*AN Odd use of pronouns here. Don't worry. It is intentional and will soon cease.
Transition
Again the first thing he became aware of was his heartbeat. Has it always felt like this, am I just noticing it because it was gone? But no, he was fairly certain something was different. Heartbeats never used to feel like pumping frozen poison thru his body. And he was damn sure he'd never had to make the decision to start breathing every time he woke up. That was going to get old fast.
He did it tho (with no unexpected difficulty this time, thankfully) and slowly pulled himself up on one arm. Taking his first full look around the Shinigami Realm, he was less than impressed. It looked like the bastard child of a nuclear ground zero and a desert, with the atmosphere of a haunted cemetery thrown in for that special something. Derelict buildings dotted the landscape at odd intervals, with what looked like the archeological remains of a hundred dead civilizations mixed up and tossed around at random. It just added to the overall charm of the place that there didn't seem to be a dash of color in sight. The whole panorama was painted in a bleak monochromatic grey that he immediately found repulsive.
If this is what the Shinigami Realm looks like, I don't blame Ryuk a second for trying to find something to lighten the mood.
Ryuk. That random Shinigami that had harassed him before. That's right. If this is the Shinigami world, then somewhere around here, there are Shinigami. He laughed suddenly at his next thought; Well, other Shinigami anyway.
"Now what's so damned funny that ye'd be waking me up? Ah, it's yeh. Ye'r awake, and for good this time it looks." The Shinigami from before. It had been napping on the overhanging ledge above. Watching me…for what?
Deciding that he'd let this thing have the upper hand for too long, he shoved himself to his feet and turned to face it. "Yeah, awake. To the ugliest sunrise I've ever seen."
After truly taking in the appearance of his watcher, he felt the last comment was entirely justified. The thing looked vaguely like a human tribal chieftain…if you could ignore the exposed muscle and bone that formed its body. The eye also had trouble glossing over the evil-looking black hook that it sported for a left hand. And let us not forget the gaping eye-like hole sitting pretty in the middle of its chest. Yep, no doubt about it: This thing was ugly given form. He made these observations in the split second that it took him to flip his nose up in the air at it arrogantly.
It looked shocked at his audacity for a second before bursting out with that infernal cackle again. "Ah, ye'r an arrogant little shit for one that's just now got had by a brat."
Seeing that this had the hoped for effect of making him bristle, the Shinigami continued, "And I don't right see where yeh get off calling me ugly either. Had a look at yerself yet, have yeh?"
He flinched a bit at that. Come to think of it, hadn't it mentioned something about a Shinigami body earlier? And obviously these guys couldn't have been born that ugly if they used to be human too. With some trepidation, he looked around for something reflective. Seeing the pale light shining off a puddle of something a few feet over, he made his way to it.
He refused to look down at the parts of himself he could see as he walked. He wanted to see the worst of it first. What the hell does my face look like? He wondered. He heard the Shinigami drop off the ledge and follow. Of course, come right along. He thought venomously.
At the edge, he steeled himself for what he would see looking back. He had always prided himself on his looks, and it pained him more than he cared to admit to think that he might look like that…thing…now. Hell, he didn't even want to look like Ryuk, tho that would be slightly easier to deal with. Oh well, no way to change it now. Deep breath and…
It wasn't as bad as he had feared. Sure he wasn't exactly pretty, but he wasn't hideous either. He was still wearing the suit he had died in, tho it was a bit worse for the wear now (So much for the ridiculous amount I paid for tailoring). His face was essentially a skeletal visage with a bit extra added, apparently to allow movement, and he now allowed himself to glance down and verify that his hands matched. The most annoying part was his hair. Somebody had a sick sense of humor. It was thrown back in a gravity defying style that made him look like one of those ridiculous anime characters. He gave it a few fruitless tugs before deciding it was a hopeless case.
The Shinigami behind him waited while he examined himself before resuming the conversation. "Ah, yeh don't seem like yeh mind it that much" It sounded terribly disappointed.
He laughed and replied, "You had me worried. There I was thinking I was going to look like one of your relatives, but next to you I'm absolutely adorable."
"Ah. How yeh look as a Shinigami is determined by what ye'r like inside. Ryuk is a joker so he looks like a damn clown. Rem was tricky and cunning so she looked like nothing as much as an overgrown snake. Yeh…what does that make yeh look like?"
He looked again, pensively this time. "How familiar with Western mythology are you?"
"Ah, I think I remember something from a couple millenniums ago. Why?"
"There is one myth in particular that I was always fond of. They call it the Grim Reaper, or simply Death. It's a tall, skeletal figure dressed in black. His job is to harvest the souls of the dead with his giant scythe. He is one of the most feared and respected figures in history."
"Ah, I think I remember seeing something like that when the humans were dealing with that plague thing. So yeh think ye'r Death then do yeh?" Another abrupt cackle. "Well ain't yeh Mister High-and-Mighty then. Just remember this kid, yeh may have made one hell of an intimidating human, but here yer just another Shinigami, and the new one besides. Some of us won't take too well to yeh lip."
Noticing that he had gotten up and walked away while it was talking, the Shinigami yelled out after him, "Hey! Where yeh goin'?"
"To find a scythe," He called back over his shoulder.
The reverberating sound of cackling followed him for miles.
