slight curiosity and pleasure to a look of contemplation. Why she was feeling that way, Kara would never know. Celeste barely spoke in their sessions unless she seemed particularly annoyed. She would usually stare off in no particular direction and amused herself with her own thoughts. Kara had no idea what power the girl in front of her held, but she knew whatever it was, it was somewhat sinister in nature.

Celeste's parents were colleagues. Quite famous for their published works on philosophical theories of the supernatural entities in our world. They had come to her with their daughter shortly after she was born. The odd coloring. The strange mark on her tiny delicate wrist. Those were only the beginning. As soon as she began to develop, all of those around her could tell she was far from normal. The first time she had spoke, it was not a single word, no. Her parents had actually worried that she wasn't developing correctly, when in reality, Celeste had waited until she could speak a solid sentence before speaking to her parents. As soon as they knew she could comprehend simple conversation, the brought Celeste to her once again.

Upon their first official meeting, she could feel the child taking in every detail about her. Scrutinizing the clothing she wore and the slightly chewed pencil in her hand.

"You are average." She said, and then slightly tilted her white head of hair to the side.

"Your light is boorish. Can I snuff it out?"

A sinister child indeed.

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The move from America to Japan was nothing more than boring for Celeste. It had been weeks since her last visit to Kara, subsequently, it had also been weeks since she turned eighteen. The money she had ferret away for this occasion was plenty, as her parents, while mildly possessive in a manner that was almost inappropriate, also provided her with funds whenever inquired for. Her new home was not too far from the college she planned to attend somewhere in the near future and was of a modern setting. Built with economically friendly materials and ran off of economically friendly electricity. The wide windows were something she had been very specific about, for how could she see the stars if drywall was in the way? Her living room furniture was all black. The rugs all blue. Her kitchen stainless steel. Her study organized with personalized book covers to keep everything coordinated. Each item placed meticulously where it belonged and the word clutter knew no meaning here. The trees that hid the property line were bare from the chilly weather. Checking over each item, making sure it was in place, Celeste began to head up the stairs. Her bathing room, toilet room, guest rooms, and bedroom seemed to all be in order.

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As Celeste swung her legs back and forth while sitting on the side of her bed, she contemplated the concept of death. Of balance. If there was life, there must be death. If there was love, there must be hate. Parents were supposed to love their children, but murderers most often loved their victims. Celeste did not love her parents. She did not love Kara and she did not care for anyone's existence in particular. Not even her own. She had never taken a life. Murder was considered morally wrong and was accepted as so by the majority of society. The television was playing in the background; not a noise she particularly enjoyed, but the news was on and it was mildly entertaining when there were possible cases involved. Celeste frowned at the unattractive (At least, unattractive to her, no one else would be bothered by the appearance of an HDTV) television. It did not match the color sequence of that particular portion of her room. From time to time she found this extremely irritating. However, this particular broadcast seemed to distract her from her annoyance.

Spontaneous heart attacks were killing off the majority of notorious known criminals around the world. Many would die at once. The mass deaths were impossible but not random. There was someone orchestrating these events. It was one person, she was certain of that. However how they managed to kill so many from such distances is what pike'd her curiosity.

Tuning out everything around her, Celeste began to focus on the lights that were each person's soul. She did not know what she was, but she hid it from all that suspected and she refused to admit she was anything close to supernatural. The supernatural did not exist. It was not tangible and had no scientific basis. All she was doing was satisfying her usual delusions. Celeste had been diagnosed with Depersonalization Disorder, Delusional Disorder, Depression, Empathy Deficit Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and an extremely mild case of Schizophrenia.

Beginning with the closest around her, she let her vision fade to white, waiting for the small black dots that indicated death. One by one she watched as their little lights twinkled out. She found it odd how a person's' light would just disappear, but if a star's light were to disappear it would become a vacuum of destruction. Returning back to reality, she again began to contemplate death. Because she could see the lights going out, should she catch the perpetrator? Or should she help them?

After thinking on it the whole night, she decided to discard the choice for another time. Celeste walked to her closet to choose her outfit for the next day. She did not want to jinx her own light by wearing white, so she chose to wear blue instead, running her fingers across the color-coded clothing until she reached the appropriate section. It was a ritual habit, for her to start at the first item and run her fingers along until she came to her choice for the day. Not doing so left her feeling incomplete and would leave her irritated for the remainder of the day. Celeste, although she has only just moved in, was comfortable in her new home. It was something she had already been working on for almost two years prior to her coming of age.

As she set out her clothing, she watched her reflection in the vanity mirror. She was too skinny for her age, too petite. Her eyes were abnormally large and framed by pure white eyelashes and accented by her matching white eyebrows. It was difficult to discern that she even had any eyebrows to begin with. Her skin was almost as white as her hair. She had once decided to see what she looked like when she focused on someone's light. Her eyes would fade to white as well. She did not know why, that is just what she saw on the recording she had taken of herself.

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