The Soon-to-be-Named Story
By: KitKat411
The "best detective in the world,"-as he was known, anyway-stared out the window and attempted to count the clouds as they passed by his window. At over twenty thousand feet above the ground, it wasn't very difficult for said detective-known as "Ryuuzaki" or "L" to his peers-to note the clouds as they passed.
Besides, he had nothing better to do, anyway. It was either count clouds or think about being twenty thousand feet above the safe ground. Clouds or falling twenty thousand feet, pulled by the Earth's gravitational pull, and crashing. He had hypostasized that the latter option would make him sick to his stomach, and so counted each and every cloud as it passed by.
He turned to his left and stared at the passenger beside him. The detective took in the young boy's ruffled hair. The boy's hair, however, seemed to be saying "I meant to make it look like this," unlike L's own "I never brush my hair in the morning" look.
He took in the boy's face, calm and peaceful. The boy beside him had never before looked so calm; his face was always lining with a mixture of stress and agitation.
The detective watched the boy's chest rise and fall slowly, in a rhythmic pattern. Said detective marveled at this simple act of breathing, of watching this boy's respiratory system keeping the boy alive. The detective was sure if he leaned closer to the boy, he could hear the other involuntary action in the human body-a heartbeat. The detective stayed away from that, though, and instead continued to watch the boy breathe.
The detective, who had been sitting as he always did, with his knees tucked up towards his chest, began feeling a bit uncomfortable. As he adjusted his legs, however, he heard a soft tinkling noise. It was only then that the detective noted the five meter chain and the handcuff around his wrist. Following the chain links, he eventually led to the wrist of the boy next to him, whose wrist was also bound with a handcuff.
The detective, now comfortable, had gone back to watching the boy breathe. After a moment, however, said boy opened one of his eyes-amber, the detective noted, like a cat's- and stared sleepily at the detective.
"L," the boy muttered, still half-asleep, "why are you watching me sleep?"
L put his thumb in his mouth and chewed for a moment, considering his answer. "I'm not watching you sleep, Light," he said after a moment. "I'm watching you breathe."
Even drowsy, L noted the boy's-Light's-ability to look exasperated. "It's a necessary thing, breathing," he said, and closed his eyes again. "Try not to stop me from doing, it, L."
L, now fascinated by his thumb, didn't notice the boy's return to slumber. Assuming he was still conscious, L asked, "Light, why am I here?" After a moment with no reply, he turned away from his thumb, only then realizing Light had nodded off again.
L turned back to the window, though not counting the clouds. He'd lost track in his fascination with Light's breathing, and didn't want to start over. Instead, he considered his situation, and his options for getting out of said "situation." He was on a plane, flying away from his investigation team, his computer, his favorite bakery where they made the delicious chocolate cupcakes-in short; L was leaving behind everything he knew from his time in Japan. He was, instead, on an airplane without an investigation team, his computer had been confiscated due to its having "too many secrets about foreign governments,"-"It's for national security," the captain had said, snatching away L's laptop-and he was eating his thumb, not the frosting of a cupcake.
If all that wasn't bad enough, he was flying to America, of all places. America, also known as the "land of opportunity." If Light hadn't been asleep, L would have snorted at the notion. Instead, he was content to roll his large eyes. "Land of opportunity." What nonsense. "America: Land of McDonald's, fast food, and self-righteous people," would have been a better slogan. Although, L supposed, "land of opportunity" made for better PR.
Like most difficulties in his life, L could trace this problem back to Light's "girlfriend," Amane Misa. Misa had-allegedly-been offered a walk-on role on "America's Next Top Model." Never mind that Misa wasn't an American citizen, of course. The Americans had evidently forgotten another one of those pesky details that would ruin their ultimate goal.
Anyway, Misa, being the type of girl that she was, had of course leapt at the chance to be on an American television show. Even L himself had been pleased at the news. Taping for said American television show was supposed to take six weeks, and anything that would get "that cooing mess"-as L fondly referred to Misa as-out of his messy and unkempt hair was just fine with L.
Misa, however, had to spoil L's six weeks of peace and quiet. Her "weapon of mass destruction"? The "love of her life," Yagami Light.
Who happened to be attached by a metal chain to L.
Which meant that L needed to be within ten meters of Light at all times, no matter how irritating or uncomfortable.
Which meant that L was now on a plane to America, whether he liked it or not.
As far as his master schemes went, L mused, this was not one of his finest. In fact, this metal chain was really, really inconvenient to both his mental and physical state of being.
So now, L was not a happy detective.
It was bad enough, to sum up, that L was hurtling twenty thousand feet up in the air to a land he didn't care for, with people he didn't care for, and without the two things he did care for. (Those things, of course, being America, Misa, Light, his laptop, and his bakery, respectively.)
All that was bad enough, yes-but honestly, did they really have to make him fly coach?