Blood.

The vital fluid in each creature that delivers necessary substances such as
nutrients and oxygen and transports metabolic waste products away those
same cells.
It was quite ironic that even dead creatures like vampires, who were
nothing but a mere empty immortal shell, craved for that ruby liquid like
flies to honey. Just a drop lifted sagging skin, prevented creasing and
adorned cheeks with a soft pinkish shade, wiping off the spectral paleness
of death; a miracle that not only let vampires to gain strength, but also let
them survive immortality. The quite nostalgic types would tell it was like
living among humans once again, even though it meant killing innocents to
preserve their cursed species. Newborn vampires had in fact the bad habit
to drain blood out till the victim died in their embrace, too focused on the
ecstasy blood gave them. Others, the hunters of the night, simply wanted to get
rid of those humans who doomed them to the darkness.

It was a foul blood war.

“I don't understand you.” Leaned against the door, Mello's eyes burned with
indignation. His delicate features, framed by a blond bob, would resemble
too pure and angelic for this world if it wasn't for the burnt crossing his
face and the layers of black leather enveloping his slim figure. “Please,
brother.”
His interlocutor sat on the windowsill of the tower in a cradled position,
long pale fingers caressing the tip of his bare toes and the gaze lost
somewhere in the horizon. He didn't turn at the sound of Mello's plea and
he kept cuddling in his long black cloak, his skin looking like papier-
mâché under the sunlight and dark eyes weighted with years and infinite
knowledge.
“Lawliet, you're dying!”
As in an already written script, the black haired vampire finally spoke.
“Death doesn't occur just because you don't drink blood, Mihael.” Vampires'
immortal life wasn't directly connected to their thirst of human blood,
thought it was their main source of strength. L Lawliet had stopped
drinking blood for centuries and he didn't even remember how the taste
was nor he didn't crave for it. His skin had inevitably dried and he looked
like the ghost of the most powerful vampire he'd been, but he would never
regret the decision.
“Fuck off, I'm done with you! Just die here already!” With a last growl of
frustration, Mello left the room and the echo of his furious steps resonated
until L saw his figure soaring through the air with the strength and the
beauty of his young age.
Rage was the only way of communication at Mello's disposal. He was turned
into a vampire in his prime, after a life spent in misery and barely aware of
the variety of human emotions. When Lawliet took him under his wig, Mello
found a new family and even learnt to smile -often inwardly, hid by the
angry facade to preserve his pride. So he would express tears with yells and
punches because it would have been easier to deal with the news his
mentor, the creature he owed his life, gave up on his own.
Too pure for a corrupted world, Lawliet thought absently-mindedly, jumping off
the window and gliding light through the sky, the fresh sensation of wind in
his hair to clear his mind.
Avenged the death of Watari, his mentor and creator, and concluded a
contract that signed peace between humans and vampires, there was
nothing left for the Prince of Justice -a moniker given from those who hated
him and hid in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to rise against
mankind and their own brothers. A multitude of invincible vampires like
Mihael had been prepared for an upcoming war and it was time to appoint
a successor.

It was the middle of the night when, landed in the forest, he heard the
screams.
Seven adult voices could be distinguished and they grew of intensity at
each step taken. A sudden thud stopped the march and the dim light of
lanterns cast spectral shadows all around the area; L observed the scene
mingled with the darkness, wondering what those men were doing five
miles away the nearest village. Some of them carried spears, but they
weren't hunters unless they didn't cared for their dear lives -they just
entered the vampire's territory, where only luck would let them leave the
tent with their own heads on.
“Justice will end each one of you.” The envelop of clothes fallen on his
knees between them had beautiful amber eyes and brown hair. He was
probably ten or twelve years old, bruises all over his body and a blood stain
drooling along his temples. The man closest to him, a priest judging by the
Bible in the hand and the crucifix wrapped around his thin wrinkled neck,
spoke above him. “Silence! Judgement will speak through God!”
The other men closed in around the boy and the priest, lanterns held high.
“Regna terrae, cantata Deo, psallite Cernunnos. Regna terrae, cantata Dea
psallite...”
An exorcism. A religious practice of evicting demons or spiritual entities
from a person or an area, that are believed to be possessed. An ancient
belief brought up by the fear of the unknown, which caused futile deaths
like the one of that poor child.
“Aradia. caeli Deus, Deus terrae...”
Before taking action, L observed carefully the boy. There was fear of death
in his eyes but he didn't advert the gaze and stood proud, fists clenched
tight, in front of the upcoming holy sentence. Such beautiful strength and
will of living pounding through his veins...
“Humiliter majestati gloria- AAAH!” The priest jerked at the sight of the
vampire appeared behind the boy. The Bible fell from his grip and the men
of the village instinctively pointed their spears at L, knowing they could
little in front of the strength of an ancient vampire.
“Go away.” Lawliet's dark eyes glimpsed of a red light, his voice low and
steady echoed in the wind. “You will forget about this boy and will return
home before dawn.”
The priest an all the men of the village slowly went back to their steps as if
under an enchantment; soon, the echo of the march was barely audible and
silence reigned back over the woods. The boy, eyes wide open in a mute
shock, finally turned to his saviour. “What- How did you do that?!”
L suddenly awoke from slumber and looked down at the kid, at those eyes
full of life and those tiny hands pulling at his cloak with excitement. Almost
forgetting he'd been about to die.
“Telekinesis.” The vampire fell on his knees, strength's drained due to his
current state of weakness. It would occur him some hours to regain the
capability of flying -if an enemy would appear it would be the end of him
without a doubt.
“Wow.”L had never seen a human watching a vampire like that child did. His
eyes, big and innocent, lingered on his pale skin and the heavy bags under
his eyes, still clutching at his cloak as if afraid it would be vanished away
soon -just like a dream. “Do you feel sick? You can drink my blood as a
thank for saving me.” Without hesitation he offered his arms covered with
bruises, but Lawliet slowly shook his head.
“I don't drink blood.”
Again those eyes widened in surprise.
“But vampires drink blood, don't they?!”
Lawliet sighed, rubbing thoughtfully his tip-toes. “Yes, they do. But I don't.”
Before the other could express his bewilderment once again, he spoke first.
“Why did they want to exorcise you?”
The grip on L's cloak tightened and the boy bit down his lips before letting
out a reply. “I'm cursed. I killed bad people writing their names on a book.”
There was no hint of regret in his voice despite the light trembling of his
shoulders. “A black man with feathers gave me a black note and told me to
write down the names of bad people. So I did and it worked.”
Lawliet stared intensely at the boy. A black man with feathers and a cursed
book? It only could be...
“Where's the book now?”
“The black man took it back when they dragged him in the woods.”
… Ryuk.
The head of the hunters of the night was planning the death of humankind
of vampires as well. If a death note existed as the boy said, they were all in
danger. It seemed his time hadn't come yet.
“Light is your name, isn't it?”
“How-”
“Don't move.”
Lawliet pulled the boy closer until the scent of blood tickled his nostrils.
The ancient need lead the way through his senses, inebriated by the sight
of fresh and innocent red liquid. The first lick gave him goosebumps, the
ferrous taste filled his mouth as if it was the first time he drank blood; eyes
closed shut and pale fingers clutching at Light's shoulders, his tongue
wiped off eagerly the blood from the boy's wounds.

The dim light of a lantern brightened the pages of the book, open on his
knees. A black quiver in a tiny hand, trembling with anticipation when the
tip soaked with blood and brushed against the paper. A shaky first letter,
was he doing the right thing? Did he have really the power to change the
world as the black weird man said? Did those man have to die? Regret
marked down the second and the third letter, his breath erratic as he shook
the head several times. He was right, that men chose him, so he was right,
those man were bad and Justice will prove it, write those names, c'mon,
don't be a coward! He was Justice now!

Lawliet pulled back with a shudder, regaining his composure as quickly as

possible before his instinct took over.
“Would you like to tell me your story in a better safe place, Light?” Lawliet
stood up and spread his wings, the old flare of justice boiling in his veins. “I
promise no one will hurt you.”
Light blinked several times, still shocked and amazed by the change of
events. “Alright. I owe you. May I know your name at least?”
Lawliet pondered the question as he picked the boy up and soared. If Ryuk
was really in possess of an item that could kill any creature by knowing
their names, it was a risk giving them out so easily.
“You can call me Ryuzaki.”