The summary says it all. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

When he saw the falling notebook, his first thought was to pick it up and give it back to its owner. Because students on the brink of finals-induced insanity tend to throw their notes outside the window when none of the words were making sense anymore. And it was just a notebook. What harm could be inflicted on him?

So he bent down, curled his fingers on it and belatedly thought:

But there are no buildings or any elevated structures in the vicinity. So how—

Albeit his line of thought was broken by the glaring white-inscribed letters of the cover. 'Death Note' it said.

He flipped the cover, squinting his eyes as he tried his best to make sense of the foreign language written on it.

'The human whose name is written in this note shall die.'

His grip tightened on the notebook. This is simply revolting, Kurapika thought. Even if it was just a supposedly harmless prank —probably from students whose sense of reality had left them— as the student council president, Kurapika would make sure to give a thorough lecture and a justified punishment to this person.

"Just who—"

'This is just the piled up stress of finals week creating visual hallucinations for me.' Kurapika rationalized right away.

So he closed his eyes and breathed. He needed more oxygen to clear his mind and come back to reality.

Because Kurapika was a person of logic. He would not believe an idea presented to him unless it was evidence based. And even if the evidence was in front of him, he would still need a thorough investigation before he would deem it as a fact, not an opinion. Because pieces evidence could also be manipulated to present a different truth. Kurapika had lived to reveal and defend that truth. And that was how a future lawyer must think, Kurapika believed.

He opened his eyes and almost —if not for the last second rationality that poked him— screamed. (There might or might not be a brief slip of a high pitched sound that resembled a squeal.) So he had his hands speak for him as he threw the notebook to this creature's face which was futile because it just slipped through him. (Which defied the law of nature because the creature was obviously not translucent.)

Said creature just turned his head to where the notebook had landed.

"Who— Wha— Wh-what—" Kurapika's words were failing him, as he scrutinized it, making sense of its flapping bat-like wings, its elongated dark claws, the humongous stitches patching up black and white flesh on its body (plus the unnecessary addition of white fur around its shoulders and the globular/bulb earrings), but what most perplexed him was its human face, seeing through the black markings that marred its skin.

Albeit it looked too divine for a human.

A male human, Kurapika observed.

Finally, it spoke, with the palpable air of supremacy in its— his voice as he faced Kurapika.

"I am what they call the shinigami king, Quwrof Wrlccywrlir."

The death god? They do exist? Kurapika thought. But he still refused to believe this as a fact. His muscles were now relaxed and his breathing stabilized too. He willed logic to rule his mind once again. There must be some trick to this. A hologram? An extremely realistic humanoid?

"And that thing you've just thrown is my 'Death Note.'"

There had been a notable technological advancement in this generation that even a realistic death god would be possible to be invented. This must be an intricate prank of some robotics student who would like to test their creation. Kurapika was aware that in this university, there was an abundance of talent in all fields. But rules were rules, an approval must be given first before testing them.

Kurapika took mental notes of the things he'd have to do afterward. Even when 'Hell Week' had just ended, his free time was still divided because of his responsibilities in the student council. He then withdrew his phone from his pocket to produce evidence for that student's misconduct.

Except the screen was not registering any creature on it. He brought down his phone to check if Quwrof, as what he introduced himself, was still there—

"Do you desire power, human?" Quwrof asked.

A shiver ran down his spine as his smile gleamed with pure malice. He felt death. And he was convinced then and there, 'I will die here.'

He noticed that Quwrof had landed on the ground, wings hidden. It propped up his chin, but he maintained his posture because he must not show fear in his presence. He clenched his hands, raising his head more to accept his challenge.

"With a simple stroke of your pen, you can change the world." It spoke with a lilt of seduction, showing the notebook on his other hand. "You are chosen to bear this power. Would you take it?"

Kurapika looked through Quwrof's eyes, those orbs of death that had been eliciting the inescapable fear in him. (Because they were so empty and so inhumane.) But he did not care because he was mad. He was sickened by his words. Even if this creature was real or a human creation, he was being underestimated and he disliked it so much.

His eyes squinted with anger, yet his voice remained calm.

"I do not. Because I will build my own power. I will change the world through my abilities. And I do not need some murder notebook to help me." Kurapika replied.

Quwrof was silent, maintaining nothingness his expression.

"Then..." He took out a copy of the notebook, together with a gothic-themed pen, pointing its tip on the page. Quwrof's eyes were on him, "...shall I demonstrate the authenticity of this notebook to make some sense in your stubborn mind?"

"No. I don't want to risk even the littlest probability of its authenticity. And besides, genuine or not, my answer will be the same."

"I see." He replied, showing his wings once again, flapping them as he rose from the ground. "Then I might just give this to another human who would love to use it for their own gain. The greedier, the better."

"I'll take it!" Kurapika shouted, grabbing for the notebook before logic could warn him. "But I will never use it."

Quwrof tilted his head. He seemed really perplexed of Kurapika's declaration.

What now? Kurapika thought. He could only hope that this was enough to change the death god's mind for now. He would have time to plan this out. He had the confidence to succeed in whatever he'd put his mind to.

"Very well then," Quwrof finally spoke. " But I have to remind you that I will write your name in this note when you begin to bore me," his eyes were glinting, staring at the top of his head, "Kurapika Kuruta."

Kurapika knew he should at least be bothered. Because it was a real death god looming behind him, (he finally decided to acknowledge its existence, at least) leaving trails of death as he moved. Normally, people would have the highest level of anxiety. They would be crippled by the constant fear for their lives, losing the capability to function properly for days or weeks, or maybe even months.

But this was Kurapika, and he believed he could easily adapt to any given situation. 'Expect the unexpected' was what his late father would constantly tell him, mentally preparing himself at all times.

So not even the burden of a murder notebook could completely throw him off. In fact, Kurapika had deemed this as a life mission now. He would be the only owner of the Death Note in the human world while maintaining Quwrof's interest in him or at least divert his attention from the actual usage of the notebook, as he continued his normal life as an exemplary law student and a student council president.

Quite a packed schedule for him, but Kurapika could manage. He always did.

"Are you sure no one else can see you?"

"Unless they have touched the note."

"Will the possession be transferred right away?"

"No."

"Good," Kurapika turned his heels. "Then let's go."

"Where?"

"Home."

Quwrof simply stared at him.

"My apartment complex," Kurapika explained as he walked. "Aren't you going to be my omnipresent companion from now on? Then that would mean you are now my unofficial roommate. Use the couch for sleeping, by the way."

Kurapika continued his strides, not caring about his companion. Because he still had a train to catch and he refused to allow this death god to interfere with his daily routine.

"Shinigamis do not necessitate sleeping or eating. They are just means of lazing around."

"I figured, which would be convenient for me, financially mostly."

Kurapika heard the fluttering of wings behind him. Finally, he moved. Then there was a shadow above him, forcibly halting his movements. Quwrof's face was curious, amused but mostly perplexed of this mystery called Kurapika before him. Inching closer, their faces were but a breath away.

"Your fear had dissipated so quickly, and now you have even deemed me as a normal existence. Aren't you afraid of death?" Quwrofs claws were shaping his face; lightly pricking Kurapika's flesh with their pointed nails and rough texture. " Don't you fear the unknown that lies in me?"

"I am only afraid that I won't be able to fulfill my promise to my parents before I die."

"Which is?"

"To be the best lawyer in Japan."

Quwrof smiled, lacking the menace this time. It was just a casual curve of fascination on his lips.

"You truly are an interesting human, Kurapika."

"Of course I am," he replied, lifting an eyebrow. "And there's more to come if you'd stay with me and watch me, Quwrof."