Author's note: This story, "The Top of the Class," is entirely separate from my other work, "Shadows of Innocence," though it will feature occasional references and nods to it.
"The Top of the Class" is set in an alternate universe where there is no Death Note, and L and Light are the same age.
Chapter One: The Challenge Begins
Standing in front of the bulletin board used to be Light's favorite spot. It was where he'd routinely glance at the test results, always finding his name proudly perched at the top with a perfect score. The only blemish on his record had been an A- in Art, a fact he dismissed as the result of an unfair restriction against using his dominant left hand. Still, Light was always the top student—not just in his grade, but in the entire school.
That was until the exchange student arrived, the one who had toppled him from his long-held position. Now, that very student stood beside him, dark eyes fixed on the same bulletin board, hands shoved into the pockets of his oversized brown uniform trousers. Light could feel the presence of this new rival but refused to acknowledge it with even a glance.
The end of July used to bring smug satisfaction. Light would think, I'm smarter than everyone else, and no one will ever catch up. But everything had changed when L arrived in April. Light still wasn't sure if it was a nickname or simply a unique name his parents had given him. Initially, Light hadn't paid him much attention. L's unkempt hair and indifferent demeanor grated on him. He had been assigned a desk in the far corner of the classroom, and Light had ignored him until he realized the threat he posed. The turning point came when the teacher wrote the Riemann Hypothesis on the board. The Riemann Hypothesis is a conjecture in mathematics that proposes all non-trivial zeros of the Riemann zeta function lie on a specific line in the complex plane, a problem that has puzzled mathematicians for over a century. It was L who, in a monotone voice, solved it, breaking the silence of the room.
Light had blinked in surprise, hand falling from his cheek as he turned to see L slouched at his desk, knees drawn up and head resting wearily on his hand.
Who is this guy? He hasn't spoken a word all this time.
"It looks like I beat you," L mumbled now, standing beside him at the bulletin board in the hall. Light felt a surge of irritation, but his expression remained composed.
"You're right," Light replied with a courteous smile, carefully curving his lips upward. He never lost his composure. He wouldn't. "Well done. You must have studied hard."
L shrugged, his eyes barely lifting to meet Light's. "Not really. I find studying quite boring."
Was Light irritated? Absolutely. Was he going to show it? No. He swallowed his frustration as a girl in front of the crowd gathered around the board shrieked, "I got an F! No, that can't be right. I need to speak with the teacher!" She shoved her way out of the crowd, knocking into students and sending some stumbling.
Light felt someone crash into him before he had a chance to react. When he looked up, stunned, he found himself face-to-face with none other than L.
"You know," Light mumbled. "I think we can get up now."
L's wide eyes mirrored his own surprise as chaos continued around them. Students yelled after the girl who had caused the commotion.
"Hey, watch where you're going!" someone shouted.
L slowly pushed himself to his feet and, to Light's reluctance, extended a hand. After a brief hesitation, Light took it. The other students scrambled upright as one hurried off to chase after the girl.
"Ah, thanks," Light muttered, brushing himself off.
"You're welcome," L responded, his voice as flat as ever.
"My name's Light, by the way."
"I already know that," L replied without a hint of emotion. "We're in the same class, and I can see your name on the test score sheets."
"Well, I never formally introduced myself," Light said, a forced smile playing on his lips.
"But I already know your name."
Light clenched his jaw, irritation simmering beneath his polite facade. "Well... Nice to meet you," he mumbled, clearly not meaning a word of it, and turned to walk away.
As Light passed by the other students, he could hear whispers start to rise. "Someone finally beat Light," they murmured.
Lunch was no better. Light got his meal, pretending not to notice the stares, the fingers pointing in his direction. The cafeteria, already a place he detested, now felt suffocating. He scanned the room, trying to find a table where no one was talking about him. But everywhere he looked, they were.
What was his next move?
Confront the source of the problem. If you can't beat your enemy, join them, as the saying went.
Light set his lunch tray down next to L.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, feigning casualness.
L looked up, eyes meeting Light's with a hint of surprise. "Oh... Light. Sorry—Yagami-kun."
"Light's fine," Light said, sitting before L could even respond.
He sipped his miso soup, hoping the gossip would die down by tomorrow. But that didn't solve his real problem: he had a new rival sitting right in front of him.
I will beat you, L. I can't let you score higher than me.
"So," Light began, forcing a polite tone, "Where are you from?"
"England," L replied, his gaze absent as it remained on his food.
"Why did you come to Japan?"
"My parents died. My grandfather lives in Tokyo, so I moved here."
Light's appetite vanished instantly. He chewed slowly, his chopsticks faltering as he set them down. "I didn't mean to... that's awful."
It was not the response Light had anticipated. He'd made a social misstep, and now the conversation was headed into somewhere awkward.
"It's alright," L said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Talking about it doesn't change anything. Besides," he added quietly, "you didn't know."
There was a pause. Light met L's gaze. Despite being the same height, L's slouched posture made it seem as though Light was towering over him as L absentmindedly picked at his rice.
"It must be hard," Light said carefully, his inner politeness clashing with his competitive nature. "Maybe... we could be friends. If you need someone to talk to—"
"Friends?" L repeated thoughtfully. "I've never had a friend."
"Then, I can be your first," Light offered, his voice lacking the usual confidence.
"No," L corrected. "What I meant was, I don't want to have friends. I prefer being alone."
Light faltered, the conversation now veering wildly off track. He felt as though he was in the middle of a wreck, and even he was unsure how to salvage it. "In any case," he continued hesitantly, "we're classmates. If you ever need help with anything, I'm here."
He attempted a weak smile, but L just stared at him for a moment before returning to his meal.
"If you say so."
Light shoved his books into his backpack, mood darkening as the librarian ushered him out of the school library. He'd stayed back to study for two extra hours, determined to absorb as much information as possible. It had been a fruitless exercise—his mind was clouded with thoughts of his new enemy. Was it fair to try and beat someone who's parents had just died? That was a very morally grey question, but it wasn't going to stop Light from trying. In fact, he couldn't.
With a sigh, he slung his backpack over his shoulder, stuffing his other hand into his pocket. The rain outside had intensified, but Light welcomed it. If nothing else, it would cool his simmering frustration. He could feel it creeping under his skin, driving him to near obsession. He needed to beat L.
As he stepped outside, the downpour soaked him instantly. Light blinked against the heavy drops, suddenly realizing just how bad the rain had become. With a groan, he turned back, storing his books in his locker. He didn't mind getting drenched, but he wasn't about to let the rain ruin his books and notes. A night of studying would be lost. He should have left earlier, after all.
Walking out into the rain, he squinted through the curtain of water. He was halfway across the schoolyard and that was when he heard it.
Thud. Thud.
A rhythmic sound, faint against the pounding rain.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Light's gaze shifted toward the tennis courts. There, a lone figure stood, hitting the ball against the wall. The student was soaked through.
Light opened his mouth, hesitated, then called out, "L?"
L didn't seem to hear him, continuing to hit the ball with methodical precision, seemingly lost in his own world.
Sighing, Light pushed open the gate and walked onto the court. The creak of the gate finally caught L's attention, and he turned.
"What are you doing?" Light asked.
L blinked. "What are you doing?"
"I asked first."
"Practicing."
"In the rain?"
L shrugged. "Where I come from, it's always raining."
Light frowned. "This is summer rain. If you stay out here, you'll catch a fever."
"No," L corrected him calmly. "A fever only occurs if you're exposed to a virus or bacteria. A decreased body temperature would only increase my chances of that happening."
Light clenched his teeth in annoyance. Semantics. Could he be any more irritating?
His eyes caught on a pile of tennis rackets, left behind by the PE students. Without thinking, Light walked over, picked one up, and tossed the ball L had just missed in the air.
"Fine," he said. "If you get sick, don't say I didn't warn you."
Light was excellent at tennis—the best in the school. He wasn't going to let L take this victory from him as well.
"Let's play." Light tossed the ball up and caught it. He pushed his wet hair back from his face, his damp clothes clinging to him, and waited for L to take his position on the other side of the court. L hesitated, then slowly made his way to the opposite side.
"Won't you get a fever too?" L asked him.
"I can't just let you play out here on your own."
"How thoughtful." The words were delivered with a lack of warmth.
"Ready?" Light asked, his voice laced with challenge. The tennis racket hung loosely by L's side, as if it were just another accessory. Light served with a practiced elegance, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. In one smooth, fluid motion, L raised his racket and returned the ball with such force that it crashed into the cage. Light stood frozen, his eyes wide with astonishment. He blinked, trying to comprehend the sheer speed of the return. His throat tightened.
"I was the British junior champion," L said flatly, addressing the question Light's stunned silence had left unspoken. "You might want to consider playing with someone else."
Light's frustration was palpable as he retrieved the ball, his mind racing. British junior champion? Of course he was. Was there anything this guy couldn't do?
"You're really good," Light admitted grudgingly, admiration lacing his tone. "I didn't expect that kind of hit."
Determined to make a comeback, Light bounced the ball a few times, preparing to deploy a "topspin lob"—a notoriously difficult shot to counter. He aimed to finally gain the upper hand.
However, as the game progressed, Light found himself gasping for breath. Every shot he made was met with L's returns.
"Draw?" L asked after forty drenched minutes, his tone nonchalant. Light sank onto the damp bench, catching his breath as the rain subsided to a gentle drizzle. He watched the droplets create tiny splashes on the concrete, his mind riddled with exhaustion.
"This brand is my favorite," L remarked casually, reaching for the racket Light had been using, his fingers lingering on Light's as he took the racket. "My previous school also had them." Light was met an unexpected jolt of electricity. His face flushed, and he felt an unusual warmth despite the cool rain.
Still processing the physical sensation of their touch, Light managed a faint smile. "Don't get used to me being easy competition," he said, trying to steady his voice despite the flutter in his chest.
L's gaze remained steady, "I wouldn't dream of it."
Light wondered why his heart was racing so intensely in the rain, especially since L was his rival—and a guy, no less. Was this a sign that teenage hormones were finally catching up with him? The sensation was disconcerting.
L stood and offered out his hand, for the second time that day. Light stared at it, afraid that if he touched it he might feel something again. He swallowed the fear down, and took it anyway. He was relieved that this time nothing happened. Maybe it was nothing.
"Now we're both soaked," L mumbled. "I guess we should be going home."
"Yeah," Light agreed.
"My house is that way," L pointed after they had been walking for ten minutes. Light's home was only a fifteen-minute walk from school, but unfortunately, most of their route had overlapped.
"Mine's over there," Light said, nodding in the opposite direction. "I guess we don't actually live that far apart, but we've never crossed paths before."
"I usually stay back after school," L said, then suggested, "Maybe we could meet up tomorrow morning and walk together."
Now that Light thought about it, L also often arrived late to class.
"I thought you didn't want friends?"
"I don't," L replied, tilting his head slightly. "But it would make the walk less boring."
Was that supposed to be a compliment?
"Alright… I leave ten minutes early," Light said cautiously. "If you happen to be going the same way, then sure." He was skeptical, as he assumed L was the kind of person who was rarely on time for anything.
L extended his hand, as if expecting a handshake. Light glanced at it, then nodded. "See you tomorrow," he said, turning to walk away.