Chapter 3

Hikaru Tanaka sat at his desk, the Death Note open before him. The dim glow of his desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the black notebook’s smooth cover. His fingers traced the paper’s edges, his sharp mind absorbing every rule, every possibility.

Ryuk hovered nearby, his skeletal frame blending into the darkness. His yellow eyes gleamed with amusement as he tossed an apple between his clawed fingers. "You're different," he said, his voice laced with curiosity. "Light Yagami didn’t hesitate. You, on the other hand, are thinking too much."

Hikaru smirked but didn’t look up. "Thinking too much? No, Ryuk. I’m thinking correctly." He tapped the Death Note with a finger. "Light believed he could force the world to follow him. But force creates resistance. Fear breeds rebellion. If Kira had survived, the world would’ve turned against him eventually."

Ryuk chuckled, floating closer. "So what’s your plan? Become a god in a different way?"

Hikaru leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes narrowing. "Light wanted worship. I want control. Not fear-driven obedience—true influence. The kind that makes people follow without question. And to do that, I need to test this properly."

He turned to his laptop, pulling up a live news broadcast.

BREAKING NEWS: HOSTAGE CRISIS IN TOKYO—ARMED ROBBER HOLDS STORE CLERK AT GUNPOINT

A shaky phone recording filled the screen, showing a small convenience store surrounded by flashing police lights. Inside, a masked man gripped a terrified cashier by the arm, waving a handgun. The news ticker displayed his name.

Takeshi Nomura, 32.

Perfect.

Hikaru picked up his pen and, with smooth, deliberate strokes, wrote the name in the Death Note.

Takeshi Nomura steps outside, surrenders to police, and confesses to all past crimes before collapsing from a heart attack.

Then, he waited.

Five seconds. Ten. Thirty.

On the news feed, the situation remained unchanged. Then—movement.

The camera zoomed in as Takeshi Nomura suddenly froze. His grip on the hostage loosened. His gun hand trembled. Slowly, as if in a trance, he stepped toward the glass doors.

The police shouted, raising their weapons, but he ignored them. He walked outside, hands raised, his eyes wide with something beyond fear—almost as if something was forcing him forward.

Then, to everyone’s shock, he dropped to his knees.

"I... I confess!" he blurted, his voice shaking. "I've killed before—I've robbed, hurt people. I was never caught, but—I—I can’t hide anymore!"

Gasps erupted from the reporters. Officers looked at one another in confusion. The confession continued for nearly a minute. Then, without warning, Takeshi clutched his chest, his face twisting in pain.

He collapsed.

The camera shook as people screamed. Paramedics rushed in. But Hikaru knew the truth. He was dead.

Hikaru exhaled slowly, setting his pen down.

Ryuk grinned, floating closer. "Well, well. You didn’t just kill him—you made him confess first. That’s a new one."

Hikaru smirked, closing the Death Note. "This is just the beginning. Light Yagami tried to become a god." His eyes gleamed with something dark, something calculating.

"I’m going to become something even greater."

To be continued...

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