Shinigami's Apprentice

Disclaimer: Pinkfeline does not own Death Note nor played any part in it's conception. This story is a fan work and should not be taken as canon.

The child stalked to the banks of the stream, taking cover in the solitary cover of the surrounding trees. His body was trembling and the hands at his sides were clutched tightly. Standing at the watery edge, body rigid with tension and fighting hot angry tears, the boy kept his silence. For some long minutes he waged war against his emotions, in internal struggle that sometimes stole his very breath by its intensity.

Whether he won or lost the war could not be said for a voice had cut through silence and conflict alike, deeply resounding but quietly uttered.

"You are fighting a losing battle"

The boy started in surprise but it was a blank face that turned to acknowledge the unexpected presence. He did not speak nor make any gesture at the big lumbering man seated to his side. How such a man could have joined him without his knowledge was a mystery later to be examined and unravelled. The man had most certainly not been there when the boy had initially stalked to this spot.

Boy and man gazed appraisingly at each other, enveloped in a natural silence that was rare in modern society. The boy was the first to break the silence.

"I have won thus far, what makes you think I won't again?"

That voice, though youthful, held such an undercurrent of steel beneath its silky tone that many had marvelled at the illusion of maturity the boy possessed. He spoke not in insolence but merely with confidence. Confident that his opinion, his view of life was as relevant as those held by his elders.

The man did not seem at all surprised at such an arrogant statement.

"You are fighting a war against hate, and that my boy, is an enemy greater than any you'll ever face."

"Hate is an emotion like any other"

The man inclined his head in acknowledgement at the statement, but his eyes, rustic brown and cold spared him no illusion of agreement.

"No. Hate is born from fear, and when not from fear, it is born from defeat. Humans hate what they fear, and they hate that which defeats them. Hate is an unwilling acknowledgement that the subject in question has power over oneself. Humans have no reason to hate those beneath them, only those whom have the potential to be equal or greater than oneself. Hate is a defensive reaction against a threat, whether perceived or real. Hate can be controlled no more than love can, and is cause of as much destruction as it's romantic counterpart."

The boy's face creased into a frown, tears long gone without trace, a contemplative calm taking residence in his eyes. Deep in thought, his gaze slid from the man to the clear sparkling flow of the stream. The angry storm of the boys' temper dispersed to the gentle lull of new thought. Silence once more resided in the space around them, untouched by awkwardness.

"Who are you?"

Perhaps such a question should have passed between them earlier, but it was neither a demand nor a true inquiry. Still the man grinned at the boy's words; a wide toothed stretching of lips that was in no way friendly or warm.

"I am the Shinigami King"

Sceptic eyes turned on the self-proclaimed King of Death, a fraction wider with controlled wonder at such a bold and unexpected proclamation.

"So what are you doing here then?"

The man's grin did not fade but took on a superficial quality as if it had been painted on his face. His lips stretched a fraction too wide, revealing teeth sharper than they should have been.

"We Shinigami are a dying race."

The boy made no more reaction, regarding the King with a critical eye.

"That fails to answer my question."

The King nodded once, his eyes ever trained on the boy's.

"It explains everything. When a race is approaching extinction, those who are left look for and take any means in prolonging life and ensuring the continuation of their species. A need that is driven by instinct, amongst other things."

The boy shifted once, feeling a little uncomfortable where he stood, but unwilling to give the stranger any leverage by sitting down. Standing, he was eye to eye and therefore at an equal standing.

"You're talking about sex. Making babies."

The King chuckled at the youthful distaste of such topics that the boy could not hide despite trying. The downward contemptuous twist of his lips, the narrowed gaze and furrowed brow all gave the boy away. Perhaps in a few years the boy's mask would be perfected, but as of yet he was still learning. Real amusement made the Shinigami chuckle at the fresh suspicion directed at him from the mortal.

"Yes, procreation is the general means of ensuring a species survival. However, it is an act that can only be performed by the living. Death cannot breed life. Only life can do so."

Understanding flooded shrewd young eyes.

"You Shinigami cannot produce offspring because you are biologically dead."

The Shinigami King made no motion to confirm or deny the child's statement, and that was confirmation enough.

"That still does not quite explain why you are here. Even if you were to…have sex with humans, offspring will still be impossible."

"Very good, yes."

"So then, how?"

"When no offspring can be produced, then the only alternative is to steal. To take the offspring of another and make it into one of it's own."

Tension crept into the mortals' youthful frame, the tiniest flicker of fear in deep brown eyes. Still, when the child spoke, it was with a steady and confident voice.

"So is it your intentions then to take children? Whether willing or not, to take them from their families? Is it even possible for life to exist beyond the boundaries of nature and in a world of death?"

The Shinigami stood, his broad mortal frame rising like a great shadow against the half-light. Bending down, thick hands touched the chill currents of the running stream. The boy watched.

"You are correct only in part. I am here, as you say, to find new children to take as my own. But it is not how you imagine it to be. Life cannot pass into the realm of the Shinigami, only by death can it be entered. What use then is children, still so young and untrained, to the life of Shinigami where they will never have the benefit of maturing? No, I only came to make my choice and to watch each of them grow."

At last the boy allowed himself a seat, sitting well away from the strange man and keeping a wary eye about him.

"I still don't understand."

He received a thoughtful sound in return before the cold eyes turned on him once more. Again the boy suppressed a shiver.

"At the right time, each of the chosen ones will face a choice, a test. The result I can not foretell, but then, I do have a couple of thousand years to replace any that fail."

"What happens should they either pass or fail?"

Here the Shinigami grinned again, that same unpleasantly cold amusement colouring his face.

"Those who fail will simply forget"

"And the ones who pass?"

"Hmm. Naturally, the ones who proves their worth as a Shinigami will die and then become one. How, when or why has no importance, nor does their age."

"Am I correct then in assuming that I am one of your 'chosen' brats?"

The steel was back, a measure to the boy's discomfort.

"Yes, and I do believe that perhaps you will even exceed my expectations."

Uncertain as to whether he should be insulted or complemented, the child glanced away with a frown marring his sweet face.

"What makes you think I will do as you say? I certainly have no plans of dying"

"All that lives is mortal and shall pass away, boy. But do not think you will walk away from this place with the knowledge I have given you."

The boy glanced at him.

"What do you mean?"

He was given no reply as the Shinigami stood and turned away. Slowly the large man began walking away, sparing no backwards glance towards the boy. He did pause briefly however, and with a voice filled with so many promises and lies called out to the boy.

"We shall meet again soon, Yagami Light, and I will be the one welcoming you to a new life."

With that he was gone, a fragment of his imagination.

Light stood from his place by the stream and made his own way home, back to the house of his grandparents. He paused briefly to glance back at the stream, wondering what he had been doing there for the last hour since storming away in a rage.

So it was that the boy forgot the Shinigami King's words and promises. But as the King had said, so came the time of testing.

And that is where the real story begins.