Hahaha, my first Death Note fanfic! When I reread this, it sould eerily similar to Shortcake's opening so I will put up a disclaimer. IF I COPIED ANYONE'S STORY IN ANY WAY I AM VERY SORRY AND I DON'T OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT A PILLOW.

Synopsis:I serve yummy, delicious dango and cake at a nice, happy karaoke/sweet shop on the corner of the street. I have never been accused of criminal activity, nor murder. So why is this yummy shota-like-smiling boy handcuffing me and my dear jelly beaned boss? I hope it does not have anything to do with my name- Kira. LxOC MatsudaxOC

You can't have life without 'if', and without 'if' you would have a 'lie'. At least, that was what I thought.

When I moved out at the happy age of 18, I moved out of the sole reason to LEAVE America. The last thing I told my parents before I left was, "hehe, where i'm going is more than a hop, a skip, and a boat ride away."

Truth is, it was more of a trip around the world and a lottery ticket.

I was purely out of luck that I even managed to get to Japan. I scrounged half of my savings and invested it into the one-way plane ticket. The other half was invested in survival and apartment money rounding from about 2000 to last me for about a year.

I had a bad time with the currency in Japan so it was like, "How the hell do I convert these babies?"

That's not the only problem I had. In Japan people had courtesy, and respect, even to hobo's.

In America it was a curse, a flip of the bird and you were sent on your way. I was given time and patience in Japan, because the people were patient.

Japan was a beautiful place by itself, enhanced with the beautiful culture and kind people.

And manga, lots of delicious shota yaoi manga to chew your head around and fan-girl.

It was a guilty pleasure.

I learned the language pretty soon, considering I was a major weaboo just out of my teen years.

When I was living on scraps and on the last month of my rent, I finally found a decent job and board with a mashed up karaoke/dango/sweet shop run by wallflower girl named Shizuka- which was calm in Japanese- with jelly-beans in her hair.

The first thing I did was rudely stick my finger at the meshed jelly hairband, and question her, "What the hell is that?" That was the start of a beautiful friendship.

I began pestering her because she drew beautiful manga, but refused to publish it. To get me to shut up, she gave me a a job offer. "If you shut up, I will give you a job. If you don't, I will beat your ass. Also, do not call me short, baka." She could be pretty scary when she wanted to be.

I got decent pay, and Shizuka was pretty easy to live with.

On the first day of work, I was sure I scared off some potential customers because there were just so many shota-looking boys on that particular day.

My waiter position was quickly demoted when most of my conversations with customers ran along the lines of, "You're adorable, kid, may I adopt you?" and, "I can't help but wan't to stalk you."

Shizuka was pretty angry with the filed complaints from the many angry parents of their poor, scarred-for-life- possibly-be-needing-therapy teenage boys.

She beat my butt (silently) with a really badass transparent techy-looking ruler. I even forgot it hurt because it was so cool, and it didn't come to my mind till my ass started to ache.

She did quite a number on me.

She was like replacement (cough violent cough) mother.

I was pretty content with my life for a while.

After a few months, a strange customer kept appearing ordering lots and lots of dango and cake (made by moi)

After he ordered he gave a sexy little slur of a Japanese pronunciation of "Thank you," which sounded like 'sanks you' He gave me the cutest little shota smile, that dazzled. It felt like he jumped out of a lolicon/shota doujin.

I couldn't help but fawn to Shizuka on how adorable the boy was. "Come'on he looked like some sexy-tanuki panda!"

She gave me a quick, quiet reply of how, "you always go for weirdoes."

I wasn't my fault, with the Naruto fandom spreading, I felt the urge to worship Gaara and kick Sasuke's sorry ass.

That had nothing to do with insomnia.

Me and Shizuka decided to visit the park, when I spotted the cutie again.

"Don't," Shizuka halted me.

I groaned audibly waving my arms around. "Whyyy?" I whined.

"Don't get arrested for sexual assault."

"I'm not gonna rape him, what the hell are you barking on about?"

"Baka, just don't get in trouble."

I giggled in relief, before beginning to pursue the slouched boy.

I slid skillfully in front of him.

"Ohayo, stranger!" I jostled, probably stunning him.

"er..."

"My name's Kira, and i'd like to match you're nice face with a name!"

He stared at me for a moment.

"7.8." He whispered.

Oh yes, back to the question.

Why the hell am I in handcuffs.

"I'll take you and you're friend to ask you some questions," He whispered with vigorous malice.

I shivered.

That was not sexy.