Death Note Fan Fiction ❯ Close ❯ Close ( Chapter 1 )

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Kira: Saviour or Demon Vigilante?

 

The article's headline dares to question what my intentions are. I skim the article, smiling slightly at the inane comments and opinions of my followers. They are all my followers, worshipping me even if they aren't yet aware of it. My name is on the tip of everyone's tongue. Thoughts of punishment invade people's every thought, forcing them to make decisions based on how God- on how I- will react. It thrills and flatters me that they fear me so much.

 

I'm amused when I read what others think about me. As much as they debate and have the audacity to question my morals, they are all scared. Fear, and the Notebook, are my most powerful weapons in this war against evil. A war I am quickly winning. My future is bright.

 

Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick

 

The immediate present is not bright, but loud. I glance at the man chained to me. He is typing something and seems to be obnoxiously loud on purpose. This is what life has come to with him; us testing each other, trying to see what it takes to make the other break. At the moment, he is the victor.

 

“What are you typing, Ryuuzaki?” I am not afraid to let my curiosity show. He's seen me much more... exposed.

 

Dark eyes meet mine, but he doesn't answer. His fingers hover over the keys as he seems to think on his reply to me. A chunk of his messy hair veils his face before he responds.

 

“Notes.”

 

I stare, waiting for more of an explanation. He does not offer any.

 

“Notes about what?”

 

He smiles, pleased that he has forced me to beg- as he surely sees it as that. “About Light-kun.”

 

I refuse to show anymore interest. I turn back to my article, less amused and definitely not focused. He is on the ball this morning. Must be the new type of doughnuts that Watari brought to him.

 

There is silence between us for a few minutes before he tugs on the chain, his latest way of getting my attention. I look at him, masking my irritation behind a false smile.

 

“Light-kun, if you must know-” Since I forced this information from him, of course- “I am taking notes on how the percentage of you being Kira fluctuates from day to day.”

 

I raise my eyebrows skeptically.

 

He rest his elbows on the arms of his chair and steeples his bony fingers in thought. He speaks to the computer screen in front of him and his words are quiet. I have to lean towards him to hear him. His plan all along, I assume.

 

“I find that you have managed to manipulate the way I calculate my percentages. Light-kun is very crafty.” He winks at me. It is a disarming gesture.

 

I show a sufficient amount of shock at the suggestion that I, ME, have any hold over how the Great Detective L calculates his ridic- um, helpful and accurate percentages. Inside I am seething with annoyance and something that some people would call hurt at the accusation. I disregard the latter emotion.

 

“Honestly, Ryuuzaki,” I am deeply exasperated. “How did you come to this conclusion? What's the proof?” I am also sincerely intrigued by this so-called mastermind's plot to find any way possible to mark me as Kira. The man will stop at nothing to prove his point. A quality I admire about him, come to think of it.

 

Again, he waits. I wonder if he is pausing for dramatic effect or if he is really thinking over his words before he says them. Both are things he would do. Both annoy me to no end.

 

My politely inquisitive smile turns to genuine horror as he scoots his chair so close to me that mine rolls backwards and hits the wall with a loud thud. His fingers snake out like twigs and his grip on my arm is vice like. It takes all I have to control the sudden and instinctual urge to hit him.

 

His voice is a low whisper on my face, causing heat to rise from my neck and colour me red. I can feel the uncharacteristic blush spreading all over my body. It makes me nauseous in a way that has me squirming in my chair, though I can't tell if I'm trying to get closer to him or farther away.

 

I am, as usual, at a loss as to how to deal with these emotions and feelings of arousal. I am versed enough to know that pleasure should not be derived from negativity, such as verbal arguments, physical violence, and the like. I have never considered myself normal though.

 

“I noticed a consistent pattern of decreased percentages on the days we copulate and especially on the days when you are the receiver.”

 

My brows draw together and a frown presents itself. He is whispering, yes, but there are still others in the small, echo-friendly room. Others whom I am suddenly acutely aware of. I feel their eyes on us. At this point I'm hoping they think we are on the verge of a fist fight and not on the verge of... whatever.

 

I open my mouth to speak, to reprimand him for being so careless in his choice of subject matter, but his cool finger against my lips stop me. Someone clears their throat. It sounds like my father.

 

Ryuuzaki leans impossibly closer, almost spilling out of his chair. Which would put him in my lap, so maybe it was okay that he was teetering so close...

 

My frown deepens as I realize the thoughts I'm having. I am usually not this inappropriate. However, I do not usually have Ryuuzaki nearly on top of me. At least not outside our bedroom.

 

“Light-kun, you're the one who wanted to know what I was typing.” His finger leaves a warmth on my lips and my tongue flicks out to taste the sugary residue he left.

 

“Everything alright?” My father is standing now, inching closer to us. I scowl, unable to construct my usual mask of indifference.

 

I am saved, ironically, by the raven haired detective. “Yes, Yagami-san. We are getting better at stopping before we get started.” Ryuuzaki punches me playfully in the arm and wags his finger at me. “Light-kun, please try do the task assigned to you instead of reading tabloids.”

 

He was gone as suddenly as he came, with a quick click on my keyboard, closing the screen with my article on it.

 

I smile placidly at my father and ask to be excused, feigning exhaustion. Ryuuzaki sighs irritably but grabs his laptop and complies, following me to our bedroom. I plan on making sure those percentages are at an all time low for the next few hours.