It was a bright, sunny day, perfectly contrasting with the dark, stormy, psychotic-ness of Light's mind. He was currently thinking about how he could prove to L that he wasn't Kira. Or kill L, either one would work. His scary darkness was interrupted by a vibration in his pocket. Light picked up his phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Light!"
Oh great, Misa. Light thought. He replied, "Yes, Misa?"
"When can we go on a real date?"
Raito sighed. "I don't know Misa..."
"How about this Saturday?"
"I'm kind of busy-"
"A movie, or a walk in the park?"
"Misa, I'm-"
"Yeah, a walk in the park would be so much more romantic than just going to a movie. You're always right! See you Saturday!"
Light snapped his cell-phone shut. He continued his walk down the street. He was on his way to get Ryuk some apples... where was Ryuk?
That's weird. Ryuk is usually always floating ominously above my head. A loud crash brought Light's thoughts back to the street.
"You are a disgrace to all fashion! Get out of my sight! Out! Out!" The Disgrace To Fashion had just been thrown through a door, and had landed face-first on the sidewalk. The man who had yelled the insult stepped out after him.
The man's bright red hair, obviously dyed, stuck out from under his neon-green fedora. He wore a purple vest, a black and turquoise striped shirt, and skinny jeans. Light tried to simply ignore the ordeal and keep on walking, but the colorfully dressed man had other plans.
The man turned to look at Light, gasped, and said, "It's perfect..."
Light continued to try to walk on by, but the man moved, blocking his path.
"You. Are. Perfect."
Well, he had already known that.
"Perfect for what?" Light asked anyway.
"Perfect for the position of poster boy of my new brand, Fierce." On the last word, the man raised his hands and made claws, scratching the air.
"I'm sorry, I don't really-" The man grabbed Light's hand and started pulling him into the building. He was surprisingly strong.
The building was quite similar to a bee-hive in several aspects. The noise, the amount of people, the speed those people were moving at, and the amount of room they had to move in. Despite this, the man dragging Light moved effortlessly through the crowd until they reached a desk.
"Sutairu Kimura, I see you've managed to find a replacement for Kenji, a very, very good replacement..." The young woman at the desk winked at Light.
"I know! Isn't he just fabulous? Anyway, can you book studio 1-A for me?" Sutairu said, as his Fabulous Replacement struggled for freedom.
The secretary spun around in her chair to a computer, typed furiously for several seconds, and then spun back around. "You've got the studio from twelve to one."
"Thank you." As Sutairu dragged Light away from the desk, he could see the secretary mouth the words call me.
"Alright, its eleven thirty. That gives me a half hour to make you Fab- U- Lous." Sutairu and Light had arrived in a room overstuffed with clothing, mirrors, and accessories.
"I thought you said I was perfect."
"You can never be too perfect. Never. Especially with ears like yours you can't."
"What's wrong with my ears?"
"They're... plain."
"Plain?"
"Don't worry, not for long!"
After a very painful few seconds, Light now had Fab-U-Lous ears. Fabulous as in pierced with black diamond studs.
"I look like an idiot." Light said, examining his ears in a mirror.
"Did I say I was done?" Sutairu flung several articles of clothing at Light. "Go! Put these on!"
Light retreated to the dressing room. He was surrounded by full-length mirrors encircled by light bulbs. His toes were buried in the plush shag carpet.
"I need to get out of here," he muttered to himself. After a pause, he let out a burst of maniacal laughter. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small piece of the Death Note he kept with him.
Heh heh... I know this guy's name and face... I will go against my code of only killing criminals, because with him out of the way, I'll have a clear path to freedom... I'll just write his name down... oh no! Light could not write the designer's name down, for he had no pen. Light searched his pockets frantically, but came up with nothing. He sighed.
A few minutes later, Light emerged from the dressing room. Sutairu practically squealed with excitement. His perfect model was dressed in Fierce brand maroon trousers with two large-zippered pockets on each leg, an argyle polo with solid black cap sleeves, and tan leather loafers.
Sutairu grabbed Light by the wrist. "Okay, party's over. Time to get to work." Sutairu pulled Light down a long hallway, and finally into a large room. Sutairu threw open the door. It slammed loudly against the wall.
Through Light's great deducting skills, he came up with this conclusion: The first four seconds of stares he received were due to the fact that Sutairu had made such a loud noise when he opened the door. In the following two seconds, sixty percent of the stares were lost. The forty percent of the stares that did not cease were being given by females under the age of thirty.
Sutairu began to drag Light across the room. A girl reached out to touch Light's hair, and Sutairu reached out and smacked her hand away.
"Hands off, ladies."
Finally, they reached their destination. Sutairu directed Light over to a large green background.
"Okay, imagine you're in a jungle, surrounded by tigers... white tigers... that's the mood you need to be in." Sutairu said softly.
"What kind of mood is that supposed to put me in?" Light asked, but he had a strange feeling that he already knew the answer.
"The mood of Fierce." Sutairu made clawing motions with his hands.
"That does not make any sense." Light shook his head. How had he gotten into this?
Sutairu flicked on a fan, causing Light's hair to be blown slightly to the side.
"Oh, yes. That is Fierce, my friend. That is Fierce." Sutairu pulled out a oversized camera, and began taking pictures. As he walked back and forth, kneeled down, laid down, and moved waaay to close Light's face, he added comments like, "Think Fierce, think Fierce," and " Work with me, work with me!"
After what felt like ages for Light, a man came over and told them that their time in the studio was up. Light gave a sigh of relief, and let Sutairu lead him out of the room without protest.
After Light had changed back into his old clothes, Sutairu walked up to him.
"You were Fierce, very Fierce."
"Gee, thanks..." Light began to walk towards the door.
Sutairu looked shocked. "And where do you think you're going?"
"Home..."
"Without this?" Sutairu held out a large envelope. Light leaned over, took the envelope, and opened it. Light's eyes widened as he examined the contents of the envelope.
Sutairu smiled. "Oh, I just knew you'd love it!"
"Its... it's very, umm..." Light did not know how to describe the gift he had received. Hot pink v-necks were not exactly what you would call Light's style.
"Just a little gift from me to you. Alright, now. We really need to discuss something."
Light sighed. "Discuss what?"
"That strange person who has been following you all day... who's right over there." He pointed to the other side of the room.
Light screamed. There, on the other side of the room, was none other than the world's greatest detective.
"Hello Light-kun." L acted as if he had never heard Light's loud scream.
"Oh, I- I was just-"
"I didn't know you modeled."
"Well, this is-"
"You two know each other?" Sutairu walked over.
"Oh yeah... we go way back." Light said. But Light's thoughts were elsewhere.
This isn't good. L might see this as some kind of desperate attempt to prove that I'm not Kira... and now, if I kill Sutairu, L will have indisputable proof that I am Kira. So if I stop modeling, he'll know that I went through this thought process, which means that I'm Kira. But... if I continue modeling, L will continue to think that I'm Kira-
"Well, I'll see you eight o' clock sharp tomorrow." Sutairu said. "Your pay-check will be arriving in the mail soon"
"But-"
"No buts! Now, go home and get your beauty sleep."
Light closed the door to his bedroom. He then let out a very sinister, very long laugh. He opened up his drawer and pulled out his DeathNote. Then he reached over and grabbed a pen from the top of his Calculus 8 workbook. He let out yet another sinister laugh.
Even if L does get indisputable proof of me being Kira, I am not modeling tomorrow. Light thought has he wrote furiously. Sutairu...oh, great...Light had the first name of his fashionable friend, but he did not have his last name. Light sighed, put away his DeathNote, and began to surf the web for some criminals to kill. That always made him feel better.
Light woke up to the sound of incredibly loud, high pitched screaming. He ran downstairs to see if his sister had stubbed her toe again, but only found his Dad staring out the window in amazement.
Light ran to the window. "What the..."
The Police Chief put his hands over his ears. "Light, I think they want you."
"What?"
"Just go Light...it's five in the morning, we need some sleep." And without further ado, Soichiro opened the door, and pushed Light out.
Light was hit with the loudest and most terrifying thing he'd ever heard: Five hundred fangirls screaming simultaneously.
Author's Note: First, I would just like to say that this whole story got started with me thinking: Wow, what if Light became a male model? But anyways, please review with criticism, praise, comments, etc.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.