Title: Death Note

Author: vashsunglasses

Rating: T

Fandom: TMNT

Disclaimer: The TMNT belong to Mirage, not me.

Summary: Four chapters, Four turtles, Four possible recipients of the Death Note.

Raphael

(continued from Prologue)

As far as Raphael was concerned, murder was murder, no matter how you did it. And this Death Note thing, writing someone's name in a notebook to kill them, that would be murder. He wanted to destroy it, but worried that perhaps it was indestructible, or that it would blow up in his face or curse him or something. He didn't even know if it was REAL, but he'd lived through enough weirdness that he doesn't really want to find out. He just wants it gone, it's giving him a headache.

He thinks about telling his brothers about it, but he doesn't think they could handle it. Michelangelo was too innocent and curious, Donatello was too cold and detached, and Leo, shell Leo had that whole big brother complex thing going on. He didn't know how he knew, just like he didn't know how he knew how valuable the Death Note was, but he knew that his brothers simply couldn't handle it.

He thinks about telling Master Splinter about it, but for some reason he doesn't. He can't. Even though he doesn't want to use the Death Note, the fact that he has it, that it's his secret and no one else's gives him a sort of power. He knows that kind of thought is dangerous, but he also knows that for the first time in a long time, he feels like he has some control over his life. He's not just the guy who has to do what everyone says, he's the guy with a secret, and that makes him feel important.

And so he hoards it, and hides it. Keeps it safe, and takes it out every once in a while to admire it. But he doesn't use it, not matter how tough things get. And the years go by, and he isn't a teenager anymore, and the enemies they face are worse than any that came before, but he still doesn't use it. He doesn't need to. He doesn't want to. He can do everything that needs doing with his own two hands and his own two feet. He doesn't need a pen to do something that he could do better and more honorably with his sais.

And so there he is, in his early thirties having owned the Death Note for fifteen years and never used it. And when the original owner of the Death Note comes back for it, a demon named Ryuk, he isn't even surprised, just a little curious why it didn't come back sooner. He asks it why, but Ryuk just laughs and says that of all the creatures who have ever touched his Death Note, only he hadn't been tempted to use it. What was it that made him so different from every other creature in the universe? What makes Raphael unique?

And Raph shrugs, "I guess I'm just a nice guy, ya'know?"

But Ryuk just smirks and fades from view, his voice carrying on the wind and saying, "Let's give it another 15 years and see what happens, hmm?"

And Raphael frowns, but continues to stroke the black cover with his strong hands covered in delicate green skin. Power doesn't have to be used to be appreciated, he thinks to himself. Just having it, just the possibilities, just that is enough.