I stared out at what used to be the Floarama meadows. The blazing fields filled my line of vision, miles of burning flowers. The skies were a dark black, illuminated into a light red for a short distance by the thick blaze. No more blossom on the trees. Slowly puffing down, the fire shrunk until it was only a few burning embers. The meadows were no longer a blitz of reds, blues, greens, pinks and other rainbow colours. Just black ash.

No more pokemon. Just tattered, bloody, charred corpses, the remains of cherrim, munchlax, combee, lying in the ashes and burnt wood. Bloodied, broken and burnt. Dead flowers, stumps of trees, like a twisted, broken rainbow. Bones and embers lying around, stones and stumps... like the shinigami realm.

"Raven." I growled. I felt the blood smeared on my neck, and sucked up a little blood I had dribbling down my chin. Wiping my bleeding nose, I fixed the collar of my black and red tux. Raven... that pesky shinigami was here somewhere. I could smell it. Mischief and sadism. That's what a shinigami like Raven smells like. I couldn't bear to see the wasteland any more. Too dark. Too blank. Too much like the shinigami realm. I told Raven to stay in Tokyo, only kill the worst of the worst when he really needed to, and I'd come get him. But you can't tie a shinigami like him down.

I left the meadows then and there. Floarama town looked different too. The bustling little town, full of life and nature, was now in the same state as the meadows. Ashy and gory carcasses all over. Burnt down buildings. Old smouldering embers. Smoke filled skies, lit dimly enough to see by a few puckering flames. No sign of humanity. Pokemon. Life.

"Matsuda." I said, but loud. No response to his name. Just silence.

"Matsuda. You're an idiot."

Still no response.

"Shaun. Chess-nut. Pawniard kid."

Usually I hated to see that nerd. I hated to see his silver, red and grey stripy hair, how he looked like a pawniard, his stupid, ridiculous yellow shades. But now I needed him. I needed him, no matter if he always spoke in chess-talk. I took in a deep breath, feeling the scrap of Death-Note paper I kept in the fold of my pokegear.

"Shaun?" I screamed. "Matsuda? I'll... even settle for Sachin?"

Sachin... his name was horrible. He took my great opportunity to be known, to have my name and face known throughout the land. Took it from me, for himself. And he was only ten at the time. I never forgave him. But when you need a shoulder to hold in front of you like a meat-shield, that tan little runt is never a bad guy to be stuck with.

No sound came from the rubble.

There was only one undamaged building. The daycare centre. Burnt, a little ashy, but still intact. Slowly, I pushed the door open. Creaking, scratching, I entered the room. And saw a face. It looked unfamiliar for a while, before I caught his red eyes. His piercing eyes, his mocking smile. And the scent of mischief. Tattered old Death-Note hanging loosely from a messily punched hole, linked by a piece of blue wool.

Raven.

"Raven. You did some crazy stuff before, but this..?" I hissed at him. He only tilted his head, not moving from his awkward position atop the counter. In the darkness, all that could be seen was his faint outline. And his innards. Ribs, spine, the bloody gash of his mouth and eyes, a slash where his pancreas should be. He shook his head, and as he looked up, I saw a drip of blood slip down his face. Crying?

"What the hell happened?" I asked, trying to touch his face. Blood smeared off on my hands. He dug his nails into my cheek, drawing blood, I jumped back and twisted his arm. It stuck in an unnatural position for a short while, before shrinking back to its normal shape. Raven's head tilted. It sickened me to see it at such an inhuman angle. But he was a god of death. And he was smiling.

"Why, Rave?" I murmured. "You killed... how many innocents?"

Raven stared at me with giant eyes. "Raven must kill to live. The unknown one made it so."

"Who is the unknown one?"

"The unknown one is not someone Raven speaks of," he spat adamantly. "And not one Ghidora should want to be knowing of."

"Raven, tell me, what the hell happened?" I barked, lunging forwards at him. He was grinning.

"Where are they?"

Smile smile.

"What did y- it do to them?"

Grin grin, smirk smirk.

I sighed. Hopeless. "Will I ever see those goof-bags again?"

...

"Can I ever leave?"

…

"Will they be allright?"

...

"Are they ever coming back?"

…

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."