The Shinigami realm was bleak and dull. Ryuk had fun and he was more than patient, but.. man. That was a ride of a lifetime, and Light Yagami wasn't even in the picture! He has never had someone almost slightly match the entertainment that he provided unlike her.
Ryuk walked around the realm, he had gotten questioned and laughed at by the other Shinigamis about what has been going down in the Human Realm, but he paid no mind, just quick comments while he passed by. He didn't know when someone will fatefully write on the Death Note again, but it has to be soon. It just has to.
He's still alive, with no memories after all. It's ongoing, and he wants to see how it ends.
Ryuk found a cliff he could sit down on, proceeding to eat one of the last apples on Earth that he took. It was pure silence, watching all the other Shinigamis gamble away, just doing nothing.
...This, this is no fun. What fun is there in that?
Just as he sat there, he felt it.
Someone has written in the Death Note.
He wasted no time in getting up and flying to the hole to the Human Realm, and as he traveled, he realized it was exactly the same area where everyone was at. It doesn't even matter if Montag got it or others got it. He still has a front row seat..
As he followed where the page is at, he finally landed to the location, and as he peered through the buildings and walked through the walls, there he sees...
A human girl, unrelated to the others.
Now, this should be easy, isn't it? Greeting her. It'll be all chill, he thought
So you're the one who wrote on the Death Note.
The young woman sat in silence. It was a small, quiet apartment, with everything arranged as if by a ruler. The center of the room was bare, but in the corners were a bed, a desk, and a closet. She wasn't exactly poor, but rather meticulous: there were no small items around. She even kept the Death Note, with its fake cover, in a separate drawer, tearing out pages to occasionally jot down notes.
Hearing an unfamiliar voice, she turned around. Ryuk could see name above her head — Ageha Moto. She flinched slightly, but seemed more frozen in fear than ready to scream.
...So you're the one God spoke of?
She was dressed in ordinary loungewear—an off-white sweater and pants—but even so, she looked wrong, as if she'd stolen them from a hospital. However, clothes are just clothes, and in no other way did her appearance differ from that of a typical Japanese young woman. Ageho's hair was tied in a bun, and her face looked a little tired.
