...

Chapter 1: Something Innocent

"She built a cage of ribs and skin,"

"And promptly locked a lion in."

It was cold in the house when she opened her eyes, and rainwater was cascading in buckets down the sliding glass door to her balcony. She lifted her head with a soft groan and craned her neck to squint at the unforgiving red digits of her bedside clock. It was later in the morning than it appeared, the gloomy grey light of the storm clouds casting a deceptive shadow over Tokyo. Like an ashen lioness, growling and snarling with every stroke of lightning. Mai dropped her head onto her pillow with a weary sigh. It was too early to get up, yet she felt too awake to fall back to sleep. Thunder rumbled across the sky at a volume more deafening than before, striking an apprehensive chord in her heart, a remnant of an ancient childhood fear. Beside her, her fiancé seemed considerably less bothered by the noise, lying with his wiry arm over his eyes and a light snore stumbling its way from his throat.

Man could sleep through an earthquake if he wanted. Mai thought as she rolled onto her stomach and stifled a laugh. She contemplated waking him, for company if nothing else. It was a lonely feeling listening to the thunder by herself, but she knew she should let him sleep. His job wasn't an office one like hers, and he needed his rest. Besides, he looked so much younger when he was asleep. Peaceful and less on edge. Nothing troubling him.

She smiled and closed her eyes, perfectly content.

Then her phone alerted her to an incoming message, a soft buzzing, then silence. Mai turned her face to her nightstand with another groan and reached forward, fumbling for the small device. It eluded her grasp once, sliding toward the lamp. Twice, it clattered away from her groping fingertips. Christ, if this was Naru asking why she was late and forgetting she had the day off… She stretched and snared the phone in her fingers, drawing it close for examination. A text. A message from a lifetime, an innocence, she lost long ago.

[Matsuda]: Happy Birthday, kiddo!

Long, long ago.

Slowly, Mai sat up, holding the comforter around her bare torso and touching her toes to the floor.

With a forlorn sigh, she flipped her phone shut without a reply and her arm dropped into her lap. Through the rain-streaked glass of the door, she could see a couple dark lumps on the balcony she suspected were-but hoped were not-her plants. A flash of lightning and rumble of thunder shook the house again. Her fiancé continued to snore, although he did turn in his sleep so his back was facing her. Mai smiled at him.

Her own parents had never married. Matter of fact, they weren't even engaged by the time she was born. They were young when they'd met. Just teenagers. Her mother was such a naïve and stupid girl, and her father…. Twenty-three years ago, Mai was born in this house, the same house her father had grown up in. It was an unbearably humid summer evening, her grandmother once told her. The air conditioner had broken, leaving her poor, laboring mother to suffer in the stifling heat. Stubbornly, she'd refused a hospital's care and allowed only a private doctor to tend to her. She had her reasons, and, strangely, they were good ones for once. Her father had stayed by her side and held her hand throughout the night, Grandma had told her. He was a good man.

So they all told her.

Despite herself, Mai smiled. She remembered her adoring mother, the woman who, after coming home from work, would immediately run to her, catch her up, and plant kisses all across her face. She would tell her she loved her and that she looked just like her father. "My Mai." She would whisper in her ear. "My sweet, little Mai."

Unfortunately, though she loved her dearly, her mother never really learned how to be a mother. Too immature, Grandmother would shake her head sadly. And far too careless. Too concerned with her work and her appearance to attend to the demands of her young daughter. Stories like that broke Mai's heart more than she ever cared to admit, especially since they contradicted what she remembered of her mother's love. In the end though, she supposed she knew it was her grandmother that was more of a parent. The memories she had of her mother did make her feel more like a pet than a child, after all.

Her father had passed away when she was two years old, and consequently, Mai only had the vaguest memories of him, little more than a faint inkling of his voice and a general idea of his face aided by the occasional photograph. Everything else had gone by the wayside, forever buried beneath sands of time. Frankly, though, he didn't have much to do with her before his death. Like her mother, he too was constantly working which often left her in the care of her doting grandmother.

That wasn't to say she didn't have any recollection of him. They were just very disorienting memories. Ones she had trouble discerning from true memory and just images conjured in her mind. Some were clear as day. Some clouded over by fog. She could remember the day she learned to walk for instance. Quite vividly actually, despite numerous people telling her this was impossible. It was unusual for anyone to have memories from the age of two, never mind at twelve months. Some nonsense of how memory cells didn't reach that far back. This was ridiculous, she knew because she clearly remembered stumbling across the floor into her mother's waiting arms and her grandmother cooing about how she took after her father. Mother would catch her up and plant a myriad of kisses in her hair and face before tuning her around and sending her back to Grandma. She remembered that day. No one could tell her otherwise.

She remembered toddling up to her father when he came home that night, and there was a look of mildly impressed surprise on his face as he hung up his dark coat. He smiled at her, reaching down and gently pinching her cheek as her grandfather came in behind him. Daddy tried lifting her up, but she'd taken pride in her newfound powers and wouldn't let him, backing away and tugging at his larger hand. He said something to her then, but she was so intent on tugging him into the kitchen, she didn't listen. Her mother came running then, throwing her arms around Daddy's neck as she greeted him. Her grandfather scooped her up after that and hugged her. "Hello, Mai. Were you a good girl for your mother today?" He asked, smiling into her giggling face.

"Mm-hm!" She wrapped her arms around his neck, then, unbeknownst to all, grinned and waved at Ryuk behind him.

The shinigami grinned back and extended a spidery, black hand towards her little head, patting her soft, brown hair. Mai was never afraid of Ryuk. How could she be? He was with her right from the start, even if she didn't remember. Her undiscriminating newborn eyes had simply accepted him as part of the world she was born to.

She had no way of knowing she wasn't supposed to seem him. She had no way of knowing only those who touched the Death Note could see him. It was her mother who noticed first. While she was changing her one day, she noticed her daughter's wide and unblinking eyes were locked on the shinigami standing next to her. No doubt she'd mentioned this to her father, who probably glared at Ryuk. None of them were able to explain it, although all three of them would harbor a guess. Misa figured it was because of the Shinigami Eyes. Light theorized it was because she had two parents who used the Death Note. Ryuk just laughed that she was a freak, that every so often a human was born with the ability to see through deceptions like this, and the fact she'd been born to Kira was a hysterical coincidence.

Her father noticed her waving at Ryuk then, but before he could do anything, she was squirming in Grandpa's arms until he put her down. Light caught her before she could scamper up to the reaper. "Let's eat, okay? Sweety." He added awkwardly.

She nodded and Ryuk backed into a wall, disappearing from view.

There were other oddball here and there memories peppering her early years. She remembered the task force and her auntie Sayu. She remembered the sun on the floorboards and the ratty blanket she would drag behind her, pretending it was a snake. Grandma's plant room was her favorite place to play. She remember curling up to sleep between her mother and father on the rare nights they shared a bed. She remembered walking through the nearby park with her mother, who'd disguised herself with glasses, a short, black-haired wig, and plain clothes.

Of everything, though, she remembered her father the least.

After all, he really didn't have much to do with her before he died, killed in the investigation and apprehension of a murderer.

-0-0-0-

Author's Notes: I wasn't expecting to post this one today, and the chapter was intended to be longer. But as I was looking at it today, I felt it was perfect the way it was. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this first installment of Rotting Apple.

Inspirational Music: 'Family Portrait' by Pink!/'Evil Angel' by Breaking Benjamin.

...

Ghost Hunt is owned by Fuyumi Ono and Shiho Inada.

Death Note is owned by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.

If anyone can tell me where the quote at the top comes from and who it was written by, I will gladly credit it here.