Paper. Pen. Clock.
The perfect tools to grade a paper within designated time limits.
It is also a good way to conduct a science experiment.
Back when Kunikida was still a student, he was not only praised for his mathematical prowess, but also his scientific endeavors. His experiments were well thought out and planned to the letter. His documentation of his experiments were written with the thoroughness of a drill sergeant training new recruits. If lab partners were allowed, he was long sought after.
Today, however, he will be conducting this experiment solo.
"Doppo!" A voice sang out merrily. "My goodness! You've kept poor little old me waiting."
Kunikida feels his jaw clench as he tries to steady the nervousness in his gut; the random twitches of his pale, knobby fingers make him even more uncomfortable. What was worse, though, was that this monster was using his personal name. A nasty retort is building up in his throat, but it dies before Kunikida could clearly voice it.
Kunikida does not want to die before his time, thank you very much.
"Silent treatment?" There's a smug little smile of satisfaction on that monster's face, Kunikida knows it. Whatever, he doesn't want to pay him anymore mind.
The math teacher fingers the paper that rests within the Death Note's sturdy cover. The feeling is simultaneously both familiar and foreboding. With a shock, Kunikida wonders if there were no rules within the notebook, if this were just any other book that someone just happened to drop, would he have considered using it as one of his journals? Probably not; black isn't his color and the pages don't have that crispness that he desires. Regardless, he shakes his head free from those thoughts.
Kunikida heaves another sigh and opens the notebook to a blank page—a furrow in his brow.
"So...I just take a name, anyone who is still alive and I can kill them?" Kunikida whispers, more to himself than to his surprise visitor.
However, Dazai swoops in like he has all the invitation in the world.
He floats behind Kunikida and whispers slyly in his ear—careful to draw a few strands of hair away from the blond's right cheek to give the right effect.
"You're the one with the world's most subtle weapon—you tell me. I never read the rules, to be honest. It's such a hassle."
Kunikida shivers from the unwanted contact, but he offers no other display of emotion.
Instead, he uncaps his pen and sets to work.
Inwardly, the Shinigami laughs.