• "Tamegiri," stated the grey monster, his teeth sharp and stained. "What are you doing?"

    The one named Tamegiri was a dark green, resembling a plant. A wicked, rotting venus flytrap of sorts, turned from his place on the standing cliff. His beady seeds crumpled as they looked to the one who spoke.
    "I lost my notebook."

    "So?" Began the first.

    Tamegiri's roots began to dry and shrivel, his height crumpling as time passed.
    "I have not written any names in a very long time. It is my time, Greyson."

    "Has it really been so long?" said the first, his eyes watching the plant shrivel and dry up.

    But the question could not be answered with words, as the plant's vicious mouth opened in one last grasp, a long tongue stretching out for a monotone sky it could not reach. The thick stem could not hold the weight of the bud and it fell to the side, the pompous head leaking copious amounts of fluids.
    Only thirty seconds passed before a swarm of flies came to the mass, sucking at the fluid, laying their eggs, and many maggots eating away the shell of the shinigami.

    For one so accustomed to death, it was strange the corpse brought forth such life.

    Greyson's massive lips covered his teeth in a frown.