Just a quick story from ryuk's POV about the shinigarmi realm. This has all come from my imagination and I dont know if any of it is true. This is as if ryuk never went to the human world. This is a story by mail and i hope you enjoy it :) Rated M for cutting and suicide.
Everyday, the same, there's no change. Ever. Jut sitting here, doing nothing. Occasionally looking down into the human world. There's not many shinigami left these days. And there's no point us being here anyway. The only reason we stay is because we're afraid to die, but, isn't everyone?
Apples, the only food I eat, are plain and hard. Like a rock. I don't need to eat, I do it imply out of boredrom. Just like how i take a sharp stone, or blade, to my wrists every day and cut. Cut away at myself. But of coure shinigami can't hurt. they dont feel anything. they dont feel lust, love, pain or guilt. So i sit, cutting away at my hard flesh. There's no blood, and the skin heals straight away, so it's not like anyone's going to find out.
Every shinigami began as a human, and that's what's upsetting the most. I miss my old home, my parents, my non-existing friends.
-flashback-
"ryuk, what sort of a name's that?" laughed the boys in my class, just like they did every morning. It was half 8, and school had just started. I was in year 9, the time when i should be concentrating on my grades, but that was something i couldnt do.
"Hey Ryuk, show me your wrists, you been cutting them latley, GOTH!" They called me. I ignored them and put my earphone in, blasting out black veil brides. People we're so sterotypical them days. Yeah, i wore black clothes and put on a lot of eyeliner, but how did that make me a goth, were'nt goths depressed? I was far from it. I had a good life... sort of...
-flashforward 1 year-
That was a year before i decided to kill myself. I woke up on a saturday morning, everything had been planned the night before. It was 7 o'clock and i shoved on some black skinnny jeans, my favourite asking alexandria t-shirt, and for effect (I was very dramatic back then.) a long, black, cloak. Nobody will miss you, i told myself.
I crept out of the house with a black bag full of stuff and went to the playground at school. I found the big, thick oak tree and took the rope out of my bag. I tied it in a tight knot around the sturdiest branch took my knife out of my bag, as well as a permanant marker and s box to stand on.
I stood on the box and tied the rope around my neck, very tightly. Then i pushed the box out from underneath me. The rope cut into my neck, slicing my skin, and the rope quickly became stained red. I took a the knife and carved into the tree one word, shinigami. Then i outlined it in black marker pen so it was easy to read. I then took my last breath, and stabbed myself.
Little did I know that a shinigami had made me do that all along. The death note is a powerful thing, the deadliest weapon ever. And I surpose that why shinigami exist, to protect it.