• Ever since news of the kira had reached the shinigami world, it was a much more "lively" place. All of the gods had something meaningful to talk about. There was no more lying around.

    That was fourteen years ago.

    Now it was back to its original, dreary self. But there has been a whisper in the dead wind of another group of humans taking the reins of the world...

    Gyuuki lay across the craggy ground, much like another shinigami had done 15 years ago. His face forever in a cynical laughing form, the others did not take him seriously. No one except for the Three Dancers: Mokkichyo, Subbuma, and Funakin. Them, along with Gyuuki, were the life of the shinigami realm, if there ever was one. Always doing crazy s**t, even for a god.

    "hey Gyuuki," Mokkichyo called. "here's one we haven't tried. Hyuk, hyuk."

    "You mean one we haven't completely bored to life?" Subbuma cackled, his indifferent face making it hard to believe.

    "Anyways," Mokkichyo continued." I say we give these humans a little fun, eh?"

    Gyuuki sighed. "Fine by me, but I get to call the shots."

    A chorus of laughter was thrown around the desert. One by one, starting with Gyuuki, each god climbed down the worn steps of the shinigami realm, and threw a notebook. Not just any notebook, though. A deathnote.



    okay, i lied. this isn't going to feature any human activity.