Note: This little omake was inspired by a reviewer who said she/he could just imagine Raito’s grave, and then a smaller grave next to it.

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Tears glided dramatically down his cheeks, and above, the cloudy sky roared it's sympathy, like a giant lion roaring in sympathy over the fact that his enemy’s lion cub had just dropped dead, but he didn’t really care, he just wanted to seem noble. He--Raito, not the lion--leaned down in front of the grave, praying to the God he knew was just a folie a plusieurs that his little buddy would be returned to him. It wouldn’t work, and there was no hope in the action, but somehow it was comforting.

And Ryuuzaki had been so kind about it as well. He had even offered to bury Raito’s little man. Paid for the plot, the stone, and the ex-preacher that now worked at a dildo shop.

Practically kissing the grave, he gazed at it as the cloudy sky finally opened up, weeping with him.

On the tombstone, he read:

Here lay Raito Junior.

R.I.P.

Wailing again, he flung his arms around the unforgiving concrete, cursing his Shinigami existence.

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If you don't get the joke, consider yourself lucky that you're still innocent. Then get out of fandom, 'cause if you stay, you shan't remain that way for long!