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BY : Lux
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 964
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.



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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.



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