Hello! At last, I've written part VI. Sorry for the wait! Please enjoy, vote and comment!
Part VI- Encounter with death
B licked his fingers and dipped his hand into the jar of jam once again, scooping up the remainder of the condiment and planting it in his watering mouth. No matter the occasion, jam was always an excellent solution to life's problems, especially when life's problems consisted of planning murder sprees and trying to find a place to sleep for the night. Sometimes he thought of how Wammy might be missing him, but he severely doubted it. Everybody around him knew he was a psychopath from the outset, even if they didn't say anything to him personally.
Over the course of three weeks, he had left Wammy's house and made his way to the centre of the city of Winchester, using the extensive amount of money he had (fraud, for a genius, was simple) to find places to sleep for the night. Lying about one's age, for a genius and a psychopath, was so minor it barely necessitated a second's thought. Hotel beds were comfortable and solitary, but the presence of so many people surrounding him felt somewhat suffocating. He couldn't practice his laughing anymore, either. But who needed to anyway, when his was that perfect?
Also, to his disgust, he would have to wait four days for his box set of limited edition Akazukin ChaCha manga books arrived.
He was a genius beyond comparison, and he was bored out of his mind. And, as the future would tell it, this was never a good thing.
As B sat cross-legged on the floor, building a complex structure with red lego, something in his periphery attracted his sharp notice. It was something small and black, falling fast from the noon sky, and it looked like it would land outside the hotel entrance. He immediately crushed his lego model with his bare foot and got to his feet. Having realised he was still in his boxers, he pulled on a black, long-sleeved t-shirt and some dark jeans, took a glance of himself in the mirror, and skipped outside to inspect this odd black object.
Upon closer inspection, it was a book. A notebook, in fact. Inscribed on the front, albeit in Latin, was the words: Death Note. He grinned his toothy grin and picked this death note up. The cover was leathery and B, being an intensely tactile person, pawed at it for a moment before opening it to see a note scrawled again in Latin, in the front cover.
The human whose name is written in this notebook will die.
"What kind of amazing invention is this?" he whispered, dangling the notebook in front of his face between two fingers.
"It needs some improvement."
B didn't flinch at the voice. He turned around to see a horrific phantom in front of him; it looked like the sort of creepy clown he would see in a horror film, with googly eyes and long, spidery limbs, so incredibly ugly yet playful-looking. He bowed low and grinned up at it.
"What's your name?" he asked it.
The being erupted into gales of laughter. "You're certainly a strange one. The name's Ryuk, kid. Pleased to meet you. What do they call you?"
"…Beyond Birthday." He smirked at his own invention. 'B' was simply too plain.
"Fancy name. But I know it's not your real name. I can see your name, you know, above your head, and when you are going to die. I come with that death note, by the way. It was mine."
B almost lost breath. "You have the same eyes as me!"
"What?"
"I can see people dying, all the time! I can always see their names. I want to kill them when they have to die, maybe even before, but I…"
Ryuk chuckled, clearly surprised. "A crazy murderous kid with the eyes of a shinigami…"
"Like, a death god? So, I'm like a god!"
"Absolutely. You just write someone's name in that book, and they'll just die, right there and then. No fingers lifted."
He could hardly contain his delight. He was an ethereal being, born with the eyes of a god of death. And now one had dropped a notebook of death right before him, and appeared to him alone. He knew it… all along. He was not like other humans, he wasn't ordinary. All those electrodes, psychometric tests, they were all for nothing. The answer was not of this world, and no logical human would ever consider something supernatural. Least of all, that infernal Lawliet.
With this, he could win.
Maybe he would test it, just once, but not on Lawliet.
A man walking by, by the name of Bruce Francis, was the perfect target. Obviously homeless, alone and down, B thought that he'd probably be doing this poor man a favour by killing him off.
He extracted one of the pens he kept in his pockets at all times, and scrawled Bruce's name in the death note in his perfect handwriting. Within forty seconds, Bruce violently clutched his chest, and collapsed to the ground in agony. A few people gathered around his writhing, moaning body, before he cried out and fell still, his face contorted in pain.
B's heart was racing. It was easy, it was that easy.
"So, what do you think?" Ryuk asked, impressed.
"This notebook makes killing people easy, convenient. It makes it practical. But, maybe I can give you some advice, if that's alright?"
Ryuk blinked in shock, but nodded with a smile still painted on his ugly face.
"You should write it in English. That way, ordinary people can use it. I'd write more rules in it, too, if you do not want to be bothered with explaining things here countless times. I can see a lot of flaws in it, too. If one had an instrument of death, one could kill effortlessly, but what would be the hardest thing about it? Finding a place to hide it. Cannot have just anyone picking this up, can we?" B sighed and handed the notebook to a stunned Ryuk. "I won't take it."
"Why not? I've never seen a kid so perfect for this notebook."
B grinned and laughed. "It would be so boring, killing people like that! I wanna do it with my bare hands, fair and square."
And so, Ryuk the shinigami disappeared into the distance. B collapsed down, but got up again, confused and disorientated.
"How did I end up here?" he muttered. He brushed the dust from his clothes, and returned to the hotel room, to restart the model made out of blood-red bricks.