'L'
By Yukirei (a.k.a. Cosmiko Ling)
Warning: Spoilers for Page. 58, volume 7
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of its characters. Death Note belongs to Ohba Tsugumi-sensei and Obata Takeshi-sensei, the creator and artist behind Death Note whom we should thank for bringing us such a wonderful series. This is a non-profit fanfiction written by a fan, for the enjoyment of other fans.
Summary: From becoming L to meeting a worthy opponent. This is a story about L. Dedicated to L.
A/N: In memory of L. Written directly after reading page. 58. Because L's death struck so hard.
The day I took over the position of L, I knew that someday, I too would probably die a premature death. But I also knew that if I were ever to die as L, I would have met a worthy opponent. Because, before that, I would not have encountered defeat.
"L is dead."
I stared at the head of the orphanage for a moment, then my eyes flicked to the man standing beside him.
It was only on rare occasion that the founder of our orphanage visited us. After all, we were not the only orphanage he had founded. There were others around the world.
To most of us, he was 'Father Wammy'.
"You are to take over the position of L."
To me, he had another identity - Watari.
Only those with the 'potential' would ever find out. They left clues - almost impossible clues that demanded a high level of analytical ability to crack. In my boredom, I solved them all and found myself faced with the mystery of this character, L.
All the facts I held pointed to the head knowing the truth behind L. There were no other available clues from which to draw deductions. And so, I questioned. Perhaps that was their final test, a test of guts and determination for an answer.
I was given an answer - in the form of a brief explanation of the purpose of L and what he did.
Nothing more was said--
Sometimes, when I stared out of the window from my bed at night, I wondered what it would be like living the life of L, how different it would be, if it would be a challenge for my brain. The head didn't directly tell me so, but there was enough to let me deduce that it was a possibility. I concluded - it would probably be much more fun than now anyway.
--until now.
"If it'll be a challenge."
The head frowned slightly at the hint of defiance in my tone.
But he should know. I had never been a very good kid. I had caused, or was involved in, my fair share of fights. Often over candy.
I was surprised when I saw Father Wammy smile at me.
"I promise it will be."
I considered for a moment.
"Alright then... Watari," I finally replied. Then, on further consideration, I added another condition, "there has to be candy too."
"Alright."
Watari kept his promises, both of them. He allowed me to choose only cases which interest me. And I was able to freely order whatever foods I wanted.
I abandoned the use of my real name and became just 'L'. Life became less dull. I enjoyed the current of excitement that flowed through me and made my mind feel so alive when I was faced with tough cases.
Initially, I did it merely for the challenge.
Gradually, partially due to the influence of Watari, I began to also work for something called 'righteousness'.
Righteousness wasn't something that existed much when one was roaming in the streets of London. 'Survival' was a more important word.
I wasn't entirely without a sense of right and wrong. But I would probably say that my sense of right was somewhat different from the 'norm' in the sense that I believed in doing what it took to achieve the outcome that I thought was right. In other words, I believed in the ends justifying the means. Sometimes, it wasn't that the police weren't able to solve a case, but rather that they followed too closely by the rules and were unwilling to try some unorthodox methods.
My final opponent had a mind very much like my own.
He too believed in the means being justifiable by the ends.
However, I agreed with neither his ends nor his means.
When I worked on cases, it was based on my ability and instinct. I had full confidence in both these qualities of mine.
I hated to lose.
I hated to acknowledge the fact that something existed beyond my ability.
I prepared for the possibility - I wasn't a fool - but I wasn't going to believe that I would need those preparations till it happened.
I knew.
When I first felt the ache on the left of my chest, I knew I had to accept that--
My body keeled over against my mind's wishes.
--my ability had failed me.
He caught me in his arms, my worthy opponent, a wide smirk on his face as he smugly proclaimed his victory over me.
But because I saw that smirk, I was able to give a small victory punch as my eyes slid close on their own accord.
For I knew that though my ability had failed, my instinct had won.
And as always, I took delight in knowing that I was right.
Date written: 30 December 2005
Last edited: 5 January 2006
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