Ryuk was bored.

Ever since Light Yagami's death, the human world had returned to its dull, predictable state. No brilliant strategies, no thrilling mind games, no desperate battles between justice and chaos. Near had won. Kira was no more.

But Ryuk couldn’t shake the feeling that something about it all had been… unsatisfying.

Light had been the most interesting human he had ever encountered. Unlike others who had wielded a Death Note before, Light hadn’t simply used it for power or revenge—he had become something greater. Watching him weave his intricate plans, manipulate the world, and come so close to victory had been fun.

But fun never lasted. In the end, Light had died like everyone else who dared to play with a Death Note—desperate, broken, and alone.

Back in the Shinigami Realm, Ryuk wandered through the wasteland of bones, lazily tossing an apple in his skeletal hand. Around him, other Shinigami lounged in eternal boredom, gambling their lifespans away. None of them cared for the human world the way he did. None of them understood the thrill of watching a true genius at work.

He wanted to see it again.

Then, a voice—ancient, hollow—called his name.

At the heart of the wasteland, a throne of bones towered above the rest, and upon it sat the Shinigami King. His body was skeletal, massive, barely moving, as if time itself had begun to wear him away. His empty eyes locked onto Ryuk.

"Ryuk," the King rasped, his voice like stone grinding against stone. "You played a dangerous game with the human, Light Yagami."

Ryuk only grinned. "And it was a good one."

The King extended a decayed finger. From the shadows, a Death Note materialized, floating toward Ryuk. Its cover was smooth, untouched by time. This was not Light Yagami’s notebook—that one had been burned, erased from the world. But this? This was a fresh start.

"A new human will inherit this notebook," the King decreed. "The cycle begins again."

Ryuk tilted his head. "And I get to pick who finds it?"

The King did not answer. He simply vanished into darkness, leaving the notebook behind.

Ryuk caught it, turning it over in his hands. He chuckled, his yellow eyes gleaming. The Shinigami King wanted chaos. Fine by him.

Now, he just needed the right human.

Peering into the human world, Ryuk scanned for someone… interesting. Someone with the intelligence, ambition, and ruthlessness to surpass Light. Someone different.

And then, he found him.

A high school student.

But not just any student. This one wasn’t just intelligent—he was brilliant. Calculating. Cunning. And unlike Light, he wasn’t driven by justice. He wasn’t blinded by ideals.

This boy had a secret.

Ryuk grinned wider than ever before.

"Looks like I’m going back to the human world."

And with that, he let the Death Note fall.

The game had begun again.

To be continued.........

Thanks for reading my cute readers:)

The Death Note fell.

It sliced through the cold night air, invisible to the human eye, twisting and turning as it drifted downward. The city below was a sea of neon lights and restless movement—cars rushing through the streets, advertisements flashing across towering screens, and people going about their routines, unaware that their world was about to change.

The notebook landed in the schoolyard of Shinjuku North High School, coming to rest on a patch of concrete beneath a flickering lamppost. Despite the wind, it did not move. Despite the dozens of students walking past, none of them seemed to notice it. It simply lay there, waiting for the right person to find it.

That person arrived moments later.

Hikaru Tanaka stood near the school gates, his sharp eyes observing the departing students. He had always found people fascinating—how they walked, how they talked, the little patterns in their behavior that they themselves never noticed. Most were predictable, boring even, but sometimes, if he paid close enough attention, he would see something… interesting.

And today, he did.

A black notebook, sitting alone in the schoolyard.

Hikaru frowned slightly. It wasn’t just that the notebook was there—it was the way no one else seemed to acknowledge it. People walked past it without even glancing down. Some even stepped around it unconsciously. That was strange.

Intrigued, he walked toward it, his shoes clicking softly against the pavement. When he reached the notebook, he crouched down and ran his fingers over the cover. It was smooth, cool to the touch, with two words written in bold, plain lettering:

DEATH NOTE

Hikaru’s eyes narrowed. What kind of name is that?

Flipping it open, he skimmed the first page.

> The human whose name is written in this notebook shall die.

He stared at the sentence, then turned the page. There were more rules—detailed, specific, almost methodical in their precision. Too elaborate for a simple joke. Too meticulous to be random nonsense. Whoever had written this had put in a lot of effort.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Interesting.

Still, he wasn’t the type to believe in ghost stories. Supernatural powers? Gods of death? Nonsense. He sighed, shutting the notebook and slipping it into his bag. If nothing else, it might be entertaining to read later.

As he stepped onto the sidewalk and headed toward the train station, a deep voice echoed from above.

“So, you’re the one who picked it up.”

Hikaru froze mid-step.

The voice was unnatural—low, amused, with a rasping edge that sent a faint chill through the air. Slowly, he lifted his gaze.

There, perched on top of a streetlight, was something impossible.

It was tall and grotesque, its body thin and skeletal with gray, decayed-looking skin stretched over sharp bones. Its wings—massive, black, and leathery—were folded against its back. Its yellow eyes gleamed with an eerie glow, and in its long, bony fingers, it casually twirled a half-eaten apple.

Hikaru’s breath should have caught in his throat. His instincts should have screamed at him to run.

But they didn’t.

Instead, he tilted his head slightly and smiled.

“You must be Ryuk.”

The creature blinked. Then, it let out a rasping, delighted laugh. “Oh? You already know my name?”

Hikaru tapped the Death Note in his bag. “I read the rules. It mentioned a Shinigami.”

Ryuk’s grin widened, his jagged teeth glinting under the streetlights. “Smart boy.”

Hikaru’s smile deepened. There was no fear in his expression, no hesitation. Only curiosity.

Something told him that his life had just become very, very interesting.

And he was going to enjoy every second of it.

To be continued.....

Hikaru Tanaka sat at his desk, the Death Note open before him. The dim glow of his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the black notebook’s smooth cover. His fingers traced the paper’s edges, his sharp mind absorbing every rule, every possibility.

Ryuk hovered nearby, his skeletal frame blending into the darkness. His yellow eyes gleamed with amusement as he tossed an apple between his clawed fingers. "You're different," he said, his voice laced with curiosity. "Light Yagami didn’t hesitate. You, on the other hand, are thinking too much."

Hikaru smirked but didn’t look up. "Thinking too much? No, Ryuk. I’m thinking correctly." He tapped the Death Note with a finger. "Light believed he could force the world to follow him. But force creates resistance. Fear breeds rebellion. If Kira had survived, the world would’ve turned against him eventually."

Ryuk chuckled, floating closer. "So what’s your plan? Become a god in a different way?"

Hikaru leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Light wanted worship. I want control. Not fear-driven obedience—true influence. The kind that makes people follow without question. And to do that, I need to test this properly."

He turned to his laptop, pulling up a live news broadcast.

BREAKING NEWS: HOSTAGE CRISIS IN TOKYO—ARMED ROBBER HOLDS STORE CLERK AT GUNPOINT

A shaky phone recording filled the screen, showing a small convenience store surrounded by flashing police lights. Inside, a masked man gripped a terrified cashier by the arm, waving a handgun. The news ticker displayed his name.

Takeshi Nomura, 32.

Perfect.

Hikaru picked up his pen and, with smooth, deliberate strokes, wrote the name in the Death Note.

Takeshi Nomura steps outside, surrenders to police, and confesses to all past crimes before collapsing from a heart attack.

Then, he waited.

Five seconds. Ten. Thirty.

On the news feed, the situation remained unchanged. Then—movement.

The camera zoomed in as Takeshi Nomura suddenly froze. His grip on the hostage loosened. His gun hand trembled. Slowly, as if in a trance, he stepped toward the glass doors.

The police shouted, raising their weapons, but he ignored them. He walked outside, hands raised, his eyes wide with something beyond fear—almost as if something was forcing him forward.

Then, to everyone’s shock, he dropped to his knees.

"I... I confess!" he blurted, his voice shaking. "I've killed before—I've robbed, hurt people. I was never caught, but—I—I can’t hide anymore!"

Gasps erupted from the reporters. Officers looked at one another in confusion. The confession continued for nearly a minute. Then, without warning, Takeshi clutched his chest, his face twisting in pain.

He collapsed.

The camera shook as people screamed. Paramedics rushed in. But Hikaru knew the truth. He was dead.

Hikaru exhaled slowly, setting his pen down.

Ryuk grinned, floating closer. "Well, well. You didn’t just kill him—you made him confess first. That’s a new one."

Hikaru smirked, closing the Death Note. "This is just the beginning. Light Yagami tried to become a god." His eyes gleamed with something dark, something calculating.

"I’m going to become something even greater."

To be continued...