Tasteless Apples

It's over. After six years of fun, Ryuk's vacation is over. It had ended the moment Light's heart stopped beating; or maybe it ended even earlier, when the trap was sprung and Kira's identity was revealed. Now his body lies on the stairs where he fell, close to the top but not quite there. His name stands alone, decorating an unfilled page in Ryuk's Death Note, the ink not yet dry.

The Shinigami sighs and shrugs. He always knew it had to end, and now it has. That's all there is to it, and it's nothing worth moping about. He flaps his wings and flies into the darkening sky.

He's going home.

Soon after his return, Ryuk partakes in a game of cards. He agrees at once when Deridovely offers because he would have agreed in the past. It's what you do, what everybody does, to pass the time. He plays for hours. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses, but he quickly notices that something is wrong – or, rather, that something is missing.

It hadn't always been like this. He had spent many years doing almost nothing but gambling. He used to get completely immersed in it. He remembers the pure enjoyment a decent game could bring him. He had felt it many times in the past.

Now…it's completely gone. Now gambling leaves him entirely indifferent. It leaves him without mental stimulation.

It leaves him empty.

It feels as though all the joy has been sucked out of this once-pleasant activity. Before the time he spent in the human world he had also been bored with it, but that didn't even come close to what he feels now.

It takes him a ridiculously long time to figure out why.

The first apple Ryuk gets his hands on is, to put it simply, nasty—and it shocks him, even though it shouldn't. He should know better than anyone what to expect. He should be more than used to the taste – or lack thereof – and yet he is not. Not anymore.

He takes a generous bite, and spits it all out with a curse. His permanent grin warps into a grimace. It's dry, so completely dry and bitter, and he realizes with some surprise that he had forgotten. Throughout his years in the human world, his taste buds had forgotten the difference between apples from his realm and apples from the human one. He'd grown so used to the sweet and sour taste, and to the juiciness of the fruit, and it had taken only a few short years. A few short years that should be nothing more than a meaningless blur to a Shinigami.

Why are they anything but?

Before he dropped Sidoh's Death Note into the human world, he had grown bored. Bored enough to consider a change in scenery. He'd thought it was about time to catch a break. He had wanted to experience something different, to observe humans brew all of this deliciously entertaining mess they call Earth, to have as much fun as he could, and when it was all over, to go back home. It had been the plan from the start. Whoever became the owner of the Death Note would eventually have to die. No matter how much fun it had been while it lasted, it simply had to end.

Ryuk realizes now that he had never truly thought about the after part.

He'd never truly considered what he would do with his time when Light will no longer be there to entertain him.

He tries to become interested again, of course. He gambles every bit as often as the others. He tries—he tries so hard to find his old thrill again. He squeezes (fake, always fake) laughter out of his permanently grinning mouth. He cheers his own (meaningless) victories. He repeats the pattern, hoping to learn to enjoy it like he used to. He repeats it day in, day out, until he just doesn't have it in him to try any longer, so when Zellogi asks: "Care to play with us, Ryuk?" his answer is:

"Nah. Thanks." Dejected, apathetic, and with a sense of what humans call a deja vu.

Zellogi gawks in surprise, Daril shrugs, Gook makes a first move, the game is on, and Ryuk doesn't stay to watch. And why should he? He had witnessed the most cunning, brilliant creatures he's ever met play the games where everything was at stake – their plans, their survival, and the shape of the world to come. Games far more sophisticated, dangerous, and exciting than anything the Shinigami world has to offer.

He had watched Light Yagami's amazing plots in the making and in realization. He had a front row seat! He was there when Light explained to him how it would all work, and what could happen if it didn't. Light had planned, strategized, and prepared for every eventuality, but he knew he was walking a fine line. He had always done whatever he could to minimize the risk, but the risk was still there. When Light Yagami played against L, he had known damn well that even the slightest mistake could cost him his life. Light Yagami's games had always been for the highest stakes. All or nothing.

What is it that Daril, Zellogi and Gook have to lose or gain—some old skulls?

Ryuk spends some time sitting on a rock, staring off into the distance. He could go on like this, or he could go back to gambling after all. Between the two, he doesn't see much of a difference anymore.

It was nothing like that when he came back here last time. It was when Light Yagami willingly placed himself in confinement - on his worst enemy's flimsy mercy no less, and without his memories. Ryuk stayed glued to the viewing pool the entire time, not wanting to miss a single part of the spectacle. He never lost an interest. He watched the genius plot progress (exactly as planned) and he dove into the human world bursting with uncontrollable joyful giggle as soon as Misa Amane dug out the notebook.

He had waited impatiently for that to happen, so that he could finally return. He waited for it like he would wait for Light to buy him a new basket of apples. He waited giddily, and with ever-present excitement. On occasion he'd been slightly annoyed with it taking so long because he had wanted, wanted so much, to be closer to the action.

But all the while, he had never truly been bored. He longs to feel that way again. He thinks he knows what he has to do to make it happen.

Sidoh doesn't understand. He's relieved to be back and doesn't even want to think about his stay in that noisy, crowded other world. He doesn't miss anything about it except for the chocolate. He had learned something though. Now he keeps his notebook properly strapped to his belt; too properly for some other guy to snatch it away unnoticed.

That's why Ryuk uses the first opportunity to steal Deridovely's.

Ryuk's new human refuses to use the Death Note. First, he has a huge panic attack at the sight of the Shinigami. Then he cries in the corner, mumbling incoherent pleas and shrieking in fear for at least fifteen minutes. (Ryuk is reminded of Light – Light, who had also fallen off his chair with a scream, but who had immediately picked himself back up. And then he'd smiled confidently and shown Ryuk pages full of names, and Ryuk had gotten a preview of the wonderful entertainment he was about to get.)

Any attempts to reason with the crying mess fail. He whimpers and squeals, and only after he gets over himself does Ryuk explain the basics to him. After that the human says he absolutely won't use the Death Note. And no, he won't give it to someone else because any person he gives it to could misuse it – which, in his eyes, means using it at all. (Light had filled pages. Name after name, victim after victim, eyes alight with passion unlike anything Ryuk had seen in his world.)

"I'll keep it," he says determinedly. "I'll keep it hidden in my house, and make sure nobody else will ever find it. Ever."

Ryuk sighs. "Just as long as you feed me apples."

The new human does. That much he's good for, at least, as sanctimoniously tedious as he is. Overall, it's not that bad. Ryuk still gets to watch TV in his house (and he had sure missed all those cooking shows), hang around while he's at work (desk job, snore), and gorge on all the delicious apples.

The human's resolution to never write a name in the Death Note lasts for about two months. During these two months there are many comments about his boss ("He's such an ass, let me tell you, Ryuk"), that one guy who gets promoted before him ("He does way less, honest! Besides, if he just weren't here, I'd be the one. And the pay is higher, my wife would be happy..."), and overall how things were way better and the streets way safer when Kira was around ("Not that I'd do what he did! Just saying"). As time goes by, these kinds of comments happen more and more often, as do the surreptitious looks at his closet. (The one where he keeps the notebook, of course.)

And Ryuk laughs with glee because it's finally going to be fun again, and congratulates the human when he writes the first name – that of his boss. Then he gets tedious again, as he mopes and grieves and complains and cries. And then he gives the notebook back with shaking hands and a tear-streaked face.

"I thought I could do it, protect the world from this terrible thing, but I can't. Take it! Take my memories. I don't want to remember any of it!"

Ryuk obliges without putting up an argument. This one was a bore. He'll find another one. Maybe he won't reveal himself from the start this time, just so he can watch them experiment on their own.

Light had told Ryuk how he tested the notebook. Cautiously, he had picked two victims that couldn't be connected to him. He had enough time to get over his (short) crisis of conscience and decide what he wanted to do before he met Ryuk.

Maybe giving the human that extra time is a good idea.

The second human doesn't treat the Death Note seriously. He picks it up and laughs at the rules inside, but he keeps it anyway. Then he shows it to some of his friends at work, wanting them to see just what kind of crazy jokes people can come up with. Then he amuses himself writing several elaborate (funny and slapsticky – as he puts it) accidents for the aforementioned friends inside, and Ryuk gets a few chuckles out of it. Maybe this one has promise? Later, after the man finds out they died exactly as he specified, he freaks out.

"You're a monster!" he screams, running from Ryuk and causing other humans to turn their heads and stare; and stare they do, with surprised comments. "Leave me alone!"

"No can do! You've got my notebook."

The human doesn't stop screaming. He looks back at Ryuk, speeds up, steps off the sidewalk...

"Sweetie, don't look." Some passerby covers his child's eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Oh, my! Did you see that?" Another one points at the corpse. "He just ran under that car."

"Mommy, is this a brain?"

"Someone call an ambulance!"

Ryuk sighs. Maybe the third time's the charm.

The next one really is an improvement. Her company – as she starts to call it as soon as she begins to believe in the notebook's power – could do without several employees higher in the chain than she is. She remedies that with accidents and illnesses, but rarely a heart attack. She's a clever one, and doesn't bemoan each of her murders afterwards. She just keeps it up without making a big deal out of killing. And she can afford a great many apples. Ryuk soon starts to think he might have hit a jackpot with her.

Until she's done, that is.

With all of those who had stood in her way dead and buried, she has no need to use the Death Note anymore. She's exactly where she wants to be – in the director's chair. Her career is better than ever, and her company flourishes and grows stronger without further killings. She might be better suited for this than most, but she's no Light. She has no long-term plans that would require a weapon of mass destruction. She was never in it for the heck of it, and now that she's reached her goals, she's finished with the notebook.

And Ryuk is bored again.

She notices quickly, and acts accordingly. After removing her handwriting and fingerprints, she simply leaves the Death Note on a park bench for someone else to find and entertain the Death God in her stead. Just like that. No anguish, no scruples, no doubts. She's almost what Ryuk is looking for. Almost. Just something, that precious something, is missing. He's still hopeful he'll find it again. There are billions of humans to pick from. How hard can it be?

Quite hard indeed, as it turns out. The fourth one starts off well. In fact, he's quite similar to the previous one—a businessman with an appetite for promotion and quite a list of targets to eliminate. He doesn't lack the funds for certain juicy fruits as well. He kills quite boldly. He goes up, removing the most important figures from the rival companies, but he lacks the smarts of his predecessor. Where she had been cautious with planning the deaths, he often gets careless. He doesn't put much thought into the details, and slips up more than once. Slipping, in this case, means his victims – the people whose deaths he and his company benefit from – die of heart attacks a little too often and too regularly.

In the world before Kira, this wouldn't be a problem. In the world after Kira it's a different story. His actions provoke unwanted attention. Unwanted to Ryuk's human, that is. Ryuk himself is positively giddy. Oh, how he misses the days when Light played his dangerous, intricate game with L and his successors. He remembers the days of hidden surveillance cameras, cleverly fooled FBI agents, brilliant manipulations, plans and counter plans. He can't wait to get the taste of it again.

He's overjoyed when the police start snooping around. He watches his human with more interest than ever before. Waiting is intoxicating, overwhelmingly sweet, and yet so torturous. He tries to anticipate what his human will do next, how he will get himself out of this trouble. He craves the show, and for a while he gets it.

His human kills the first cops that take interest in him, this time with greater care, but this move doesn't help him. He only attracts a bigger fish – Nate River, former N, current L. He has many titles, but for Ryuk he's just a pest that killed his source of fun. Nevertheless, it gets more amusing again, as the list of the suspects shrinks and the notebook's owner starts to feel cornered. Or rather, it would have been more amusing if he hadn't run out of ideas. As it is, he gets scared, panics, and gives up the notebook.

Ryuk is so painfully disappointed that he almost kills him then and there. If this man's name were Light Yagami, at this point he would only feel more challenged, more excited to keep fighting. He would dazzle Ryuk with his amazing creativity. He would act, and think, and use the potential of the Death Note to its fullest, until his opponents didn't know what to believe anymore. He would approach them in such a way that they would willingly give him their names without even realizing they're dooming themselves. He would talk and catch them in his expertly woven web of lies. They would get lost in words, in his trustworthy face, in the falsehood mixed with just the right amount of logic and common sense. That's how it would be if this human's name were Light Yagami.

But it is not, and he's not worth Ryuk's time. His lifespan is paltry anyway, and he's not even worth the effort it would take to write his name. Well... maybe later.

After he finds a replacement.

The fifth one agrees with Kira's ideas fully. After finding the Death Note, he decides to continue his idol's work.

It seems Ryuk has finally found what he's looking for. The man writes name after name, and criminals all over the world begin to die of heart attacks again. Kira is back, and the populace is whipped into frenzy over it. Some despair and rage, just as many or even more rejoice. There are programs on TV, public demonstrations, and politicians expressing their support or condemnation. This wonderful, worldwide chaos has restarted, and Ryuk is in the middle of it all. It is, to put it simply, great.

Except for the fact that this man plays it so damn safe. He never responds to any provocations (Lind L. Tailor) and never gives those after him any clue to follow (L, do you know... ). Even though Ryuk knows it could potentially lengthen his entertainment, he still misses the sheer excitement of watching Light let his pursuers get close, only to outwit them time and time again. Light, who had spoken of godhood, justice, and power, but had cared for the road as much as he did for the destination—maybe even more so. Light, who had embraced the Death Note, who had thrown himself into the adventure, but had never done so without thinking beforehand.

Still, even without all that it's still amusing to watch the world fluctuate and become more vivid, more awake, more passionate under the new Kira's pen. Crime rates drop again, humans take sides, wild theories and speculations fill the media. The Internet is overflowing with fiery debates over Kira's cause. It's certainly fun to watch.

But Ryuk, taught by experience with the previous owners, can see the signs. He knows it won't last. His newest human sleeps fitfully. More often than not he wakes up screaming. His face gains sickly pallor and dark eye bags that would make one deceased detective proud. He writes with solemn determination, but the zealous glint in his eyes is going out. He keeps pushing himself to go on, but he's no Light Yagami. He may have his convictions, but not his force of will. Nothing of the steel and heat that replaced the emptiness the moment he picked up the notebook.

Light, who went past his initial doubts, who slept like a rock, who killed thousands without a trace of the guilt that brings down his successor, and without apathy that plagues the Shinigami—Light, who is gone, and the one who took his place is but a pale imitation that doesn't hold a candle to the original.

It comes as no surprise when one day he writes his own name down.

"I'm so sorry," he weeps.

"Huh? Who are you apologizing to?" Ryuk feels mildly curious. Is he apologizing to all the people he killed (humans can be silly like that), to the world that loathes and worships and loves him, to himself (for what?), or maybe...

"I'm sorry, Kira," the human says, his eyes tired. "I thought I could continue your work, but I'm just not-"

Forty seconds is up.

Ryuk picks up the notebook and flies out of the window and into the city to find the sixth human.

He doesn't find one. Deridovely finds him first.

"You lousy thief!" He lets out a string of colorful words, and he takes his property back.

Ryuk returns to the Shinigami world again, without a spare Death Note to give. He finds it surprising how little it upsets him.

He's back, and Ennui is back, as strong and mind numbing as it had been since... since Light died. Only now, he doesn't have what he needs to attach himself to a human and use them to alleviate the boredom at least a little. That's right, a little. None of the five he followed using Deridovely's notebook had chased it away completely, unlike the first human he'd ever possessed. None of them had provided such a captivating show, such a breathtaking spectacle.

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again – and it's not how to get a new notebook. The question is: why? Why is it so hard to find a human as entertaining as Light? Why is their time with the Death Note so much less eventful than his was? Why are they so... lacking?

He chases these thoughts away, or tries to, anyway. He's determined to recreate the experience. He won't stop. He'll get another notebook, he'll drop it, and maybe this time the human who picks it up will be more up to the task.

"He just can't get over the fact that his human kicked it," Kinddara scoffs and picks a card. "He needs to give it a rest."

"I kinda understand him," Calikarcha replies, his tone wistful. "This Light Yagami was all the rage here. Those numbers he kept pulling off were a real riot."

"Even so, it's beneath us to get so worked up over humans."

"You say that now." He chuckles knowingly. "Back then you didn't get into it at first too. You said something about our pride as Shinigami, remember? But that was only before you started watching with us, and when you did, you were totally hooked! You loved it, and you know it."

"Oh, stop," Kinddara snaps irritably, averting her eyes in embarrassment, "You're gonna get as bad as him."

Annoyed with that subject, she focuses on the game so much she doesn't even notice when her notebook is taken.

The first one uses the Death Note to kill his ex-wife, her lover, and then himself. His ownership lasts for about two weeks.

Number two fears its killing power, gives monologues about how dangerous it is, and swears never to use it. Then after a while come the complaints about: "Those damn politicians! They really bring this country down," and the human changes his mind.

"I'll do away with some of those spineless bastards," (from whichever party he hates), "and do everyone a favor."

Proud of his deed, he proceeds to use the notebook in a braver and ultimately dumber manner. He removes a few personal annoyances, as he calls them. After his daughter's boyfriend ("He didn't deserve her. He was bad news!") dies, followed by a few neighbors he isn't overly fond of ("Those damn immigrants, taking our jobs like that!"), the human starts to worry that someone might suspect. Then he mulls over it for so long he (surprise, surprise) gets scared and gives the notebook back. Ryuk doesn't even bother pointing out that there is absolutely no evidence that could lead the cops to him. He just takes it back.

The third one cowers in terror, cries, doesn't calm down, and throws the notebook back at Ryuk. On the plus side, his lifespan is top notch.

The fourth one is already a killer, part of a mob, who uses Ryuk's gift to covertly get rid of her rivals and bosses – she doesn't go through the phase of claiming she'll never use it, which is a welcome change. Then, having climbed higher up the ladder, she gains confidence and the number of her kills grows rapidly. She goes after the members of other crime syndicates, cops and journalists who refuse to take bribes, and whoever she thinks she should off to improve her business. For a while there is action and fun and Ryuk is almost pleased, but of course, he already knows what's coming. The human is painfully obvious in what she's doing. She reaches too far, becomes too reckless, too noticeable, and though nothing can be proven, Nate River, who knows what to look for, detects a pattern and comes after her.

She's reluctant to part with her favorite weapon, so she keeps using it liberally. She fights the newest L and loses without being much of a challenge for her opponent. When she's cornered, she asks Ryuk to kill her. He takes the notebook from her cooling fingers right before the police squad barges in.

The fifth one makes long, proud, (boring) speeches about how he'll never, ever use this monstrous, horrible blah, blah, blah, blah.

He actually keeps his word, for a change. He hides the notebook, and quickly becomes insufferably smug about how heroic he is for not making any use of it. He grows more and more pleased with himself, as if he is achieving something by his inaction. He also starts to like being mistreated by his fellow humans. He gets bullied at school (sometimes he intentionally provokes the bullies into attacking him), and he delightedly admires his every bruise and cut. Humans, Ryuk thinks, can be strange creatures indeed.

"I'm strong," he brags. "I didn't fall under the allure of power. I resisted."

So he continues taking hits, welcoming harm with a smile, knowing he could easily take revenge and getting off on not doing it. It's a laugh for a moment, until it gets old.

The sixth one is convinced Ryuk is only a hallucination, and nothing can convince her she's wrong until she tries out the notebook. After finding out (and acknowledging) it really works, she starts to cry, cry some more, blame Ryuk, and blame herself. It takes days for her to calm down, days Ryuk spends consuming all the apples in her house and watching TV. Then she starts to think, starts to see the possibilities. There are doubts at first, as with most of them, but then she hesitantly starts to write. She selects rich victims, and kills them in such a way that she soon becomes significantly richer herself (which means more apples).

Of course, she starts to mope again eventually, until she finally does what Ryuk expects.

"I committed murders, I'm a horrible person! I don't want to remember. Please, take it away."

He does. Her memories go away, and the money stays.

Number seven is very much like her, except in the end he writes his own name down.

The eighth one goes through the obligatory panic phase when he sees Ryuk (which means a few days of wide, terrified eyes, jumping every time Ryuk says something, and stuttering incessantly). When he calms down enough to consider what he can do with a killing book, he writes down the names of several guys he can't stand. Someone from work, the one who stole his girlfriend, and a few strangers, just in case, so nobody would connect the dots. (Even though, as usual, there are no dots to connect. Human paranoia, as Ryuk discovers, is immune to common sense.)

Then, unsurprisingly, he gives the notebook back, having killed all those he loathed, and not wanting to have to put up with the scary presence always hovering behind him.

That's one thing about all of them – they're so very afraid of Ryuk. He knows it makes perfect sense, of course. He poses a threat to their continued survival. He can write their names down any time he wants. In fact, this is the sort of reaction he had expected the first time around. He expected a human who would cower and suck up to him. What he got instead was a very rare mortal creature who could look at him without fright, who was so used to Ryuk he could fall peacefully asleep every evening with him in the same room, who had the sheer guts to deny him apples, going so far as to blatantly use Ryuk's liking for them to further his own ends.

Ryuk never would have guessed that he would actually come to miss that quality.

Nine kills so recklessly and extravagantly he nearly gets himself caught in just under two weeks. With his weapon being a notebook that doesn't leave evidence or even any real clues, Ryuk has to admit it's kind of a feat. Feeling the danger, the human gives the notebook up.

Ten is another businessman. He kills to get a promotion (more than once) in place of the dead guys. Having succeeded, he gives the notebook back.

Eleven kills for the same purpose, initially at least, but ends up developing a taste for it. At some point, it stops being about business and becomes all about pleasure. The human starts to amuse himself (and Ryuk) by figuring out more and more inventive ways to kill. Fun lasts until the human remembers just how easy it would be for Ryuk to end his happy-go-lucky little life. Then, reluctantly and unhappily, he hands the Death Note back to Ryuk.

Twelve – an old cop, disgruntled with having to catch the same criminals many times over—chooses to play Kira again. His resolve breaks, and he gives the notebook back.

Thirteen has a sick husband, and needs money for the treatment. She kills richer humans, pays the doctors, makes a fuss about her kills, and returns the notebook.

Fourteen, jealous, kills rivals who weren't rivals because the girl wasn't interested to begin with. Another suicide.

Fifteen kills for money, returns the notebook.

Sixteen kills abusive parents, a neighbor who – in his own words – always looked the other way, and then himself.

Seventeen kills the wife's presumed lover, returns the notebook.

Eighteen kills three she has a grudge against. Leaves the notebook on a sidewalk for the next one.

Nineteen, promotion, kills two, kills self.

Twenty, grudges, small number of victims, gives it back.

Eventually Ryuk stops counting. They come and they go, as diverse as they could be. Some remove their personal enemies, some use their new power to get rich, some collapse under stress and give it back or kill themselves, some hog it for years just in case they'll ever need it and go on with their monotonous, repetitive, boring lives (lives that Ryuk cuts short before moving on), some return it after getting what they wanted with it (fearful of having it discovered or stolen, fearful of Ryuk), but if there is one thing they all have in common is that they all provide lackluster, inferior entertainment.

Ryuk has a feeling that if he had started off with them, not with Light Yagami, he might have been satisfied. He would laugh like crazy watching their short time as an owner. He would amuse himself by trying to guess how the next one will use the notebook. He wouldn't know how much better, how much more interesting, how much more fascinating it could be – and thus he would settle for less, unaware that there could be more. He would need less, and expect less.

But he had met Light Yagami, he had started with Light Yagami, and now he can't be satisfied with less, no matter how hard he tries; and he sure tries hard. He follows human after human. Sometimes he carefully picks them himself (trying to find the more amusing specimens), sometimes he leaves it to chance. They have varying goals and make different choices in targets, but ultimately they have one thing in common – they're just not enough. Their purposes are unimaginative, their actions predictable, their time with him painfully short, and there is always something (squeamishness, small dreams) that stops them from making it more lasting.

He doesn't resist when Kinddara comes down to get what he'd stolen from her. She punches him in the gut before he remembers to dematerialize, sending him tumbling backwards. She swears and shouts and scares the latest human out of his uninteresting mind.

This time Ryuk is completely unsurprised by his own lack of reaction.

Ryuk becomes a pariah. Other Shinigami are on their guard when he's near, looking after their Death Notes probably more carefully than they ever did before; because before it never crossed their minds that they might need to. Ryuk changed that.

He thinks he could still swipe a notebook from one of those who don't know him personally, who haven't heard all that much about his exploits, who take no interest, or who live too far away. He could try that if he really wanted to, but he doesn't. He simply doesn't. He feels no need to expand the list of humans that would only hammer down how dull they are. Their stories, their faces, their lifespans all blur into one. It strikes him that he can't even remember the names of most of them; but there is one (Light, Light, Light) he knows he will never forget. Part of him wishes he could. An even bigger part would never want that, to forget the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He imagines how great it would be if the afterlife - this hilarious concept, created by the eternally wild human imagination - actually existed, so that he could pull Light out of it to keep entertaining him. Humans like to come up with myths like that, don't they? For the first time Ryuk can understand why. For the first time there is a name in his notebook he would see erased, a lifespan he would gladly return if it would only give him Light Yagami back.

Shinigami – a well-known fact – are prone to addictions. Most gamble, some have other hobbies, other obsessions.

Ryuk always had his apples. Dry, sandy Shinigami apples, and their juicy human world counterparts. Lately, though, he feels as if all human apples have disappeared, or at the very least become ridiculously hard to find. Some look tempting at first. They fool him with their round shape and red skin, only to turn out completely tasteless as he sinks his teeth in.

Shinigami have their addictions, but what can a Shinigami do when he becomes hooked on an extinct variety? What can he do when the flavor he so relishes suddenly just disappears? It was a strong breed, to be sure. It fought hard to stay alive; it fought to the very end. It grew big and sweet and beautiful, but it is now gone. Inaccessible. Nonexistent.

And the Shinigami is left with his craving and the withdrawal symptoms stronger and more terrible than ever before.

Ryuk dreams many dreams, some about the past, some about the future that could have been. He dreams about one afternoon, slowly turning into evening; one running human, his suit bloody; and one pen-happy Shinigami. One very naive and shortsighted Shinigami, who thought he could kill some boredom and then return to it as if nothing ever happened. One Shinigami, who thought he could go back to the way things were.

He dreams about a day when the Shinigami hesitated. He dreams about the human hiding in an abandoned building, but this time the Shinigami doesn't write his name, so he doesn't collapse on the stairs. This time the human uses his remaining strength to rip the stitches in his jacket, take out a page hidden inside, and scribble the names of his foes with his blood. Then, right before he loses consciousness, the human calls an ambulance.

"No, it's not over, Ryuk," he says once he wakes up in a hospital, and he says it with a smirk, even though he's all bandaged up and one of his lungs no longer functions properly. Even though he had been so close. "I told you you'd see the creation of the new world, didn't I?"

And Ryuk laughs, because this human never ceases to amaze him; and for a while he doesn't remember he will never see this human again. He will never watch his adventures with baited breath or excited chuckle. He will never be surprised with his next unexpected moves again. For a while, he doesn't remember it.

And then he wakes up and it dawns on him. He has eternity to eat tasteless apples.

Beta: The awesome Vicious Ventriloquist.