Hello everyone, I'm happy to present my very first fanfiction (that I've actually posted on this site that is...).

I'm a major Death Note fan. I haven't missed an episode since they first aired the show on Adult Swim. You will probably notice that my story starts out somewhat similar to the actual show. But that changes later on believe me. The second I saw the very first episode of Death Note I knew I was going to have some fun making lots of twists and turns in the storyline in my own fanfiction. So do not flame me...

Disclaimer: Yes, I own Death Note. As I do every other anime ever created... Just kidding! Calm down now, I do not own any anime okay! Especially not Death Note...

Chapter 1:

Perpetual Solitude

On a rock was where the creature sat. A rock just as cold, lifeless, and overlooked as he was. The only thing that reminded him that he was a living breathing creature were his thoughts. But even those began to slowly die as there was nothing left in the depths of his bleak soul to contemplate other than his own boredom. He sat in an odd position that only he could manage due to his long lanky frame. The dusty breeze blew gently, taking the beast's wings swaying in the direction of its path. His head hung low as he stared intensely at the ground, looking as if he was pondering something deep but in reality his mind was as much of a desolate wasteland as that of the land his kind "lived" on. His actual lack of mental activity could never be realized by the others though, since what was going on in his head could never be successfully portrayed through his face. It looked like he was some sort of demonic clown that someone had used permanent paint to make an outline of a smile around his lips. To make it so no matter what emotion he was trying to express he appeared not only content but overjoyed. He grinded his sharp pointy teeth together, just to make some sort of noise to break the silence, to break the restlessness that was slowly eating away at him from the inside so only he was aware of it.

This was a lifestyle that could only be lived by a Shinigami. Any other living thing would find some way to put itself out of its misery. But since Shinigami weren't really alive but not dead either, they proved to be stronger in aspects most others are weak in. Especially when it came to not having a purpose. They all sat motionless, some of them appearing to be dead and therefore being envied by the others for they too wanted freedom. Immortality was not as glamorous as fairy tales made it seem. In those stories, the writers left out one very important detail; insanity is fueled by time. And though the Shinigami wanted to die and finally be at peace, time moved forward, dragging them along with it. They lived in solitude. In this never ending world of flat terrain with cracked dry ground smothered with the stench of death. Lines of Shinigami as far as the eye could see just sitting there, as the thin line of their own sanity was on the verge of snapping. One of them occasionally bursting out into a restless impelled rampage, while others practically prayed to a god they knew wasn't there for their own death, as life was now what humans would consider "hell." Some of them played odd games with bones torn from their own bodies or left behind from diseased creatures. Stupid pointless games with no rules which only had one purpose and that was to keep the Shinigami busy from killing each other out of sheer boredom induced insanity. Each Shinigami were different in appearance, but they all shared one physical feature: their eyes. Not literally of course. They all had different shapes and sizes and colors. It was the look deep inside the eye where what was left of their false hope lied just trying to escape and make itself not only noticed but acknowledged. That dull listless look of utter pain and suffering that no one ever made any effort to fight since it had already been accepted as an inevitability. The Shinigami were supposed to be feared creatures, but as the beast sitting far off on the rock looked over his shoulder at those he would rot with for all eternity, he felt nothing but pure pity. Pity not only for them but for the Shinigami name. He felt shame as well, his kind were supposed to shower those below with utter dismay. The humans. To them Shinigami were just like ghosts; not enough evidence to prove they were real, or mere myths. They were the question that rested in the depths of every human's mind. The question that had no answer except for the few who already knew it.

Ryuk was what they called him, the one on the rock who isolated himself from the others, not wanting to accept the fact that those 'things' were all he had in terms of comrades. He was one of the few Shinigami whose moral fiber was still somewhat intact. The only one who had sat and witnessed as those among him went mad and knew that time had assigned him the same fate scheduled for him on an unknown date. The newest addition to the Realm of the Shinigami. Ryuk's large yellow eyes, still bright and monstrous like Shinigamis were supposed to be, stared aimlessly at the ground in front of him as his head hung low. His body limp from lack of movement. His internal system itself seemed to slow as it too, just as his mind, was beginning to see no purpose in living on, and began shutdown.

A large black beetle-like bug crawled nearby, heading for the rock Ryuk had already claimed as his seat. The Shinigami stared at it intensely. Killing was what Shinigami did, they were gods of death. So why weren't they doing anything? Surely there must be something better to do other than wallowing in their own oppression... Ryuk slammed his fist into the bug the second it was in arms reach, sending bits of severed remains in all directions. For a split second, Ryuk felt the long overdue thrill of killing flow through his emotion deprived body so quickly that he didn't even have time to feel it until after it had passed. He let out a deep jerky sigh.

'Never has death looked so appealing...'

There was a quick cracking sound as Ryuk straightened from his hunched position, his back screaming with protest since after hours it had become accustomed to the oddly slumped position the Shinigami had been in. Ryuk tilted his head back and stared into the dark oblivion above his head. Just as most things in the Shinigamis' lives, the sky itself was an illusion. What looked like moisture filled clouds were nothing but piles of dust covering every inch of sky. No light, no water, the land was nothing but dry heaps of nothing, just like the Shinigami who inhabited it. The air was so scorchingly dry it couldn't enter someone's body through a deep inhale. Instead you had to take short quick breathes. Almost like a dog panting. Yes that's what this land was full of, a bunch of sick, stray, emaciated dogs, all panting in harmony. All dumped in this desolate wasteland to die in life and live in death.

((Flashback))

Ryuk stood at the edge of the Realm of the Shinigami, a clear view of the planet claimed by humans below him. His eyes swathed in desire, desire to soar down to that world and refresh his memory of the land he once roamed long ago, desire to have a front row seat to the humans reaction when they found his ultimate weapon lying there on the ground looking oh so ordinary its finder couldn't possibly predict it would be the key to their own demise. Ryuk, too bent on finding a cure for his own apathy, didn't even consider that long ago it was that same weapon that consumed him until nothing was left other than his own unquenchable thirst for death and power. Not even realizing that he was about to become the very thing he had cursed that day when he was a human on the verge of death, the Shinigami who had dropped the notebook for the same reason he was about to standing nearby, laughing. Ryuk had stared at the Shinigami, his vision blurring in and out as he felt his own blood rising up his throat and oozing out of the corner of his mouth as he lay nearly lifeless on the cold ground saturated with his own internal fluids. Though red and blue lights flashed and sirens blazed, rustling of footsteps and loud cautious voices echoed, and clicks of guns being cocked all surrounded him, his mind had drowned them out so the one sound he died to was that Shinigami laughing... Now, god knows how many years later, Ryuk stood with his arm outstretched, the notebook dangling from the loose grip of his fingers. His own barely distinguishable amount of conscience the only thing holding him back from destroying the life of an innocent unsuspecting human.

'Humans... We are supposed to be superior to them, but without them there would be no solution to our boredom. They are relied on to bring feeling back to creatures such as me who have forgotten what feeling is...'

It was that type of thing, Ryuk concluded, that you just had to do without thinking. That type of thing you knew you had to do but couldn't for various reasons. That type of thing you just had to do, then after it was done your conscience screamed at you even though every fiber of your being knew there was nothing left to do but go along with it. Ryuk's fingers opened, at the moment his mind was most blank, allowing the notebook to fall. His golden bulgy eyes watched as it fell further and further away until it was nothing but a black dot among a never ending sea of blue, brown, green, and white. The colors of that planet the Shinigami loathed but depended on to keep themselves entertained. Every inch closer the wretched thing fell to Earth, Ryuk's guilt began to subside as his smile widened. Now, from the perspective of a Shinigami and not a human, Ryuk couldn't feel more satisfied with himself, and he did what seemed to suit that moment best - he began to laugh. A sharp maniacal laugh that echoed throughout the vast land in which he stood and ringed in the other Shinigamis' ears as they scowled at him from afar. Step one had been accomplished. Next, he'd go to the human world, and see who fell victim to the power of the oh so innocent looking notebook of death.

'All I have to do now... Is wait...'

((End of flashback))

Though the possibility of the Shinigami actually existing had haunted humans for centuries, the beasts were failing miserably in keeping humans questioning their existence. The Shinigami had watched over hundreds of years, as the humans evolved, became smarter, invented new weapons and other things made for the benefit of their own kind or more importantly for the personal gain of one specific individual. The selfishness and materialism growing among the species until they eventually didn't look past the scope of their own reality, too engrossed in their own wants to look past what was in front of them and maybe consider there was more out there other than what they've already seen. Humans didn't need to worry about Shinigami anymore, all they had left to fear was themselves. The ambition of humans had escalated so drastically over the many years that they were nearly on the same level of wickedness as the Shinigami. But humans weren't as strong as they led on. Without their weapons, knowledge, and cunning, they'd be just as helpless and lost as they where when they took their very first steps on planet Earth. They were all like a herd of sheep, willing to follow anyone strong enough to guide them. Their gullibility disgusted the Shinigami, who now put the duty upon themselves of returning to that world and giving humans something to fear other than their own kind. No matter what the humans did, no matter what they invented, no matter what new death machines may be created in the future, nothing could compete with the notebook each Shinigami possessed. Some of them rocked back and forth, chuckling insanely to them selves, holding the notebook hard against their chest as if it were all they lived for...the only thing that made their pathetic selves superior to those below. The one weapon that could lure any living creature under its spell. The one thing that the Shinigami worshiped even though it was that notebook they held so dear that had stripped them of all humanity and destroyed their lives by taking death from them, and then sending them all to the same place where there was nothing for them to do other than speak of their pasts and how temptation had got the better of them. They used the notebooks' power to its full extent, resulting in them being sent there, where it looked as if they lived but each day they emotionally died just a little more... each of them holding their notebooks close to their barely beating hearts.

Ryuk watched the dust above him. His organs squirming like a sea of eels as he felt mind-numbingly empty. He had waited long enough. He rose from his seat and walked through the landscape of death and suffering, making sure not to look into the eyes of the Shinigami he crossed paths with. Not wanting to deal with their envious glares because he had actually done what they couldn't - opening his fingers and letting it fall. Ryuk approached the edge, his large black wings emerging and flowing behind him, the wind working against him as if even it disapproved of his leaving. Ryuk looked over his shoulder, taking one last glance at the world he was hoping not to return to for quite some time. The sight he wished could be permanently erased from his memory. Each Shinigami within sight seemed to be looking at him, or purposely ignoring him, an aura of misery clouding around them that they didn't seem to have enough internal strength to rupture. Ryuk's wings extended out, as he prepared to make the leap to freedom, one thought following him down:

'This world... Is rotting.'