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Perfect Creature	By : Nilahxapiel Category: Death Note > Yaoi-Male/Male > L/Light Views: 1676 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. And it's pretty fucking obvious I make no money off of this.

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Perfect Creature

Rated M for Mature

Alternate Universe (the only variable being Light's father died at the age of two, therefore ever attempt will be made to follow a realistic storyline based on that single modification), Violence, Adult Themes, and Heterosexual Relations, and (very) eventual Homosexual Relations.

After a tragedy, Light is left fatherless at the age of two, and raised by a broke single mother in a bad part of town. Existing for survival alone wears hard on a boy. Brains don't mean much when they're splattered on the pavement. Eventual Yaoi.

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Chapter One – Year 2002

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"He who cannot change the very fabric of his thought will never be able to to change reality, and will never, therefore, make and progress." -Anway Sadat

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Anyone that knew anything about him knew that he liked to observe. Then again, there were not many that knew anything about him.

That was the way that L liked to keep it.

However, the only person that knew that he enjoyed observing to this extent was Watari. The man was aware of all of his peculiarities, from his affinity for sweets to the fact that occasionally he liked to venture outside of the safety of his hotel or the local cafe to see just what he was dealing with in the city he happened to be visiting. Japan was an interesting country, with a fascinating culture, one where normality was everything from the business man in the ritzier sections of Tokyo to the faux-Geisha in the red light district. He'd been in Italy for the last six months and had gotten enough of the loud Latin atmosphere. If there was anything to say for Japan, it was that it was clean, and even when it was busy it was never noisy for the sake of being noisy.

First he'd found himself dragging his untied tennis shoes down the sidewalk of a part of town that was the equivalent of the USA's Wall Street. Every man and woman that was not in a business suit was dressed to the nines in some other fashion. Armani, Prada, other brand names that L knew less than nothing about adorned people from head to toe.

People looked down at his faded jeans, cotton shirt and five dollar tennis shoes that weren't even entirely on his feet as an insult to the ground he was walking on. It amused him that anyone could have such attachment to items that in a year or two would be worn down or out of 'style' and be thrown away.

"What is that homeless man doing here?"

"Foreign tourists and their disrespect-"

"-no sense of urgency-move it!"

"...probably American..."

It was not his favorite part of town to say the least.

His favorite was the street with twelve bakeries within a mile radius, all high class and with different delicacies that L was more than happy to spend his time tasting. He spent three hours on that street alone-after all, it was lunch time, and he deserved a rest after all the walking he'd been doing. Their reactions to a man such as L, odd in looks, actions and decidedly not Japanese, was fairly friendly, especially when he opened his wallet to them so generously.

After that, he headed east, finding himself in average parts of the city that looked like nothing more than copies of other sectors, from the small fish markets to the comic book stores and the public schools that would most likely produce average children. It was that time of day, when the children of Tokyo were getting out of school, rushing passed him or loitering in on the steps of stores with the intent of meeting their friends. Middle schoolers were headed home, and high school students were on their way to tutoring, cram school, or study groups.

L's hands remained shoved in his pockets as he continued passed them. Children of any age were of little interest to him, and he was rather sure the dislike was returned. If anything, their take on him was more ignorant than cruel, but just the same he quickened his step to get away from the crisp uniforms, giggles and chatter.

"Whoa, who's the foreigner?"

"He looks weird."

"Creepy! Miko-chan, walk faster."

"...He's not Japanese, is he?"

"Shut up, he's not even looking at you..."

The sounds faded away as he turned the corner to a less populated street and continued down for another several blocks, the occasional school aged little person walking by, but as he kept on his trek he could see the descent in atmosphere. The buildings were closer together, the alleyways grimy, and even the uniforms on the teenagers deteriorated from the sharp white of before to the faded low-income uniforms that had probably been passed down from one child to another. The colors seemed duller in this part of town, and there seemed to be less people in transit, not many people were walking from one place to another like L was, most were hanging out on the side of the street, perched on dumpsters or cars, sneering at him as he passed.

This was the point where Watari would get concerned. He would tell L to call the limousine and get in before someone decided he would be a good person to beat to a bloody pulp in order to get his money. But Watari always did underestimate L's fighting skills, something that he and L did not happen to have in common.

Street vendors snapped at him to buy something from them, and L ignored them as he passed. They assumed he was a foreigner that didn't know Japanese, and it was even more amusing to hear the rather rude, unoriginal names they called him in their native language because of it.

The sun was beginning to set, shadows growing all around him as the sun hit the buildings just so, the darkness of the alleys growing all the more intimidating to passersby. L's focus, however, maintained steady on the people rather than the shadows, from the woman fanning herself in her own store because he assumed she was not well off enough to afford air-conditioning, to the barely dressed teenage girl on the sidewalk across the street shouting at her boyfriend for what L presumed was an infidelity with the other barely dressed girl on his other side.

Then, on his left, was a far more familiar setting. Above the door the sign spelled out the district number and the word 'Precinct' which was more than enough to perk of L's interest, at least slightly. Tonight he would come home to the files on the case he was in Japan to work on, a brilliant con man that had taken millions right from under a large Japanese company's nose. Here were the hookers, the fools, the ignorant children that had decided to make stealing and dealing their trade...

And when he entered, pushing open the heavy doors and stepping inside to cooler air, he heard a sob story that was just that. Exactly that, in fact. Almost...strangely accurate to the mocking thought L had just been circulating.

"Please, I...I've never been in here before, you –you know that. I...I've never done anything like this before! I swear, my mom really needs the money and my friend Hanso said it'd be a fast way to get it..."

Large black eyes turned in the direction of the boy, taking in the black eye on his face and his mussed hair as well as the tears that were falling down his face. He couldn't have been more than sixteen years old, slender in frame and of average height for an Asian boy, though at his age he probably had a few more inches to grow. His face was round and youthful, and there was something genuine about the wide brown eyes that were staring up at the female officer.

"Please, my mom doesn't need this to worry about too..."

It was really quite sad.

"And Hanso will know I've given you his name if he finds out I was here..."

Terribly so...

The woman reached toward the boy and he flinched, recoiled back into his seat. Swallowing thickly and flushing,t he boy looked embarrassed about what he'd given away, and verbally defended his action.

"Sorry, I didn't mean that. I—I just, um, it's nothing."

Abuse? Perhaps. Also very common for a boy in this neighborhood...

Finally, the woman sighed, patting him on the shoulder tenderly. She was a slightly overweight female, but she appeared to be stern and strong on the outside. Of course, such a display tugged on her heart strings. "Alright, sweetie, just a warning this time. Selling heroine is no joke. I do what you to write a report about Hanso just in case."

"Y—Yes, thank you very much."

With that she was headed away, and L was about to move on. He was still in the hallway, peering out over the array of desks of criminals being processed, victims giving statements and witnesses recounting events, every officer in the place looked to be busy with more than three different tasks...

L would be glad he did not look away.

Because from beneath that mussed head of hair, those eyes narrowed and further beneath that, a smile curled at the boy's lips, a smooth smirk with a curl to it that made L's heart stutter, his thought process falter, simply because-

-for thirty-eight seconds exactly, L had believed that act too.

The boy was wiping at his eyes and a letting his face fall into the picture of serenity as another officer handed him a clipboard to write down his statement. The boy did so, and from the movement of his hand L could tell that the writing was elegant and poised, and was sure that if he were to read it there wouldn't be a spelling error in sight.

L loved to observe, but rarely did he find anything truly interesting on these little excursions. That was the entire point - to give his mind a rest before he returned to his hotel room and worked with little sleep and few breaks of any sort for weeks at a time.

But this was fascinating. He'd cried and lamented and begged, and when it had worked, he'd straightened himself up and smiled at his victory. There was a quiet intelligence in those eyes. His posture was straight backed and his chin high as he was led over to a bench to await his release, handcuffed still to the wooden arm.

There was something off about him. Although his clothes and his swagger, and even the inflection in his voice, when he spoke suggested he had little education, there was a confidence about him that had nothing to do with compensation. He was bright, unusually so, and he knew it. He was attractive, and he used it to his advantage. He knew how to grab attention as well as sympathy and he damn well got what he'd wanted. That was more than intriguing.

He was in a uniform, or at least the base of one, dark blue slacks and a white button down shirt, both of which appeared to be worn but taken care of just the same. They were not wrinkled or ripped, just weary from use, and it seemed to be from one of the better high schools in the area, though there was no callous on his fingers from the use of a pencil or apparent interest in regaining his backpack if the police had taken it to search it for drugs.

L found himself more and more curious by the minute. It would not hurt to waste a little more time on such an interesting person. After the anomaly that made the boy momentarily fascinating was revealed, he would lose interest in minutes. Then he could move on. Perhaps to more cake.

Most likely to more cake.

"How did you get that black eye?"

He started with a seemingly innocent question when he approached, sitting down in his usual fashion with his knees to his chest, beside the boy on the bench, leaving his shoes behind on the floor.

"I punched myself in the face when I saw the police..." The boy started speaking idly before trailing off, looking over at his visitor. Apparently he didn't have much interest in maintaining the secrecy of his act. "...coming."

His eyes were a lighter brown that L was used to seeing on a Japanese boy, and they took in L's posture and bare feet with distaste before continuing.

"Getting hurt myself in honor of my mother always earns points in my favor, especially with male officers. If I'd known I'd get a woman I wouldn't have bothered." He looked down at his nails, everything about him clean and just so even if his clothes were not of the highest of quality. Most people he'd seem in this area of town cared little about things like that, or had they're own tacky version of style, which L didn't really mind— he had little taste in clothes himself. "I've never gotten as far as the precinct before."

L took all of that in slowly, his own dark eyes sizing up the boy.

"What went wrong this time?"

"A betrayal that will be punished," the young boy answered smoothly. "But I'm afraid that's all the information you're getting out of me until I get something from you in return."

L paused for a moment, the only sign he gave that he was surprised by the fact the boy was being that careful.

"My name is Ryuuzaki." He offered lightly, watching the slender hands of the other soothe his wrists under the duress of the cuffs that had probably been digging into the flesh for hours.

"No, it isn't."

L blinked slowly, and didn't respond.

"But since you were kind enough to give me an alias, I'll give you mine. Toki Manoku, or at least that's the name the police think is mine." He commented off hand, speaking low enough that he couldn't be heard under the buzz of office machinery and the conversation and shouting coming from every which way. It wasn't low enough to be a whisper either, somehow more effective and less likely to call attention.

"The police believe your fake identity?" L stated the obvious after a moment's consideration. That was not an easy task. Any boy his age could receive a fake I.D., but to actually be in the system as a different person was a feat that he shouldn't have been able to pull off.

"It comes in handy."

"You're sharing a lot with a stranger, you realize," L pointed out idly, lifting his thumb to his mouth

"I've shared very little, actually," the brunette responded with a fluid motion, brushing his hair behind his ear. "I'll be released in less than three minutes, and you don't even know my real name."

That was true. But his fingerprints were on file, and L could get access to those easily.

...Wait. Was he seriously thinking of using resources just to find out the identity of some teenage criminal? It wouldn't take much to find out just who this boy was, but why was he so interested. The sharpness in those eyes had him second guessing himself because he hadn't expected to find this. He seemed out of place, like he was meant to be somewhere else, someone else, someone important, not a young boy from a dirty low class neighborhood destined for prison.

"How old are you?"

"Why does it matter?" He replied, seeming slightly exasperated with all of the questions.

"I'd assume sixteen although you look younger," L said firmly, turning his gaze up to the ceiling, "Most Asians do, thought."

A scoff from the younger of the two. "That's racist."

"No, it's factual," L replied, blinking, as though entirely taken aback by the claim. "Perhaps a bit of a generalization, but true for 84 percent of the population and therefore-"

"Therefore?" Amusement crossed the boy's face for a moment, before he shook his head, "No one talks like you do. Are you mentally challenged?"

"No, actually." L replied in, "I'm quite certain I've never met anyone who has challenged me mentally."

For a long moment, the boy stared at him, until L had to wonder if he had chocolate on his mouth from that seven layer cake slice he'd eaten at that amazing Bistro for lunch.

"You're cocky, aren't you."

"Indubitably," L nodded, digging his teeth down into the flesh of his thumb again and giving his own little smile around it, "Though I dare say not as much as you."

An elegant eyebrow cocked itself at the response, before something else seemed to catch his eye.

"Ah, there's my father now. They must have called him to pick me up." The teenager said off handedly as a man that appeared to be in his late thirties came through the door. "Why are you even talking to me?"

"Why are you stooping to selling drugs?"

"Don't answer my question with another."

L took another moment to take in that annoyance. Whoever this boy was, he was not used to being defied. Who in the world was he, and why was he dealing drugs of all things? It seemed like a waste of a mind, but then again...many a brilliant mind had been used for worse.

"Because I find you intriguing."

A small smile twisted onto the boy's face. "What are you doing here? You're too smart to be a cop, you're not a victim, or a witness...But I highly doubt you're a criminal either, since you're not here in cuffs. You're intriguing yourself, Ryuuzaki-san."

"Good to hear," L replied flippantly, gazing at the man that had been addressed as the boy's father. "It's very unlikely that he is your father. You have none of his physical traits. What high school do you attend?"

"I don't." The boy answered, looking up as an officer walked over, taking a key and kneeling to undo one of the dealer's cuffs and allowing him to stand. A bruise had formed around his pale skin, and as the officer worked on the other restraint, he added, "And even if I did attend a high school, I wouldn't tell you which. I have no intention on repeating this interaction."

There was a challenging tone to L's voice when he responded, "I think I shall find you again, Toki-kun."

The boy's brow furrowed at the name. Apparently the informality of it stroked him the wrong way. Which was fine, because not knowing someone's real name stroked L the wrong way.

"I don't think you will. As interesting as you are, this ends here."

"You underestimate me."

"I return the sentiment." The response was quick, almost a snarl. He didn't like being met head on in such a way, and L had no problem testing him. "You aren't as smart as I thought you were. If you attempt to find out any more about me, I'm afraid I'll have to consider that an attack. You don't want to fight me, Ryuuzaki-san."

Every time he said L's name, he made it sound like something unfortunate. He had the distinct impression that whoever this teenager was, he had a talent for making others feel as worthless or as useful as he wanted them to feel.

"He who strikes first wins. And I already have." L stated calmly in response to the threat, still seated, because he had no problem letting the boy tower over him if it made him feel more powerful.

"No." The young delinquent caressed the wrist with the darkest bruise around it, as the man that was not his father gestured at him to follow impatiently. Light took the moment to look over his shoulder and hiss before he left.

"He who makes his opponent fear him. He wins."

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Well, hello again, everyone.

It's been a while since I've written fan fiction, or even read fan fiction in a long time but I'm attempting to get back in the swing of things. I've missed Light and L and all those other boys a lot, as well as getting feedback. (Hint? XD)

Please don't ask about my other stories in the reviews that (I hope!) you will leave. I'm starting with something new that I hope you'll enjoy just as much as my old stories. (Now Beta'd by the lovely Artemesia)

To clear something up-Sayu doesn't exist. Soichiro died before he could get Sachiko pregnant a second time. You're free to ask more questions of course, but they'll probably be answered in the next chapter or two. The next will be in Light's POV -third person- and as you've probably already guessed, Light is not just 'some criminal'. He's gotta be the best at everything he does, pretty little bastard.

Reviews loved as always, lovers. See you soon.

Nilah
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Perfect Creature