Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own Death Note.
Summons
With an almost undetected shifting, a shinigami escaped the circle of gamblers. Escaped was the correct word, because he had been bound to the game for some time now, whilst he had yearned for, been called by…he wasn't quite sure. Not of what, not of why, not of where, not even of when it had started, for time was a fluid, changing thing within the game.
He allowed himself to be pulled (by what?) away from the group of shinigami, through the desolate emptiness (but not really empty, because he was there, and he was being summoned by something) that was his domain. His, because no one else was bothered with it. Not when there were dice to be thrown, cards to be played, a jackpot to be contributed to, won, and lost.
He flew, following the bodiless pulling. He flew on and on, but who was to say he was truly going anywhere? In this constantly changing terrain, distance was as immeasurable and unreliable as time.
Finally, he arrived. He found himself looking at a wellspring to the human world. The strange pull continued to tug at him, but it was less insistent now, and so he came to a stop. He stared into the window. Featured center stage was a dark-haired, bright-eyed girl of…He couldn't tell her age. His eyes allowed him to see only her death date and her name.
He sat down. He would watch this human, this Amane Misa, through the opening, at least until he grew bored, or until the tugging regained its commanding force.
It wasn't as if he had anything else to do.
A/N: Review.
