"Watari,
If you are reading this letter then I, L, am dead. Whether it be by Kira's hand or the hand of another or (as unlikely as it is) by normal causes, I would like you to follow these instructions to the letter. I want you to take all the money from my account and for you to do with it as you please. You should be fit for retirement if it is the amount I believe it to be (there is a 1% possibility that I am wrong). Then I'd like you to go to my successor (either Mello, Near or both) and aid them in anyway possible. Treat them like you would treat me. If Kira did kill me (there is a 60% chance he has), then suspect Light Yagami as Kira.
I guess this is goodbye Watari Quillish Wammy whatever name you take on. This is what people do when they won't see each other again, is it not? Say Goodbye?
So goodbye, old friend.
Lawliet."
The hunched man signed his name - his real name - at the bottom of the expensive letter paper. He'd never really said goodbye before, not even to his successors at Wammy's House, the orphanage for gifted children. Although, he would admit he got the idea from a film he'd watched when he was seventeen.
Sighing, the young detective stood, shuffling into the kitchen oh his new investigation headquarters, based in the Kanto region of Japan, with a sombre expression on his usually emotionless face. He opened the fridge door, grabbed his favourite strawberry cheesecake and closed the door slowly, watching to see when the light goes out like a child would.
Lawliet (best known as L, world's greatest detective) reached a long, pale hand into the cutlery drawer, grabbing a silver fork between his thumb and pointer finger (his usual way of holding things, as if he's disgusted by touch) and sat down on a chair at the small kitchen table devouring the sweet, creamy treat with his legs drawn to his chest and his pale toes wiggling over the edge of his seat.
You could say a lot of things about L were 'weird' by normal standards, from his appearance to the way he acts. L's preferred outfit of choice was a loose, long-sleeved white shirt and baggy blue jeans. He would only wear shoes outside and they were only battered, unlaced tennis shows he would slip on. No, L never, ever wore socks. They were "much too restrictive" for him, which was odd, saying he constantly cooped himself up in his hotel suite's, using elderly Watari to get his information. Instead, L preferred to walk around barefoot, toes constantly wiggling as he sat in his odd position which supposedly "increased his deductive reasoning by 40%". L never went out, so why should he care about how he looks?
The 24-year-old was, as to be expected, unnaturally pale from his little exposure to that flaming ball of hydrogen in the sky, he often sat inside in the dark, only light from his many computers and laptops to guide him. Dark, almost black bags hung under large, emotionless black eyes, eyes that reflected no light and took everything into their bottomless depths. L has trouble sleeping. He was a diagnosed insomniac and he rarely wanted to sleep on a case anyway - he kept awake by sheer stubbornness, mountains of sugar and gallons of coffee for days on end. L rarely blinked or even closed his eyes - how could he when all he'd see were terrible things, things that would send any normal human insane. His most frequent nightmare - if he dreamed at all - was of Beyond Birthday, his old successor. If it wasn't for BB's odd red eyes and tendency to wear darker clothes, the two of them could have been twins. Unfortunately, BB went crazy, seeing death dates everywhere and not wanting to be beneath someone younger than him. So, he made a case for L and became a murderer. When L closes his eyes even briefly, he can still see the almost exact mirror of himself, covered in that precious red liquid...
With a gasp, L's eyes flew open as he jumped out of his flashback, the sound of porcelain breaking reaching ever-alert ears. Cursing to himself softly in English - his native tongue - L went to the cupboard under the sink, grabbed a dustpan and brush and cleaned up the mess of ruined cheesecake and broken porcelain, sighing and grumbling to himself as he remembered that was the last slice of his favourite treat.
"I'll have to get Watari to make me some more..." The troubled detective mumbled in his monotonous, level voice, running a long, pale hand through his equally long, messy black locks. If it wasn't for his baggy blue jeans, L could have easily fit into a modern style black-and-white detective film.
Deciding his small break had been long enough, L shuffled back to his seat in the investigation room in front of the many screens linked to any camera in every place you can think of. Even when stood, L's posture was odd. He had an oddly curved back - no quite a hunchback, more of a slouch. Watari believed this to be form the many burdens the young man had had to carry throughout his short life.
Finally re-seated, L put his final letter in the closest drawer and turned back to observing Misa Amane, the bubbly model who he believed to be the second Kira.
On the other end of the long surveillance desk sat Light Yagami L's number one suspect to be Kira - the killer. He needed L out of his way so he could make his new, crime-free world without trouble. And soon, L would no longer be a problem.
It had taken a while for Light to even come close to killing L. He needed his name to complete his plans and with so many of L's alias's floating about, it was hard to find the real one. Ryuzaki, Hideki Ryuuga (funnily like the Japanese pop stars), L, Eraldo Coil, Doneuve... they were a few of Lawliet's best known, and none of them the true name of the genius. L trusted no-one, and liked to hold all the playing cards. Light thought that L had so many because he wanted to be anyone but himself. He certainly seemed troubled.
Light was glad that soon he wouldn't have to deal with L's ridiculously low, 1% chance of Light being Kira (although he actually believed it to be closer to 90%). Although, the thrill of the chase was exhilarating. He would miss the oddball detective in some respects.
A red glow and a black 'W' brought all attention to the computers, even from ex-cops (Chief) Soichiro Yagami (Light's father) and Matsuda Touta (who was, in L's opinion, an idiot) at the back of the room.
"What's going on?" Light shouted over the alarm that has sounded at the now frozen L.
"The files on the case are being deleted... I told Watari to do that only if something happened..." L mumbled, still in shock. Reaching forward, L pressed the intercom button by his keyboard, calling for Watari.
"I'm... sorry L... Kira got me..." The voice of the old man wheezed, saying hi last goodbye to the man he considered his son before collapsing, hand clutched to his chest still as the heart attack finished him.
L couldn't move. The only person he trusted was gone and he was alone, metaphorically speaking, as he was surrounded by the three remaining members of his task force. It was moments like these that made L wonder why he became a detective. He knows it was his strong sense of justice and the fact he could use his vast deductive abilities (his only real skill) to help people. He may not seem like he does, but he does care for everyone. Every person saved is another child not being put through the struggles of being an orphan, a hardship he had to go through. Though, in his line of work, you can loose a lot of people, and L had lost the one he cared for most.
The saddened detective did not have long to mourn, for Kira once again rose up to take those down in his way.
L tipped out of his chair, hands scratching at his chest seemingly like he believed if he took out his heart he could stop the pain. Kira had obviously chosen his favoured method to take out his number one problem - a heart attack. L glared up at the smirking Light, who looked as if he had won the lottery.
As life slipped away from the grasp of the lonely detective, he knew that the one thing has happened that he'd promised himself he wouldn't allow to happen...
Kira had won.