Here we go again! I'd like to thank those who are reading this story. This was suppossed to be the last chapter, but I want to add a little tad of Mello/Matt to the cocktail, so one thing has led to another :)

I hope you like this chapter. Next one will be the finale, and this time I mean it :)

Summary: Enemies

NOT HIS BIGGEST FANS #4

There were different types of enemies.

Light was skimming the pages of a treaty in computational geometry when the idea came unbidden to his mind. He stood up from the ergonomic office chair and peeked at the neat workplace, deep in thought. He sat down again, took a sketch book and one of the pencils from the holder. He drew a perfect circle freehand, calculated the diameter, and drew it as well. Antipodal point of a point, diametrically opposed. Those were worthy opponents, enemies who always looked at each other's eyes, always watching. That sort of rivals respected one another, their ideologies could not be that estranged, but acted on them from different points of views, by means which would grow more and more incompatible. They would push their foe's limits. They would be playing a relentless tug of war until one of them was destroyed or both charged forwards and crashed into each other so that the opposition became a conjunction. Deep inside, Light suspected that L and he could have been that kind of enemies if they had met in a world where their goals had clashed. He was grateful that it had not been the case. He would rather pull L into him and enjoy his lover pushing him in a more physical and pleasurable way.

He drew a new circle and several geometric shapes. The vast majority of enemies lived in angles. Their feelings could vary from mere indifference to disgust or hatred. Their actions could also vary in intensity, from avoidance to aggression. Their relationship might change overtime. Maybe the departure point was something stupid. In the end, they were mean and ordinary. There was nothing special about them.

Finally, he drew two concentric circles. Even with the same centre point, these foes would never meet. They were alien to the other, anathema. They could be running clockwise or counter clockwise and never reach a common understanding because they had been born with an innate instinct of enmity against the other. A confrontation between these enemies could make for a playwright which would be more likely a farce than a tragedy. He stared at the drawing and sighed in exasperation.

L was the centre point, and Light and Mello were the concentric circles.

...

Twenty-three days after Light had been formally introduced to the four successors, L decided to get them together for a practical task. The chosen case was the Kira one. L gave the students some information about the tactics and specifics of the investigation, and asked them to think of ways to sort out some of its problems. Light gave them some directions, then he stood listening to their opinions. Linda's answers were not accurate, though she offered some creative ideas which could be worth trying in the future. Matt was only interested in the technology they had used. Near's deductions showed great precision; not perfect yet, but wait a few years and they would have a first-rate mind. Regarding Mello, Light did not really care for his answers, but for his attitude. Since that first growl, the youngster had realised that he would be not able to get on with him no matter what. Although he was hard-working and ambitious, virtues in Light's eyes, he was also moody, overemotional, and unstable. He tried too eagerly to catch L's attention; he was too loud. He was too much of anything that Light found annoying in a person. It did not help that the dislike was mutual.

Giggles and chuckles made the youth get back to the present moment. It took him a few seconds to remember that L had told the kids to imagine what would happen if one of the people in the room were Kira.

"So?" L asked.

Mello winked at Matt and Linda. "Were Kira among us, Light Yagami would be the only possible victim. All of us know his full name."

Light frowned. L looked at him with an apology dancing in his blank expression. With Light's outstanding curriculum, information about him had found its way through the academic circles in Japan and into the clutches of anyone who knew how to hack computers and read the Japanese language. That kanji gift and the sudden interest of the successors in learning Light's mother tongue made new sense. No need to use a fake identity to apply to Oxford evermore.

Light knew how to behave. He measured his words and replied, "Don't forget that my work made a mark in the Kira investigation. It is unlikely I might be an easy prey."

"Besides, your assumption has at minimum two flaws," L added.

"Were L Kira, everyone here would be a potential victim. He knows all of our names," Near stated.

"Don't say stupid things. L would never be Kira," Mello exclaimed. "Anyway, I see the point. The other main flaw is the possibility of Yagami being Kira. However, that would mean that he could not kill any of us, for he does not know our names." The giggling resumed.

Light summoned his most charming smile. "Maybe you are right. Nonetheless, you should know that in his last days, Kira developed the ability to kill just by looking at a face."

Gasps replaced the chuckles.

"And this is an excellent topic for an assignment," L said. "I want you to write an essay on the issue taking into account this last piece of knowledge. Now you can keep on with your other tasks."

The kids left the room, not before Mello had changed his stormy look for an adoring grin at L. What a pest. The chat among the students lingered after them.

"Yagami could make a convincing criminal, couldn't he?"

"Yep, he tries so much to be so perfect."

"Suspicious."

L smiled. "It is great they second-guess everything. Your being here is making them sharper."

Not much enthusiasm could be found in Light's nod.

...

"Mello tries too hard to get noticed," Light said nonchalantly as he chose the jacket he was going to wear that day.

L had just taken a shower and was still in the bathroom. His voice sounded muffled through the closed door. "I agree he is very competitive."

"He tries too hard to get noticed by you."

"I embody the goal he strives to reach."

Light remembered the times the boy had interrupted them with a poor excuse, the times he had appeared out of nowhere to show off before L, the times he had just clung to the detective one way or another. "It's not only the mantle. He idolises you."

The door of the bathroom opened. Clouds of steam and white towels followed the older man into the bedroom. "Although I am positive that is too bold a statement, it is widely acknowledged that young apprentices often get attached to a mentor they admire. It will not last."

Despite his words, some concern was indicated by the tone and the glazed eyes, a hint of past memories. Nevertheless, it was getting hard for Light to focus on the issue when L was in front of him enwrapped by the steam, half-naked, water drawing rivulets across his chest and flat stomach, aiming to his navel. There was something about the mix of L plus wetness that always made Light's blood run hot in his veins.

"That makes sense," he gave in.

He also gave in to the desire to lick the drops of water from every inch of his lover's skin.

...

"Doubles. A senior and a junior in each team."

That was exactly the twelfth time Mello had suggested the same. Light had been able to dodge the idea for a month. By L's humming, the youngster foresaw there would not be a way to avoid it that time around.

"Only if everyone agrees in playing as a way of having fun and not for further competition," L warned.

"Absolutely!" Mello yelled. It seemed that the boy could only function in three modes: Unashamedly Overexcited about Anything and Everything L Said and Did, Mad Dog, and Silently Scheming Light's Downfall.

"We can't count on Linda. She must rest for the impending athletics competition," the detective added.

"I see. So, I will play with you, L. Near can play with Yagami," Mello proposed. If Light had not hated clichés, he would have rolled his eyes.

"I am not playing. If I must lose, I'd prefer to choose my colleague-in-defeat myself," Near replied without standing up.

Instead of fuming, the blond kid laughed out loud. His reaction caught everyone by surprise. Perhaps the boy's only mode was Unpredictably Unstable. L worried his thumb happily and eyed Light. He knew the meaning of his gaze, They are getting along better thanks to you. Maybe shared contempt could make people get closer. Maybe rolling eyes were not clichéd enough to be above Light.

"Alright, it is Matt then," Mello said, voice still shaking with laughter. Matt opened his mouth to argue. He thought twice, shut it down and left his games aside.

There they went. Neither Matt nor Mello were good at playing tennis, for both favoured football. The difference stood in their attitude on the court—whereas Mello asked once and again for L to teach him how to serve or move, Matt basically ignored any feedback Light gave to him. Soon it got clear that the only ones who were playing a game of tennis were the adults. Matt was acting like a fool—a dangerous fool who had Light ducking the redhead's racket most of the time. Mello was focused on making all of his shots a threat to Light's physical integrity. After a while, he lost patience and stroke back. A striking volley and the tennis ball hit the blond nuisance's face. He swore in a foreign language, L approached to see what had happened, Light feigned worry while he rejoiced inside.

Clank.

He saw the flying racket which he had escaped in the very last second hit the ground and could not believe his eyes.

"Sorry, dude. I'm so clumsy," the bloody redhead apologised.

"It is nothing, L. I'm fine, I'm strong," the bloody blond cooed. When the detective moved away, Mello granted Light a murderous look.

Mercifully, the rain finished the match soon after. While they were leaving the court, Mello started yelling—again.

"Look at the score, L! We've won!"

Matt had run away, Near was nowhere to be seen, and Light stood in the middle of the court seeing the scrawny beast patting L's back, touching his arm, stealing some contact suspiciously similar to a hug.

Light narrowed his eyes. Uneasiness took hold of him.

What was the kid's age, exactly?

...

Since that day, the youth did not refrain from using his brilliancy to get the annoying kid in his place. Two could play the same game.

...

The problem with moody people lay in the fact that they did not always react according to plan.

Save the four successors, none of the children knew L's real identity. That had given way to funny theories. The most widespread was the one Matt had also believed in, that L was a complex illusion orchestrated by Watari. Another theory pointed out at L being Roger's oddball of a nephew, Rob, who could be seen coming round the place from time to time. Ironically, that Rob was actually L disguised as the caretaker's relative. The third one assured that the detective was the friendly foreign teacher who spent half a year at Wammy's and half a year overseas. Light learnt that he was the sleuth formerly known as Eraldo Coil. The man had lost his alias and a detective war against L while gaining a new vocation—good thing an adult at Wammy's really enjoyed working with children.

Other hypotheses also caught fire here and there. The current hype involved Light being L. Depending on the day, the youth spent his time subtly feeding the children's gossip or pretending he did not know a word about it. If his lover found the situation uncomfortable, he did not let it show. From his lack of remarks, Light understood it amused him.

Not everyone took it L's way. By not everyone, he meant the blond pest.

He had finished giving a lecture and was walking down one corridor when he found Mello munching some chocolate, waiting for him, as awful an image as it could be. As he saw Light, he began mumbling in Russian. At least, he was not calling him names. Light had come to recognise expletives in seven different languages since he had had the misfortune of crossing ways with the boy.

"Provided you are skipping classes, I presume you have an important message to deliver," Light said with faked patience. "It would be more courteous and effective to deliver it in a language I could fully understand."

The kid gave an angry bite to what was left of the chocolate bar and spat, "You are not L. You will never be."

Here we go, Light thought. He had seen it coming.

"I know. I am proud of who I am. I am not the one who strugles to be someone else." He knew that the words would cut the kid like daggers. He did not care. He was fed up with him and his pathetic fixation.

Mello's face became a mask of rage. The tantrum would follow it—the same old song. It had been entertaining for a while to use the kid's inferiority complex to provoke that kind of reaction. It was growing old nonetheless, and Light had better things to do.

"I must go, Mello. If you don't have anything else to say, duties must be accomplished." He resumed walking.

"I have never beaten him."

Light stopped. "Excuse me?"

"I have never beaten Near."

To be fair, that was not true. As L had stated, Mello had skills that the albino lacked. However, Light was not going to lend him a hand. "I understand it is not easy. It must be embarrassing to be beaten by someone who is younger."

Mello smirked viciously. "You nailed it."

Next thing, Light found himself trying to stop the whirlwind of claws and kicks and punches that were unleashed against him. As he dodged and swerved and took some blow or another, his mind handled many thoughts at once. How could the boy look so scraggy and hit so hard? Was it alright to hit back when he was supposed to be the responsible adult? And how had he missed the real meaning behind the 'beaten' part? And could he remember if he had ever felt so enraged before?

People arrived, hands and arms struggled to separate the fighters. There were shouts, grumbles, cursing, kicking, and then it was over.

Later on in the infirmary, Light was still trying to calm down his anger and embarrassment. They had placed the two patients in different rooms, so he did not have to bear the mad dog's presence. Some small comfort.

A soft knock on the door announced L's arrival. He took a chair and crouched beside the bed where the youth was sitting down.

"I told you, L. That boy hates me."

L was infuriatingly composed. "It was a stupid quarrel. Physical damage is minimal, just a few bruises and scratches. It is highly probable he did not mean to hurt you. You did not mean to hurt him either."

"He bit me!" Light fumed.

"Do you want to be vaccinated against rabies?"

Light groaned. The detective's poor attempt at lighten up the mood had failed spectacularly. He acknowledged it and tried to make for it.

"We do not condone his behaviour. Both Watari and Roger have talked to Mello and scowled him. I will talk to him as well, we will look for solutions. Anyway, we should display some sympathy. We know how hormones can be a hindrance in our teenage years. Biology, the natural world must be taken into account. Nowadays Mello is the oldest of the kids. He might have the need to clash horns with another strong male to prove a point—the young male defying the old one over territory."

Light did not reply. He stood up from the bed and threw his fist against the detective's face. He took him off guard, so L was thrown away backwards because of the strength of the blow.

"Ouch! What was that for?" L looked shocked.

"Blame my hormones, I'm still a young adult. Blame natural instinct. The young alpha male must defy the old one!" Light shouted.

For the first time since he had known him, L did not retaliate.