A man sat at a table, with twelve others. They shuffled through paper, chattering to themselves and the others around them. A few waiters shuffled in and out, bringing various treats in and empty plates and cups out. No sunlight penetrated the black walls, light coming only from the two lamps on the table, and the blue television screen behind the man.

"Alright, quiet down!" he called out, causing the room to quickly fall to silence. "Thank you. Now, I do believe we should talk about one of our greatest threats." Clicking a button on his remote, he showed a picture of what appeared to be a large skull castle. Candles poked from the sides of the building, and the building followed a color scheme of red, black, and white.

"This is Shibusen, more commonly known as the DWMA, standing for Death Weapon Meister Academy. This school was designed to help the current Lord Death to maintain peace in this world, teaching high school teenagers how to turn into weapons, and more how to wield these weapons."

"But if they execute evil," a lady with graying hair spoke, "Why are they a threat to us?"

"Good question, Agent Williams," the man acknowledged. Flipping to the next picture, it showed a tall man covered in a black, spiked robe. A ridiculous skull mask covered his face, and his hands were large, white, and square. "Lord Death is known as a threat to the United States, after a great battle in South America that killed thousands. Not to mention, he has a worst past."

"Sir," another, younger man spoke up. "Arachnaphobia was an organization we were trying to shut down ourselves.

"The man slammed his fist into the table. "You don't think I know that?" he snarled. "Look, peoples kids from around the world are in this school. And yes, many do die while attending that school."

He looked around the table.

"We will not let another child die," the man swore. "We are the CSI. And we will do our part."

He was seventeen. His hair was black.

And he was struggling to stand.

All around him was black. He stood in his black silk pajamas. The dark overpowered even the white in his hair. But his golden eyes glowed brightly.

"Where... Am I?" he asked the dark.

"Kid," a very sweet, but unfamiliar voice called out.

"Yes?" Death the Kid asked, looking around, trying to locate where the voice was coming from.

"It's probably a bad time, but," the voice said, hesitant to confess. "I like you, Kid. Just, please! Please leave with us."

"I'll be ok, I promise," he heard himself say, though his own mouth didn't move. "And you should know by now that I like you too. We're friends, right?"

And with the feeling in his chest, he wondered how he could have said that.

And then she was singing. It was a pretty voice, and soothing to Kid's ears. She sung in Japanese, and even though it was poorly pronounced, Kid understood every word. And if he recalled the song, it was Eternal Snow, by Route L. Her voice was sweet.

Sweet enough to lure him back to the depths of sleep.

Sweet enough to distract him from the sudden discolored river flowing at him at high speed.

Kid sat straight up in his bed with a gasp. He was soaking wet.

"Patty!" he yelled at the laughing girl. "How many times have I told you not to do that?"

"I didn't do anything, Kiddy-Kun," she said, trying to act innocent while holding the bucket behind her.

"Patty! Get out!" he demanded pointing towards the door.

Patty whined, dragging the bucket behind her as she closed the door.

Kid sighed. "Some days just start bad from the beginning," he said to himself, pulling himself out of the bed. "And with a dream like that, it seems almost dangerous."