Author's Note: So...I can explain! I lost a lot of inspiration for this story, but that's not the real reason for not updating it in so long. In reality, I had placed Life Note as a top priority story and only updated that for quite a while. Now, I'm placing this, Wo-Man, and Death Machine at top priority. This mostly 'cause I already have quite a bit written. I have this chapter, next, and part of the next Entry written. Yay!

To recap so you don't have to reread the past few chapters: Last chapter was Light's journal entry saying that he's begun tutoring Mello in Calc. He's still depressed and seems to be getting worse...We left L off having breakfast with Light two/three days ago ((in their world, obviously)). He knows nothing about Light and Mello's interraction. He's still clueless, but this chapter, he'll gain some insight into Light's mind. It is a very...interesting chapter.

Warnings: Depressing thoughts, obviously. L is continually OOC, but this chapter is the beginning of trying to get him back on track ((or at least, Watari wants that...)). I'm sorry if his character seems so...well, OOC...But it does go to show how much Light has changed him.

Disclaimer: While I DO own this idea and plot of this story, I do not own the idea or plot or anything else behind Death Note. I also apologize for any incorrect jargon used for something that I won't give away.

Chapter 8

This morning, I've decided to join Light for breakfast. I've been neglecting him as of late. He's had two days of school now, so I also wish to hear how that has gone…from his perspective.

I've gotten the teachers' points of view. Several said that he's probably a very bright student, but need to both concentrate more and actually try to work. It seems that he has given up, school-wise. This is not good. This is certainly not like him.

One of the staff that watches over the students in the dining hall has reported that he east alone at every meal. I cannot have this! If he wishes to recover—which I hope so—then he must actually try. He's a social person; he needs friends. My top successors are out of that idea immediately, as none appeared particularly nice to him. In my free time, I will look over the files of those Light's age and find potential friends.

In the meantime, skipping out on forty-five minutes of working shouldn't be too bad. Just breakfast with Light shouldn't be too much of a wasted time. In fact, the small break in the morning should raise my accomplishments later in the day by quite a significant figure. I will consume calories without immediately thinking them off—storing for later, possibly when waiting for Watari to bring me more cake—as well as spend time with Light.

That should raise my work ethic quite a bit. If I work to solve cases in Light's honor, try to bring justice to the world, perhaps for his world, then I could work that much more efficiently.

And it is through this reasoning that I find myself walking into the dining room this morning. Looking around, I see Light sitting at a table occupied by nobody else. It both shocks me and doesn't. After all, according to my resources, he does eat alone. I guess just actually seeing it in person gets to me.

As I head towards the food, wishing to grab some breakfast before sitting with Light, so he has no excuse to shoo me away, I notice something peculiar.

Mello walks up to Light, says something to the older teen, and then walks away after Light replies, nodding his head. What just happened? What was that exchange? Did something happen between the two of which I'm unaware?

I begin to gather food on a plate as I think. Mello is a proud boy who, once set on something, will not easily give in. He prides himself in his appearance, both physical and how he presents himself with others. He's bright and would never take the help of someone else unless desperate. I knew offering the tutoring from Light would be useless with him, but it was worth a shot…perhaps.

But, then why would he act so cordial towards Light when they both exhibited such hatred towards each other before?

On my way towards Light's table, I freeze. They both hated each other because they both viewed the other as competition (for what, I do not know). They both are extremely prideful, vain, and stubborn. How I just described my possible successor also describes Light. Perfectly.

The answer hits me as I sit across the table from Light. He looks up, surprised. "Good, morning, Light-kun," I say mechanically.

"G-good morning," he manages out, muffin poised halfway towards his mouth. I notice it's not nuts, but raisins dotting the top. His eyes seem so innocent in this moment. Has that Yearning finally been stifled now that he has been moved?

No, spoke too soon.

He looks at me skeptically, through the Yearning. "What brings you here?" he asks, suspicious of my intentions. He has every right to be.

With a pout, and a bit of pudding in my mouth, I reply, "I simply wished to check upon Light-kun. Is that a problem?" He huffs, but goes back to his breakfast.

The treason Light and Mello seem to hate each other so much is because they're so similar. They can be either the worst of enemies— hating each other because of self-esteem issues perhaps— or the best of friends.

Did something happen that is causing that friendship to form? I sure hope so. Maybe it is better to leave Light alone for a while longer and see where this goes. Mello could actually do him good…as long as he doesn't corrupt him…

Eventually, Light glances at one of the numerous clocks dotted about the room's walls. He stands at once, empty plate in hand. "I have to get to class," he says before walking away.

All through our time eating together just now, neither of us spoke. Instead, we listened to the dull hum of the dining room, taking in the conversations of those around us, knowing all of them were meaningless babbles.

To Light, they probably were. I, on the other hand, sometimes enjoy hearing what normal children and teenagers talk about, knowing that some people out there live lives away from violence, crimes, and murder. Those very things to which I must get back or this day will be a waste.

I walk slowly and delicately through the crowded pre-school-day hallways until I reach my quarters. I hate people touching me, giving me germs that could easily and swiftly hinder me. And human contact is too foreign to me already; it's hard to get used to it now, after so many years. Light is giving that contact now, but only barely. It still cannot make up for my twenty-four years prior, though.

Once in my room, dark curtains covering the windows, computer laying in wait in the center of the room, I begin my work again. I find the most gruesome of cases to solve. No mystery can ever stump me, no man can ever evade me, no mind can I not solve.

So, why are Light's thoughts evading me? Why is he such an impossible boy to solve?

Wait, no, concentrate on work. That breakfast break was supposed to give me more brain energy. Still, I cannot concentrate, and by noon, I must stand and stretch my legs. Thoughts of Light continue to fill my mind and it begins to anger me.

On my way out of my room and down the hallway, I pass Watari with a cart of sweets for me. I grab an ice cream cone, scoop my own ice cream, and proceed down the hall. He questions where I am going, but I wave him off and continue walking.

By the time I get to the cafeteria, the ice cream is devoured and the cone is almost gone as well. I pop the last bit into my mouth and chew it as I wade through the tables to Light's usual, empty one. The lone figure sends a pang through my chest, but I keep going until I reach him.

His plate is almost empty, so he must be close to finishing. I stand a moment more behind him, but he soon notices me and begins to turn around. At this moment, I grab one of his forearms and swing him around in his seat to face me.

With a very shocked look on his face, Light demands, "What are you doing?"

As I begin walking, I answer him simply, "I'm restless, you don't have a class next hour, and we both need exercise. Tennis it is then."

He stares in awe at me, being dragged along towards the basement and indoor gym and courts—it's still too chilly out to play outdoors. "I thought I told you: no tennis!" he cries.

I freeze and he almost crashes into me. "And why not?" I shout back. He does not move.

While we only stand here for about a minute, in the tense silence, it seems like hours. Normally, time moves much too quickly for me; there aren't enough hours in the day. Now, all I want is to speed it up.

Finally, Light sighs in defeat and side steps me. I stare after him in wonder, but he soon turns around and questions, "Well, aren't you coming?" His voice is quiet, just as defeated as that sigh. I quickly catch up and we walk together to the basement.

While we change—after I show him around the locker rooms, since he doesn't take a physical education class—I contemplate what just happened. Light gave in…again. What is wrong with him? Wasn't he a champion tennis player in junior high? What would cause him to refuse to play now? But then again…I mentally freeze. His parents. Did they push him too far in that, too?

Still, we walk onto the court, a few other students playing on surrounding courts. When I hand him his racket, he stares at it for a minute. He then gains some sort of resolve in his eyes and weighs the racket, swinging it around a bit. It's not brand new, but still in fairly good condition.

I do the same and then we head to our sides of the court. Once there, we dour own warm-ups and stretches. He focuses a lot on his legs, I notice, particularly his ankles. The wheels in my head begin to turn.

Perhaps he didn't just quit at the top because of the pressure. There had to be a real reason for someone like Light. A broken ankle would be a perfect excuse. Nevertheless, there were no broken bones on any of his medical records. So, the possibility of a broken ankle could cause a brilliant tennis player to quit. Was this worry the reason he refused to play me at first?

Once done warming up, we face each other from our respective ends. I must look a little smug because his eyes turn hard.

He points his racket at me and snarls across the court at me in Japanese, "You picked the wrong sport, Ryuzaki! Prepare to be beaten by a champion!"

I smile back and reply in English, "I'll have you know I was a junior high champion here in England. Perhaps it is who will be vanquished." With a small smirk, I bounce the ball several times before shooting it over the net.

We lose ourselves to the game, playing best of three—couldn't take too long; Light still has a few classes after this. But neither of us pay attention to time. All that matters is hitting that flying ball and winning.

Eventually, other students and teachers—the ones who were playing before and some who've just come here to work out—crowd around the court. Nevertheless, I refuse to lose concentration. Same with Light.

I win the first game, Light the second. It all rides on this last volley. Who will win? I say I will. After all, he who moves first wins. But Light has gained much confidence through the past two games and might still beat me. I haven't played in much longer time than he has and my body is older, too. Though that shouldn't affect my abilities too much…yet.

I am sweating by now, and so is Light. In fact, breathing is harder than normal for me. I grunt as I hit the ball, the swing pulling my arm. Light shoots the ball back to my side and I rush to get it, reaching out so I don't miss. A sinking feeling beings in my gut as I realize I'm not going to make it. I'm going to lose.

Still, I keep going, refusing to go down without a fight. The familiar, but surprising feeling of the ball meeting my racket shocks me. Light is quite shocked too. He obviously was just thinking I was going to miss, so was not prepared for me to send it back. He quickly turns to run for the ball, but already knows, as I do, that this time, it is futile. It is beyond impossible to get that ball.

As he turns, he stumbles, but continues to chase the ball. There's an obvious limp in his right leg, but it doesn't stop him. He doesn't stand a chance and the ball crashes into the wall behind him.

Looking utterly defeated—whereas, years ago, I know he would have just seemed slightly put off and angry—he limps over to the net to shake my hand. I shake it warmly and congratulate him on such a fantastic game.

"We must do this again. With more practice, you should be at the top of your game once more," I say as we push through the small crowd of onlookers to get to the locker rooms, not caring about the praise and hyped talk coming from them. "But I won't let you compete, so don't worry. You only have to worry about playing me." I think that should make him feel better.

His eyes do brighten just slightly, but I see the Yearning yet again. I just can't figure it out. For what does he wish this much?

I tell him that I will have his gym clothes washed as soon as possible and we shower and change. He is late to his next class—by quite a bit of time—so he tries running. But that limp is still there, so I lead him somewhere else.

Immediately, Light understands and follows, albeit unwillingly. "No," he mutters under his breath in Japanese. "No, this can't happen. Come on, what am I supposed to do now? Why didn't I just listen to that damn doctor?"

So, I was correct in my assumption that Light was warned against playing tennis anymore when he was younger because of his ankles. When we reach the infirmary, and the doctor—yes, we have a doctor, since this is an institution that houses children and myself indefinitely—is about begin his examining Light, she asks him if he wants me to leave. Light stares at me a moment, the Yearning quite plain in his eyes. But, he answers, "Ryuzaki, could you please wait outside?"

I oblige and wait anxiously. Soon, I contemplate calling Watari to bring my laptop for me to work, but at that moment, the door behind me opens.

"Ryuzaki," the doctor beckons me in. "Light is very lucky. His ankle is only slightly sprained, but nothing is broken. However, he explained that he's had problems in the past. I suggest orthotics to strengthen his ankles, since he refuses any physical therapy. I could recommend some brands or a few people who could make custom ones; they provide more…security." She smiles as she talks.

Light is sitting on the examination table, looking no different from before, only perhaps more sullen.

The doctor continues, "For now, he has an ankle brace, which he has said he's used before. Understandable. The brace stays on at all times except showering. He should be fine on his own for that, but if he needs help or is worried, he may ask for help—from you or another friend." A blush dusts lightly over his cheeks and he looks away. My own heart flutters. He must be embarrassed for the possibility of needing help of my seeing him undressed. Something quite unwanted for him, I'm certain.

"No physical exercise for two weeks," the doctor goes on. "But he should wear the brace just in case for…six weeks."

Light thanks the doctor and we leave. She also gives him a pass to his next class, saying she'll make sure that he was excused from his previous class.

I have a feeling Light would have been greatly upset for missing a class and being late for a second in the past. Now, he is utterly neutral. I say goodbye at the classroom door after a silent tense walk and then leave.

Well, the tennis idea failed.

Author's Note: So, if I used any wrong tennis lingo, I'm sorry. I don't play. Also, I just couldn't resist the game itself. I thought it would be really good to get Light's spirits up...AND THEN CRUSH THEM! KYAHAHA! No, no, I'm sorry. Really, I am.

But how am I so knowledgeable on ankles? Well, this story is written by the girl who broke both her ankles in the span of several months. I trick-or-treated with a cast one my right ankle and spent winter break with a boot on my left. After that, I got a bit of physical therapy and have been using $400 custom orthotics in my gym shoes, which I wear all the time. That was five years ago.

My little guy, Plot, hasn't made too much of a show for L. I guess he just doesn't like him. Well, there's a bit in there, but like I said, he'll mostly hang around Light. However, next chapter, he'll make a bigger appearance...I think.

Notice how L's logic coincides with mine? Light and Mello can either be the best of friends or the worst of enemies...or the kinkiest of lovers, but L wouldn't think that for NUMEROUS reasons...