Chapter Text
Light Yagami walked to school the same way he had gone the last four years, every day sharing a crosswalk with the same strangers, passing each other at the coffee shop or newsstand before bustling off into their inane lives.
Every day, Tokyo broadcasting the crimes humanity inflicted upon itself. A humanity that is remorseless and unaffected by consequence.
Was there ever really any consequence?
Every day being inundated with the fact that evil persisted and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to stop it.
If only someone could stop it.
This world is rotten.
Ryuk sat perched on his rock that overlooked the human world. The lush landscape below contrasted with the Shinigami realm, which flawlessly embodied what a wasteland should be. Everything there was dry and empty, a shadow of something that existed a long time ago. His fellow gods of death wasted their time gambling and gossiping about one another, their purpose for existing long forgotten.
He took a bite of what passed for an apple while he watched the humans the way some would watch an ant farm. Boredom filled Ryuk as he blew the dusty apple residue into mock smoke rings that swirled and vanished back into the atmosphere. With a chuckle and a careless flick of the wrist, Ryuk dropped the Death Note to the unsuspecting world he had been so intently observing. He took one long look at his musty surroundings before leaping from his roost and descending into the blue and green beneath him.
This world is rotten.
Quillish Wammy’s eyes took in the small heap crouching in the corner of the bookshop.
When he tried to approach the child, he scooched away, pushing himself backwards with his is grubby bare feet until he was backed against the wall. His eyes, wide with terror, were ringed in black. His dark disheveled hair, dirty and matted yet spiking in tangles, framed him in neglect. His jeans were muddy and tattered at the bottom as though he had walked on them for miles. An oversized shirt, once white, now dingy and stained with blood, hung over his tiny frame.
He could only imagine the horrors the child’s filthy clothes concealed on his small body.
Slowly, he knelt down and carefully extended his hand towards the boy, who immediately closed is tired eyes tightly and began to tremble with the anticipation of what the strange man’s intentions were.
Quillish sighed heavily as his heart filled with sorrow and disgust.
This world is rotten.
Misa Amane sat on the front stoop as the coroner zipped the black bags that contained the remains of what used to be her mother and father. Inside, the walls of her home were splattered with the blood of her family. She would never be able to step foot inside again. She no longer had a home, a family, or people that loved her.
She was all alone.
Her head dropped forward, shoulders heaving violently up and down as tears poured from her eyes, dripping into tiny saline puddles that stained her tights.
This world is rotten.