Prologue
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note.
AN: I will skip most of the rules of the Death Note because that would take too much time. Mostly, the rules will only be mentioned when the character react to them.
Thoughts swirl through the air, each only known to those who posses them. Realizations are made through the thoughts that connect to each other—some comforting, others heart-breaking. Some simply revealing.
"This place is rotten."
Two completely different individuals, thinking exactly the same thing. One of them in the heart of Japan, hiding and thinking. The other simply waiting.
It had all changed because the trouble maker had flicked his wrist instead of just dropping the book. If he had dropped it, it would have been found near a school . . . And a certain boy who would use it for his justice.
But we know that story.
The giver was sitting in a barren wasteland; the realm of the Shinigami.
"Two sideways skulls! I win again!" The Shinigami laughed as his opponent grumbled.
The third Shinigami ignored them. 'Yeah, it's been about five days.'
"Time to go check it out." He said aloud.
"Huh? Where are you going, Ryuuk?" The god of death who had won asked.
"It's all barren around here, no matter where you go." The loser added.
"I lost my Death Note." Ryuuk said.
The two Shinigami started laugh. "How clumsy can you get? Wait, didn't you trick the King into giving you two Death Notes? You mean you lost both of them?"
Ryuuk didn't answer.
"So, do you know where you dropped it?" The loser asked, trying to stifle his guffawing.
"The human world." The black and blue-tinged Shinigami said.
"HUH!?" They stared after him with the empty sockets of skulls as he walked towards the portal.
The receiver was walking onto the roof of a hidden building.
He did not mind that he was hiding. After all, it was only sometimes when others opinions helped him in a case. The fresh air filled his lungs and helped him to sort through the cases he was working on. It was as he stepped onto the roof that he noticed the black slab. It wasn't big enough to be a bomb, but not as small as a grenade. Curious, he approached it.
'A notebook?' He questioned. He crouched and picked it up with his thumb and forefinger. The wind picked up and made his messy black hair fly around his head.
"Death Note . . ." He raised one eyebrow, then opened it with his other hand. "This is a notebook belonging to a god of death."
Without further ado, he dropped the book, stood, and ignored it as he paced to the other side of the roof. He stared out at the city, slouching with his hands in his pockets. But he couldn't help as he translated the next line he'd glimpsed in the book: The human who's name is written in this book shall die.
He smiled. It was undoubtedly a prank. But how had it gotten onto the roof? He'd have to inform Watari. He turned and walked back to the book. He wanted to see just how elaborate this prank was.
He picked it up and opened it again.