Fic - The Irregularity of Death - Chapter Two - Shinigami

[elfowlgirl]

The idea for this story came about from confusing the word "sharingan" for "shinigami".

Chapter Two: Shinigami

“If a human uses the note, a god of death usually appears in front of him/her within 39 days after he/she uses the note.”

“You have the Shinigami eyes?” Davion beamed.

Etho blinked. “Shee-nee-gah-mee? What?”

“Come on, if you can see people’s death dates, you must have the Shinigami eyes. Or you’re like, part Shinigami or something. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal though.” Andrew rolled his eyes once more. “Do you have a -”

“What are Shinigami eyes?”

“They - you make a deal with a god of death. That’s what ‘Shinigami’ means. It’s Japanese.” He started to dig through his bag, tossing a few papers aside before finding whatever he’d been looking for.

“I… still don’t think I follow.”

“Okay then, follow me instead.” Andrew gripped Etho’s wrist and proceeded to drag him down the hall, completely forgetting the item he had been searching for in his bag. “C’mon, this’ll all make sense in a moment.”

---

The house was, essentially, enormous. Larger than the town’s two-story high school, the red bricks of the mansion stretched up into the air. Beautiful white pillars supported the outer balcony from the second floor, framed on either side by elegant glass windows.

An oversized fountain took up much of the front lawn, a beautiful mermaid statue breathing the stream of water forth and creating a colorful rainbow as it flowed.

Well-kept pavement wrapped around the statue to meet the house after a long trip from the tree-enclosed golden gates.

It was surprising that the road could be kept in such pristine condition considering the speed Davion drove his cherry red convertible up the drive before screeching to a halt (and leaving skidmarks) at the front door.

He leapt out of the car and grabbed what appeared to be a brown grocery bag, hopped around to the front steps, easily bounding up them before reaching the massive double doors. Reaching around to the keypad beside them, he typed in a many digit number. Satisfied when the keypad’s light turned green, Davion threw open the doors to the house.

Etho, on the other hand, meandered his way out of the car and slowly followed his companion up the steps.

“Welcome,” Andrew grinned as he removed his goggles, “to the Davion Estate.”

“This is your house?”

“Yep! And my parents are never home so we can do whatever we like so long as it still looks nice for whatever party they’ll be throwing two Wednesdays from now.” He led the way into the house, through an elaborately decorated foyer and into a well stocked and shockingly pristine kitchen. “Help yourself.”

“Nice place.” Etho grabbed a shiny red apple from a bowl of fruit. He contemplated taking a bite of it, but found it a somewhat better time to voice his concerns than to snack. “So… why exactly am I here?”

“Oh! Right. Shinigami eyes. Zisteau!” Davion’s voice echoed throughout the house, taking a few moments before it faded completely. “And I should probably…”

He tossed the brown bag onto the island, its contents clinking together in chorus. Reaching around to grab his backpack - Etho hadn’t even noticed he’d brought it in - he pulled out a thin black book.

The goggled boy held out the book. “Here. Touch it.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Etho stared at the book for a moment before firmly stating, “No.”

“What?” Davion blinked in confusion. “Why?”

“I want an explanation before something else happens. You dragged me here without telling me anything. No exceptions.” The teen crossed his arms. “Now start explaining.”

“I - fine, fine. Where to start…” He flipped through a few pages of the notebook, scribbled something down in blue pen, and then began his speech.

“A Shinigami, as I explained earlier, is the term for a Japanese god of death. In exchange for half your remaining lifespan, a Shinigami can grant you their eyes. Those Shinigami eyes can see the name and time of death for any human in existence. Although… I don’t know why you have them if you can you don’t know what a Shinigami is.”

“Only one of my eyes can see names and numbers,” Etho interrupted. “My right eye.”

“Hm. Weird. You can ask about it later. Anyway, like I said, a Shinigami’s eyes can see the time of death for any human in existence… except for the wielder of a Death Note.” Andrew held up the black book he’d been holding, which had the white words “Death Note” printed neatly on the cover. “A Death Note is a Shinigami’s tool for expanding their life. Rule one of the Death Note - ‘the human whose name is written in this Death Note… shall die’.”

“You’re making that up,” Etho accused immediately. “That sounds like something out of a TV show or novel or something.”

“Then why don’t I have a number over my head?” When his companion said nothing, Davion continued, “Touch it and you’ll see. Another rule of the Death Note - ‘a human who touches a Death Note can recognize the image and voice of its original owner, a god of death,’” he held out the book tantalizingly again, “‘even if the human is not the owner of the note.’”

They stood there in a silent stand off for a few moments.

Etho touched one finger to the cover of the notebook.

And suddenly someone else was in the room with them.

Floating over the brown bag that had been thrown onto the island a few minutes ago was a strange creature. It mostly resembled a boar or swine of some kind, with its elongated pink snout and semi-sharp tusks. However, not only did it stand somewhat awkwardly on its hind legs - he assumed, at least, that it could stand from the way it held itself - that it was also missing large chunks of flesh from various places. Some areas lacked skin, revealing a putrid green color. The right side of its face was all bone, including its empty eye socket. The same side of its chest showed off exposed ribs.

Perhaps the strangest thing about this whole scenario was the fact that the Shinigami was wearing pants.

The white haired boy found it surprisingly difficult to prevent himself from jumping backwards at the sudden appearance of the creature. At some sort of odd compromise, he simply found himself leaning slightly backwards away from it as it inspected the contents of the grocery bag.

“I’m assuming by your reaction you can see him - it’s fine, I freaked out worse the first time.” Davion gestured to the Shinigami with one hand. “Etho Slab, this is Zisteau. Zisteau, this is Etho.”

Zisteau looked briefly over at Etho. “Hi.” He put one hand - hoof - into the brown bag, careful not to nudge it or its contents other than to pull out a single blue bottle and inspect its label. “Now that he can see me, can I have this?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.”

“Sweet.” The pigman popped the cork from the alcohol’s bottle with ease before downing the entire drink in a manner of seconds.

“Any questions? Or does this not make any sense to you?”

“I’d like to say this still doesn’t make any sense, but instead it just seems confusing. Wait - do you use the Death Note? As in, you kill people?”

“Only people who deserve it!” Davion chimed cheerfully. “Don’t worry, you’re not on the list… yet.”

Upon seeing the other teen’s expression, Andrew exhaled a resigned sigh. “I was kidding. Look - I know it’s probably been a long day, and I bet this is a lot to take in. How about I drive you home so you get there before sundown and can work on homework or whatever, and you come by again over the weekend? Also, gimme your phone, I can program my number in.”

Wordlessly, Etho held out his phone. Andrew quickly typed his number in before handing it back. “How’s Saturday, around noon? We can meet at my house and then drive over to the Silver Spoon, down on Main Street. It’s a nice restaurant-cafe kinda place. And I can cover it if Pigderp over there doesn’t keep drinking his way through my allowance.”

“Sure, I guess. I’ll have to check with Pause and Beef first, but we usually hang out on weeknights, so it should be fine.”

“Great, then, c’mon. We should get going.”

Zisteau’s sole ear perked up as he placed another empty bottle down on the marble countertop. “Grab me some more alcohol while you’re out, will ya?”

“You went through another bag again? Start rationing it out or I’m not going to be getting you any more.”

Davion grabbed Etho’s wrist and dragged him out of the house before the Shinigami got the chance to respond.