- re:note

In the twilight of the death gods' world, where time flows differently from that of humans, Ryuk, one of the most notorious death gods, had spent years wandering in boredom.

It had been four years. Four long years since Ryuk had enjoyed his last juicy apple. His nostalgia for that sweet, tart fruit gnawed at him, making each day an unbearable wait. He no longer had any reason to go down into the human world, and that annoyed him deeply.

As he sat on a pile of dry bones, absent-mindedly playing with a piece of skull, a figure approached him. Zellogi, another god of death, with his lanky body and torn wings, stopped a few steps away, his dull gaze fixed on Ryuk.

- Are you having fun with humans again?" asked Zellogi in a drawling voice.

Ryuk gave a hoarse laugh before shaking his head.

- Not really, no. The king of the Shinigami took back the notebook Midora lent me. Since then, I've been stuck here, dying of boredom.

Zellogi let out a sigh, raising his Death Note in front of him.

- In that case...

Without warning, he opened his fingers and dropped the notebook. Ryuk watched the Death Note plunge through the darkness, sinking into the void towards the human world.

- Go and get it for me, Ryuk.

A broad smile spread across the Shinigami's face. His eyes shone with excitement.

- Heh... That's a good reason to go back!

Without further ado, Ryuk spread his wings, diving back to Earth in the excitement of the new game ahead.

October 2021.

It was a morning like any other. Shōhei Kyōden, a young boy of 15, sat at his desk, his gaze focused on his notebook. His pencil glided precisely over the paper, drawing clean, confident lines. He sketched a scene without thinking about it, letting his imagination guide his hand.

Around him, the classroom was alive with noisy discussion, muffled laughter and disorderly movement, but he paid no attention. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, absorbed by the shapes that were coming to life beneath his face.

Suddenly, a student near the door called out in a hurried voice:

- The teacher's coming!

Immediately, the commotion dissipated as if by magic. Some students rushed to their seats, others discreetly put away their notebooks or slipped their phones into their pockets. Within seconds, the class regained a semblance of discipline.

The door opened, letting the teacher in at a measured pace. He placed a bundle of papers on his desk, adjusted his glasses and swept his gaze around the room before declaring in a neutral tone:

- Right, I'm going to hand in the copies of the last test.

Concern was reflected in the eyes of several students as the teacher began to distribute the papers. With each sheet handed in, he was sure to make a small remark, sometimes encouraging, sometimes tinged with reproach.

- You've made an effort, it's better than last time.

- As inattentive as ever, it shows in your copy...

- Good work, but pay attention to the details next time.

Reactions varied: sighs of relief, exclamations of joy or disappointed murmurs. Some students shared their grade enthusiastically, while others, more discreetly, slipped their copy into their bag without a word.

Then it was Shōhei's turn. Unlike his classmates, who overreacted to their results, he remained impassive. His gaze, always detached, betrayed no emotion.

The teacher slid the copy onto Shōhei's table and declared in a neutral tone:

- Shōhei Kyōden, once again, you've got the top mark.

A few students turned to him briefly, surprised or impressed, but Shōhei, for his part, showed no particular reaction. He merely glanced quickly at his copy before turning it face down on the table, as if it didn't matter.

All around him, his classmates were loudly commenting on their results, some shouting with joy, others groaning in frustration. But Shōhei remained indifferent to all this commotion, his gaze already plunged back into the lines he was tracing on his notebook.

The teacher watched him for a moment, squinting slightly, before continuing with the distribution of papers without adding a word.

It was always like this. Shōhei was getting the best marks in the class, and he was sure he could easily skip a year or two if he wished. Yet he chose to stay at his current level, without looking to go any further.

His table-mate, intrigued, leaned slightly towards him and asked in a low voice:

- I don't understand. With your level, you could already be in high school. So why do you settle for the minimum?

Shōhei looked up from his notebook briefly, shrugged slightly and replied in a detached tone:

- If I pass to the next class, I'll be obliged to work and make an effort. In my situation, I can rest on my laurels.

Then, without paying any further attention to the conversation, he returned his gaze to his notebook, as if the discussion had never taken place.

The bell signaled the end of classes, and Shōhei left the school with a sense of relief mixed with disillusionment. 

Shōhei was a young man with a passion for art, and drawing in particular. His days were spent expressing his creativity through sketches and works of art. He had a gift for capturing the beauty of the world around him on canvas, whether through urban landscapes, expressive portraits or bold graffiti. 

As he wandered through a deserted Tokyo alleyway, armed with his cans of spray paint and his boundless inspiration. He began tagging a brick wall, skilfully mixing colors to create a striking work of urban art. Every movement of his hand was imbued with passion and determination. 

His mother, who was the only person to educate him since the tragic loss of his father, was far from approving of his passion for art. For her, drawing was not a serious profession, and she longed for Shōhei to follow a more conventional path. Quarrels between mother and son were frequent, each argument revolving around the uncertain future Shōhei seemed to be forging for himself by pursuing his artistic dream. 

He couldn't help wondering why his mother wouldn't accept his passion. The questions looped around in his mind as he resumed his aimless walk after finishing his tag. 

It was then that he spotted something unusual on the sidewalk. A thick, black notebook lay carelessly beside a garbage can. Intrigued, Shōhei walked over and picked it up. He thought it might be a lost diary, but when he saw the cover, he was shocked by what he discovered. 

- A Death Note?

Back at home, Shōhei placed the mysterious notebook on his desk. He examined the rules written inside with increasing attention. The list of rules was surprisingly detailed, and the notebook did indeed appear to be an authentic Death Note. 

- "The person whose name is written in this notebook will die..." That's incredible, so it really does exist.

Just then, a sinister voice echoed in his room.

- Of course it exists. 

When Shōhei heard this sinister voice in his room, a shiver of dread ran down his spine. He turned abruptly to face a strange being floating before him. The sight of this being, with its wide eyes and ominous smile, made him recoil instinctively. 

It was Ryuk, the god of death associated with the Death Note. 

Shōhei couldn't help but feel palpable fear in the presence of this supernatural creature. Worry was in his eyes as he realized the gravity of the situation and the consequences of discovering the Death Note. Ryuk, with his ghostly appearance, was an intimidating presence that could not be ignored. 

Shōhei, short of breath and wide-eyed, stammered toward the strange being floating in his room. 

- Who... who are you? And how did you get into my house?

Ryuk, with a mischievous grin, gritted his teeth that sent shivers down Shōhei's spine. 

- I am Ryuk, the god of death. And I'm here because of what you have there. (He pointed to the Death Note on the desk.)

- The Death Note? You can't stay here. If anyone sees you, they'll...

- Only those who have touched the Death Note can see and hear me. And guess what? You touched it. 

Ryuk's answer made Shōhei tremble even more. He knew he was now linked to this supernatural creature in a way he could never have imagined. 

- You look surprised, kid.

Shōhei was stunned. He couldn't believe it was all real. Ryuk explained that the Death Note was indeed genuine and that its previous owner, Minoru Tanaka, had died. Shōhei realized he wasn't dreaming. 

- Why didn't the government use it? Why didn't they harness this power for the good of society?

Ryuk chuckled.

- Because Death Note users always come to a tragic end, kid. No matter how great the power, death awaits them in the end.

- So, if I've understood you correctly, you're telling me that I have in my hands one of the most powerful objects in the world, but that I'll end up dead in any case, right? 

- You could say that, yes.

- I see, in that case I don't want it.

- But... But wait! You should still think about it. You have one of the most powerful objects in the world and you don't want to use it? 

Shōhei gazed at the Death Note before him, his thoughts swirling in his mind. He understood that if anyone else came to possess this notebook, the temptation to follow in Kira's footsteps, to play vigilante, would be almost irresistible. But he knew it was no longer possible to do so. 

Ryuk stared at Shōhei with his piercing red eyes, perplexed.

- So, you're not going to use it, are you?

Shōhei sighed, a resigned look on his face. 

- I see, if you insist, that means you expect something from me.

Ryuk, floating nonchalantly around the room, let out a sneer.

- Well, if you give me back the notebook, I'll be forced to return to the world of shinigami, and I won't be able to taste those succulent apples again.

Shōhei crossed his arms, thinking for a moment before declaring in a calm tone:

- In that case, I want to do what Minoru Tanaka did. I want to sell it.

But Ryuk immediately shook his head, stopping his reasoning dead in its tracks.

- Unfortunately, this is impossible. Since that day, it has been forbidden to sell Death Note for money.

- Well, in a way, that's just as well, since Minoru Tanaka had wreaked economic havoc through his own fault.

Ryuk raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Shōhei's remarks.

- I think I'll have to leave without any apples.

Shōhei thought for a moment, thanks to the two Kiras, the world is now aware of the power of the Death Note. They had sown the seeds of fear and fascination. This was his golden opportunity, and he won't be able to relive it a second time.

- Tell me, Ryuk, what's the main function of this notebook?

- Killing people, of course.

- Wrong answer. In this day and age, anyone who would use the notebook to kill would be a total moron. Everyone knows about the Death Note now, it's no secret.

Ryuk squinted, puzzled.

- I'm not sure what you're getting at.

- I've got two or three questions. Firstly, do you have to stay next to me all the time?

- Well, in part, yes. But I can get about fourteen kilometers away. At that distance, I'll still be able to find you.

- Secondly, are you really invisible to everyone?

- Pretty much, there are only a few KPS members who can see me. 

- All right, then. In that case, I may have a plan...

- Do you? What are you going to do with that notebook?

- This book? I don't care about that book.