I know all about you. How you first turned up in that orphanage with nothing but the clothes on your back and a puzzle box. How the only thing you did all day was play with that puzzle, put it together and take it apart. How all the other children called you "Puzzles." How the pieces got so worn that there was no more image and yet you still knew where they went. I forget what the puzzle was originaly.
It was a strawberry.
And eventually, they took away the puzzle because "it was filthy." You cried and you cried slow tears that dripped like blood from a closing wound. Even then you had reactions that were different than others.
I got an eye infection that year.
They gave you books and music and those funny boxes with the moving pictures, new clothes and toys. There were other puzzles as well. But none of them filled the void, did they?
No.
After a while, they sat you at a desk in a room where there were other kids, sitting at desks exactly like yours. One of them gave you a sheet of paper with marks and symbols all over it, marring the smooth white perfection, and told you to finish it.
That paper still gives me nightmares.
Because it wasn't perfect?
Exactly.
From another kid you learned that those marks were sounds made into sights. A symbol for a sound. In doing so, you could read minds.
I already could. I knew when they were coming and what they would do.
You still wouldn't do those papers, even though you could understand them now. Until someone told you they were a kind of puzzle too.
I kept hoping to get a kind of strawberry for an answer.
You did many of those papers and got faster and faster at them. You could then just look at it and see the answer.
Those got boring fast.
Sometimes you would try a different type of puzzle. You would try to figure out things. You tried to figure out your name once.
All I could remember was that it started with an "L"
On the talking box, once there was a bunch of people screaming and blood and a masked figure lurking in the shadows.
I remember, it was Mr. Perkins who did it. He had the fruit basket in his closet.
None of the other boys could figure it out.
Mm hm, they were all too scared.
The old man who owned and created the place where you and the other boys lived came to visit once. He was beset by all the other boys requesting things. When he finally got to you, all you wanted was a puzzle.
One much harder than the ones I had done.
And he showed you a puzzle that did not make a picture. The solution was a person or a group of persons and the pieces were pieces of hair, fragments of clothing, stories from others.
That one was fun.
He saw how good you were at them and took you a long way away from the other boys and sat you at a screen with words and told you to solve a mystery that half the pieces was missing from. It took you 20 minutes.
15 of those were just reading through the pages.
Things really took off from there. You were in a different place every day and met people all over that asked you to help them. They would give you lots and lots of green papers that you could trade for flat pieces of metal and stuff you wanted.
Those were the best days of my life.
Somewhere along the way, you developed a liking for sweets. I can't remember where.
It was that time when I was tired and didn't want to sleep, there was still so much to read. Mr. Whammy said that kids shouldn't drink coffee that the grownups use to stay awake so I tried eating something. The first thing I found were some jellybeans. I munched on it and liked the sugary flavor. Not long after I had a rush of energy and could finish the puzzle with time to spare. But then I got all tired and sticky so I just ate some more. It keeps me awake.
So you solved puzzle after puzzle. It was getting easier and easier. You wanted a new challenge.
I got one in Kira.
Kira? Who could forget Kira? The one who can kill all with a single book.
The innocents, all those FBI agents, killed. I had to stop him. Even though he killed a lot of criminals, it still counted as murder.
The suspect?
Yagami Raito.
You didn't want to hurt him.
He was a puzzle. He was the most fantasticaly challenging puzzle there ever was. Better yet was that he could actually understand me. He could even be a step ahead of me.
You recruited him as a helper.
He was a smart, smart boy. The world needs more people like him.
You called him you friend.
He was my only friend. We even spent some time handcuffed together. No privacy.
And then he killed you.
And I discovered his secret. He was Kira.
You solved the puzzle at last.
I did, didn't I?
But at what price?
I've been meaning to ask you something but kept getting lost, who are you? What am I doin here? What is the meaning of this?
Listen closely, for I'll only say this once. The person you know as "L" is dead...
Authors Note: Well, that was my first fanfiction. Even though it took a week to write it turned out more like a drabble than anything. I still don't know who the person talking to L is. Anyway, please Review. It makes the world go round.