Summary: Ryku doesn't quite understand why Light looks so perturbed, he thought humans liked cute animals.
AU in which shinigami must take on a corporeal form of their choice when attached to a human.
Chapter 1: Tramp
...
.
.
His first two murders had been little more than a morbid joke based on long odds.
Light never expected to strike gold.
After all, in his constant world of logic and reasoning, what sane person would have ever believed in something like this to actually work?
It was ridiculous, improbable, impossible.
But they did and had.
The daycare hostage holder's heart attack.
The motorcycle gangster's fatal crash playing out just as he'd written.
People didn't just die from having there names written and yet, he'd gained blatant proof and it opposed everything he though he understood about the world.
Light also hadn't anticipate the fall out of raw emotion that had hit him hard only to flee just as quickly as it came.
.
.
Murderer
.
Murderer
.
.
...Hero
The guilt within him had lasted for a short time—all but two days—before he'd rationalized their deaths. Would anyone truly miss these people? They were lowlifes, scum. A rapist and potential child killer. He had wiped the world clean of their existence, saved innocence. He'd done society a favor. He'd saved lives, hadn't he? It was not much different than what would have happened sooner or later without his immediate intervention. Then man at the daycare would have most likely died by cop suicide. The gangster would have been out assaulting another victim, in jail for it, or dead on the streets from a rival group of thugs.
Unwanted, unneeded.
unnecessary...
No-no, this wasn't the same. This was far better. Less lives had to be ruined this way. The world was better off without these people, would be without anyone like those two. Light's regret melted away from the surface of his mind, it's absence replaced by a cold numbness he always knew was there. It constantly lurked somewhere in the back of his mind, acknowledge but always ignored.
Light the model student.
Light the perfect child.
The shattered facades revealed the monster hidden within, peeking beneath the surface.
Light knew it, knew all to well.
He just didn't care.
This was the abilities of gods.
With the initial shock having passed, Light Yagami had seen an opportunity others could only dream of. Having the literal control over the life and death of humans with the simplest stroke of a pen. He had the power, he had the tools, and it was all begging to be applied. If he was to be the divine monster to curb the evils of society, so be it.
He had never anticipated it to work, never in his 17 years of life did he intended to become a killer. But as Light had found out quite quickly, murder is an act that gets easier with every new criminal he scrawls across the endless pages.
Life was cheap...
At the third day, Light made plans. He took names, memorized faces, and studied for his entrance exam.
By the fifth day, caught up in his fever dream of ideals, Light had pinned himself up in his room. Near silence bounced off area with nothing but the sound of his own script as he'd written name after name—at least 50 every two minutes—from a list he'd compiled. So tuned out from the world from his mad zeal, Light found a surprise waiting for him the moment his ignorance of it reached it's peak.
.
.
"You seem to be really enjoying it."
Light couldn't help when he reacted instinctively, pressing back into the chair, letting the Deathnote slipping from his grip. The words came from somewhere to his left sounding scratchy, low, and deeply amused in tone. It was like listening to a heavy smoker, but also not with how distinctively inhuman it was innature.
A shiver worked it's way up his spine.
Crazed laughter followed after, echoing off and around his room, as the creature enjoyed the spectacle it was given. Probably because the resulting outburst gave Light a little taste of just what one of his many late victims had experienced moments before their end.
But it's not that, that startles Light from his seat, shocking as it may be to find oneself suddenly saddled with unforeseen company. It's the flash of lightning, the brief view of haunting red, and the sharp pitter-patter of claws grating across the wood that gracelessly dethrones him.
Just as he quickly as he picks himself up, Light reaches for the lamp on his desk.
Something else was in the room with him.
Not being able to see it was decisively a bad position to be in.
A gentle click and Light is blessed with a much wider view of his surroundings. What he sees gives him pause for reasons wholly different that fear.
Pure, shell-shock confusion came in the form of a tiny little creature barely four feet from Light and not even knee high in stature. It stared back expectantly and stock still.
The thing—Light refused to call it a dog, no matter how persistently his mind supplied it as the easiest and most logically driven answer—cocked it's head to the side, as if puzzled in after thought.
"Dogs" didn't have red glowing eyes, didn't have that same quality of predatory intelligence that his guest held within it's gaze.
Brain recovering from that embarrassing moment of short-circuiting, Light cautiously peered back down at it for any signs of hostility.
Because this was in no way a mere ani—
And then it opened it's mouth, interrupting Lights internal though process and once again bringing his mind to a startling halt.
The last thing Light had expected was for it start pronounce fluent Japanese, recollecting and noting that the original outburst had been distinctly in English, no less.
Just like the notebook.
He didn't quite know what fate that meant for him now. There was just simply no right way to act in this contexts.
It's features morphed from delight to steadily growing disappointment. The creature's muzzle almost took on an expression similar to a doggy pout."Huh, why the face? Don't humans like these squishy creatures?" Turning in circles, it peering at itself as much as it's body would allow, noting the details of it's mostly merle diluted coat. Once satisfied, an air of contentment expressed itself upon the creature. It's ears perked up and head was held high.
"To think, if this was how I was going to be treated I might as well have come as something with a little more freedom." It huffed as if offended before turning back to the rooms other occupant, appearing the least bit put off.
It didn't matter if he'd herd that same taunting voice only moments earlier. The mouth bent and moved up and down in angles that would be physically incapable had the thing been what it appeared at first glance. Now the jaws where stretched out wide, and mouth contained far too many needle like teeth.
And, had Light not just witnessed words come from a mouth that was never meant to utter human speech, he might have though himself to have completely lost it.
Small, stubby, and appearing quite canine in form, it lazily slouch while staring back at him tauntingly. Font paws were tucked away under it's chunky little mass.
How did one go about addressing a pint sized phantom that oddly took the form of a puppy-dog of all things?
"What?" It asked again. "You look live you've just seen a demon" The thing cackled again, mocking him. Despite the strong fear that gripped him, Light felt himself grow a tad irritated at how it took pleasure in his discomfort. It was one thing to be mocked by the supernatural. It was another thing entirely to be mocked by the very same entity while it took on such an... eccentric form to do so. Humility was an emotion Light didn't enjoy residing within him in the least.
"...What are you?" He found himself asking, partially out of curiosity and partially for conformation. On the decidedly less than off chance more supernatural surprises made their way into his life, Light had anticipated the notebooks owner might "drop by" for unknown purposes. Perhaps steal his soul, kill him, eat him, or preform some other form of punishment for playing with things best left beyond the reach of man. He been just stumped as to what to do then as he was now.
Light just never assumed it would come for him looking like this. He had honestly expected something more along the looks of a lovecraftian esque horror with a lot less fur and a lot more mass.
After a brief moment of contemplation, it spoke. "Why I am the former owner of that Death Note, Ryuk."
Former?
The silent question hung in the air between the pair. Ryuk made no move to elaborate, leaving Light to take command of the conversation and pry what he could from the cryptic being.
.
.
.
Ryuk, as Light was to discover next, had a terrible sense of humor and an ever growing taste for apples...
A/N: plz, send help.
I'm not entirely sure what I'm even getting myself into. All I know for sure is that my head is a weird place.
A really, really weird.
Pupper Powr
12/23/16 revised for grammar mistakes and sentence structure for better story flow. Fill free to point out what I don't catch.