Pilot

AN: Idk, here's the fanfiction that nobody asked for or wanted but I did anyway. I was going to make this about a hacker, (I could do it and be accurate and stuff if you guys want that, but…) I felt like that's common in Death Note fanfictions; and I'm going to be going into a cyber security type major next year so my Mary Jane alarm was going off and I'm not about that self-inserted writing life.

Also writing in third person is newish for me and it's super fun. If anyone has criticism, tips, advice, or anything really— please say something! Input on this writing style (and writing L), it would be super helpful!

"Most painting in the European tradition was painting the mask. Modern art rejected all that. Our subject matter was the person behind the mask."

—Robert Motherwell

"Today," the teacher drawls out, each syllable rolling deliberately off his tongue. His hair is gelled over the top of his head, but it still manages to bounce with each word, "I will be assigning a project that will be due in a month." He pauses and his eyes drift off, staring at the patterns on the ceiling for a moment before he returns his concentration; if one hadn't dealt with him before, they would think he was rolling his eyes. "It will be focusing on current events. I don't care what you do; as long as it's not Kira. Kira is too easy and everyone is talking about it. Furthermore, I want to see the emotions in your work. I want," he drifts off again, this time his eyes following the hands of the clock. Abruptly he starts speaking again, "I'm leaving now." His student remained unsurprised, after so many class periods being cut short by the teacher, all the students had grown to accept and expect it. "You can pick if you sketch, take a photo, paint, use clay, or whatever." The teacher failed to realize that he was currently instructing a clay modeling class and the students neglected to correct him.

The art majors began to rumble with creative energy buzzing among them. As different ideas began to form people with like minded plans clumped together, discussing how to execute the project. Among the students who had yet to pick an idea, or even talk to their classmates, was a girl named Delilah. She was particularly happy with the creative freedom given in the assignment, opting to paint. Her paintings were never put up in an art gallery and her classmates never complimented her abilities with a brush, but it didn't deter her; she painted mostly because she liked the smell of fresh paint and the feeling of a new brush.

After the teacher left, the students waited a few moments before filing out of the classroom as well. Delilah lets her shoes slide quietly along the floor as she glides to the exit. When she pops out of the main building, she finds herself flowing along with a crowd of students, lost in her thoughts. She allows herself to robotically follow the crowd, assuming that her peers won't steer her wrong. Her mind wanders as she tries to think of something that would be suitable for the assignment. She had never concerned herself with the outside world before and to start now would be alarming.

Suddenly Delilah walks into a person that had stopped walking. She looks up at single student to find that she was part of a cluster of students, all gathered around some tall fence. Delilah wasn't aware of the campus's set up entirely, being new at the university and Japan in general. Curious as to what has captured her peers' attention, she steps off the sidewalk to an unpopulated section of grass next to the fence.

As Delilah gazes into what she now recognizes as a tennis court, her eyes follow the ball that's getting whacked back and forth with such tenacity and resolve; she was skeptical that this was just a tennis match. She identifies one of the boys that's playing as someone who had spoken at the entrance ceremony. She hadn't paid much attention to what the two boys had said, but one of them had such bizarre attire that he had held a lasting impression on her.

Delilah gave a devoid sigh and picked a shaded spot under a big tree. She sat with her notepad, first sketching out a detailed picture of both opponents in the tennis match, then she moved on to different expressions in the crowd, so she could later paint them accurately.

Soon the game is over, and little to Delilah's knowledge (or maybe she just didn't care) the door to get out of the court was right in front of the tree where she sits. Her sketches lay in front of her, a rock sitting in the center of each one to hold them in place, and discourage the wind from stealing them. The clang of the metal tennis court gate alarms Delilah; her eyes shoot up and she finds the two boys talking among themselves. Delilah, internally cursing herself for not paying attention, jumps up to confront the boys; she needs to find out who had won for her painting.

"Excuse me." Delilah says carefully stepping over her sketches.

The boys break away from their conversation. The brown hair boy's eyes snap over to Delilah, yet the other boy's eyes were caught on her sketches. Delilah, focusing on the one that is paying attention to her, asks, "Who won?"

The one with brown hair smiles and responds, "That would be me."

He said it hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck feinting embarrassment, a more observant person would have noticed this. Delilah nodded uninterested at the boy, his subtle actions lost on her.

"For now," says the other boy, drawing his eye from the sketches finally.

"I wouldn't say that Ryuga." The brown hair boy says. His artificial embarrassment from the victory beginning to diminish, perhaps because Delilah won't notice either way.

Ryuga says nothing to the brown hair boy and instead speaks to Delilah, "I like your drawings. I noticed that you have one of me; can I have it, or buy it?"

Delilah looks at Ryuga and replies after a moment, "I may be using it for a project, you can have it after I'm done with it."

Ryuga, displeased, doesn't press the issue directly and instead asks, "What's this project?"

Delilah boring of the company says flippantly, "It's just an assignment to paint something current in the world."

Ryuga responds easily, "A tennis match doesn't seem like a current event noteworthy enough for the assignment."

"Well maybe I won't uses the drawings for the assignment. Maybe I'll make the painting anyway." Delilah states growing quite upset with Ryuga, not only had he made her question her only idea, he keeps hassling her about the drawings. Normally she would give people the sketches they ask for, mostly because she's impartial to her creations, but for some reason she just wants to annoy Ryuga.