Raito sat quietly in his dark and desolate world, watching Kagai and Yokoshima gambling over some fool mortal's life. A pool of muddy water had collected at his feet, and he saw his own face, mercilessly reflected, every Shinigami feature evident. True, even as a Shinigami he wasn't the ugliest, but he was ugly enough to inspire in himself a feeling of total revulsion. How had the future-god of his world become this terrible Shinigami?
"Eh, Raito!" Yokoshima called. "The stakes are rising! Two long life spans, waiting for the winner. Care to join us?" Raito shook his head in disgust. These gambling games were a useless waste of time.
"I'd rather rot to death," he hissed back. Yokoshima shrugged.
"Suit your self," he replied, before turning back to his game. Raito snorted and glanced back at the pool of water.
What he had said was true. He really did want to rot away. What was the point in this meaningless life? At first he had continued to kill criminals from his position, but soon realized it was pointless. What benefit would he receive? He was no longer human.
So he spent his days angrily contemplating what in his plan had gone wrong, occasionally killing some one near death to stay alive – for, despite his threat to let himself rot away, his strong sense of self-preservation had never left him. Eighty years had passed.
He wondered how Shinigami survived this boredom. Gambling could only take your attention for so long… and then he remembered. How he himself had come to possess a death note. Someone's sheer boredom.
So he set off towards the portal to earth, to change the lives of millions. Because he was bored.
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Ichiro glared down at his little brother. His adorable little brother. Who was currently playing with a Robot Model AX23007. Ichiro's Robot Model AX23007, to be exact.
Life wasn't fair. Ichiro was the perfect one. The one that got straight A's, who excelled in sports, who was among the most popular in his private elementary school. But Kenshin got all the attention from the adults. Kenshin was fawned over. Kenshin this, Kenshin that. Ichiro was tired of it. He stood up and stomped away. His mother looked after him reprovingly, but he ignored her.
He sat in the middle of his bed, silently cursing Kenshin's birth. The five-year old had brought him nothing but disregard. Ichiro noticed something falling outside his bedroom window. A black notebook.
Curiosity filled him as he made his way to his window and peered down. No one was outside to pick it up. Ichiro couldn't help it; there was something uniquely attractive about this black notebook.
He made his way down the stairs and out the back door. A few of the gardeners were tending to the rosebushes – his mother's favorites. It was the only thing Ichiro shared with his mother anymore. Kenshin hated the prickly thorns of the rose, and stayed away from them, but Ichiro and his mother always strolled through the aisles of roses. He picked a dying rose from its spot on the bush where it waited to be sheared away. It was blackened, but beautiful in its own way.
Ichiro strolled confidently over to the black notebook.
"What are you doing?" came the kindly voice of Akita-sama, Ichiro's favorite gardener.
"I dropped my notebook," Ichiro replied. Akita-sama looked skeptically up at the top floor of the four story mansion.
"From all the way up there?" he asked. Ichiro blushed.
"It was an accident. I was mad." Akita-sama's old face split in an understanding grin.
"Kenshin?" Ichiro nodded. But already his anger at the little tyke was drastically waning. He was only five, what was he supposed to know? Ichiro himself had probably been that demanding at that age.
"But you know what, Akita-sama?" Ichiro asked.
"What?"
"I'm not mad at Kenshin anymore," Ichiro declared proudly. "And I'm gonna go give him a hug." Akita-sama smiled.
"Good for you!" he replied sincerely. Ichiro smiled back and rushed off. In his excitement he forgot the notebook. Akita-sama looked down at it and read the cover. "Death note?" he wondered aloud. "So this is how kids get their entertainment these days. Shows just how well we're raising them." With a sigh he tucked it into his pocket to return to Ichiro later.
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Raito shook his head. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. He had specifically chosen an angry, malleable-minded boy, but now the Death Note was in the hands of some crazy old man who would die soon anyway. This wasn't at all how it was supposed to work. But it could still be entertaining. Raito followed the man, careful not to be seen
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Ichiro ran up the stairs to the large toy room, where his mother was holding a gloomy Kenshin. The Robot Model AX23007 lay discarded nearby. Kenshin perked up the moment he saw Ichiro, and raced to hug his brother. Ichiro smiled and hugged him back.
"I'm sorry," Kenshiin said.
"Me too," Ichiro replied. He was happy. He couldn't believe that a few minutes ago he had wanted to rid himself of his little brother.