The Code of Shinigami
Rule number 1: Only kill those whom you are chosen to kill
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A creaking squeal filled the room as the beige, tattered curtains slid along their railings.
Glistening sunlight poured onto his seemingly pallid skin, threatening to scorch his retinas. As if he were a vampire, he crossed his arms in front of his face, emitting an overdramatic scream. The past two weeks had visibly weakened his body. Since that night when he had taken down his last victim, he had been glued to the console incessantly. He had also maintained his human form since that day. Well, not that he was actually human now, but he looked like one, both, to others and to himself. Yes, even in the mirror, after all, he wasn't a vampire.
After retreating back into the shadows, he glanced at his wrist where a golden watch hung. It was old-fashioned yet stylish. However, the reason he looked at it was not to know the time; no, this watch served only as a cover. In truth, he glanced at the watch that displayed his remaining lifespan.
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Age: 1573 years
Remaining Lifespan: 449 hours
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A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he trotted into the kitchen. He could have spared himself the glance at the watch. Of course, his remaining time hadn't increased. Yet something within compelled him each morning to check the current status. Perhaps it was his survival instinct.
Like a werewolf, his stomach growled at him. Although some Shinigami survived without food, that wouldn't apply to him. After all, it was the only thing that motivated him to get out of bed in the morning. Eating was just awesome!
As he entered the kitchen, bright light illuminated the entire room, reflected everywhere by the white tiles. Only the mold, sprawling like a meadow of flowers on the walls, soaked up some of it.
After repeated shaking of the refrigerator door, it suddenly sprang open, greeting him with a stale smell. What exactly it came from, was a mystery to him. The fridge was empty, after all. At that moment, it was practically a reflection of his own soul. Cold and empty. This overly edgy thought made him chuckle.
"Didn't I just go shopping...?" he muttered to himself, heading to the bathroom. Over the last few decades, beautiful colorful patterns had also been drawn on the walls here. Surely the landlord would try to blame him when he moved out soon. They always tried to do that. But he really hadn't been a bad tenant!
The initially faint splashing had turned into a waterfall-like rush as he stood there relieving himself. Just like the drops that jumped out of the toilet in all directions, his thoughts wandered wildly in his head. Being reminded every day that he was approaching his death day was still a strange feeling after all this time. It did something to him.
Luckily, he had built up a small buffer of lifespan for tough times. But lately, or rather, ever since video games existed, it had inexplicably dwindled further and further.
Suddenly, he felt a vibration on his thigh. Instinctively, he reached for it.
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Laureen: Yo bitch, have you finally completed your assignment? Let's meet up again some time :3
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His gaze lingered thoughtfully on the display as he flushed the toilet, almost dropping the phone in the process.
Of course, he hadn't completed the assignment yet. He always wanted to, but instead endlessly procrastinated, pushing the assignment further and further away until the fateful day arrived. Thus, it was no surprise he was barely scraping by, teetering on the brink of death.
Though, he still had lots of time for his next victim, so there was no need to panic. After all, he was already quite close to them.
Without replying to the message, he pocketed the phone again.
But it vibrated once more.
"Can I not even enjoy my morning in peace?" he hissed irritably. Yet as if by magic, he already had the phone back in his hand. The power of habit.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
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Laureen: Bitch, I know you read it >:(
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He stared blankly at the message.
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Laureen: Don't look at me like that >.<
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...
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Laureen: I'm whorred, let me know if anything's up :c
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One of his eyebrows raised in question. Whorred...?
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Laureen: Worried*
Laureen: Sry, fat fingered! You know me XD
He chuckled slightly. For those who knew Laureen well, this message wasn't only a perfect description of her personality, but also her entire character.
She was the only one who cared about him. Not even he himself cared that much.
He typed a short response before getting ready to leave the house to buy some food. Since he didn’t own any clothes, it wouldn’t take him long to get changed. Not that he would go outside naked; instead he just used the same skill that he had used to gain his human-like look. It was a skill that every Shinigami possessed.
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Shadow-Skin:
Change your look to whatever you like.
You’re able to generate real clothing by using this spell and/or change the external characteristics of your body. However, it’s not possible to change the actual form of your body. You’ll be bound to a fixed human body type.
Using this spell costs lifetime depending on the size of changes.
Changing between your Shadow-Skin and Shinigami-form is cost-free, but might leave you with an awkward feeling if done often in a short period of time.
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There were also some other skills shared among the Shinigami, like 'Fluent Language', which allowed them to speak and understand any language spoken by the human race. It was essential to blend in among their people without drawing suspicion.
After his clothing had manifested around his body, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud, yet the fridge door remained wide open.
In a slightly crouched posture, he strolled along the street, absent-mindedly observing as one foot followed the other. It had been a long time since he had possessed extremities, and since he rarely used them at home, it would take a while for him to get used to them again. The rhythmic movements of his legs had something hypnotic about them.
It wasn't until he crossed the third intersection that he noticed how unusually busy streets were today. Not just compared to his room. Many children and teenagers were out and about.
Oh right, today is the first day of school. Of course, just when I decide to leave the house...
He buried his hands deep in his pockets and maneuvered visibly annoyed through the crowds of people. His pace quickened as he passed a group of teenagers. His body stiffened and tensed as amused laughter erupted behind him. Fragments of conversations seeped into his consciousness.
"Did you do the homework?"
"Huh? As if I'd do that crap during holidays, no way! Haha..."
"Let's just copy from someone, the teachers never check anyway."
These kids; they were so carefree. It reminded him of his past.
Suddenly he froze in the midst of the crowd, a strange sensation washing over him. Some sort of anger... or perhaps it was jealousy? Jealous of what? The simplicity of a human's life?
Shinigami aren’t supposed to have such feelings...
But then… why wouldn’t it stop?!
Clearly this 'boy' appeared to be an anomaly among his kind. One might even say he didn't differ too much from humans in his way of thinking. And with each passing century, it had gotten worse.
Did that mean he was one of them? A human? No, definitely not. Yet, he no longer felt entirely like a Shinigami either. He performed this duty simply because he had no other choice. Well, at least, that's what he told himself. The only other option would have been to stop killing and die—presumably. After all, no one knew for sure what awaited a Shinigami if they defied their command.
But there was no way he would try and put his God's patience to the test.
A soft smile crossed his face as an amusing thought crossed his mind.
Maybe if he killed the God of Shinigami, he would be freed from this spell. Finally enjoying the life of an immortal, never having to do anything.
But who was he kidding here? There’s no way he was going to kill a God. His God.
As if the latter had listened to his thoughts, a notification popped up on his watch - the one only he could see.
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Outlaw sighted!
Name: ...
Bounty: 74 years (tax-free)
Ability: ...
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The 'boy' jolted as the robotic, feminine-sounding voice ripped him from his thoughts. Incredulously, he blinked as he stared at the display. He remained like that for a while. To outsiders, it may have seemed like he had trouble reading the clock, while his gaze absentmindedly lingered on it.
So-called 'Outlaws' were people who had escaped death, specifically ones that were supposed to be initiated by a Shinigami. From that moment on, these Outlaws were open for any Shinigami to kill. They were, in a sense, a jackpot, especially for someone like the 'boy', who could only dream of acquiring a catch such as 74 years worth of lifetime just like that.
A smile came over his lips.
What a coincidence...
Or perhaps, the universe just had an extremely dark sense of humor. Coincidentally encountering an Outlaw on his way just as he was about to lament about his miserable life.
Amused, he laid a hand over his face, starting to giggle until bursting out in laughter.
It was as if his God had told him to stop thinking and finally start killing. For real this time.
Guess my next assignment will have to wait a bit longer.