So much brightness.
It was overwhelmingly sunny in the shady parts of England. Or so it was for the small albino child sitting on the steps of the Wammy House. Nate River, otherwise known as N or Near, was entertained with a blank puzzle. It was white like the snow he had seen so many times during the winter and sometimes early spring. The sun reflected off of the puzzle, hurting the albino's dull eyes. He flinched squeezing his eyes shut securely. He wasn't normally used to this and the sun was beginning to make his skin tingle. So he picked up the individual pieces of the puzzle and set them into the box and decided he would finish it once he returned to the dimness of his room. He exhaled He wasn't very interested in socializing- He wasn't much of a people person, simply a book and toys person. Though he wished he was.
He truly did.
There was one person he wanted to get ahold of. Miheal Keehl.
The boy struck him as a very interesting character. He was very persuasive to some who were willing to get swept up in his small schemes. The pre-teen was very popular and aggressive towards those who got in his way, though he wasn't one to make friends with everybody. Some hated him, others admired from afar- The only person really maintaining his friendship was Mail Jeevas, later on known as "Matt"- The third in line to become L's successor.
He was extremly witty and intelligent, the second in line to be L's possible successor. Near had come to the conclusion that because he could not have Miheal's friendship, he was so eager to grasp every chance to see if it were to happen. It was a very humane thing to do if you think about it. Wanting what you cannot have.
But Miheal hated him with a fiery passion.
Miheal, known as M and later on as Mello, was known for keeping his position in second place. Though he was older than Near by a few short years that didn't change the fact that Near was obviously a tad bit more intelligent. As he reached his late teens/early twenties, he would do anything to win "first place" in the search for Kira- The mass murderer killing thousands with a single notebook.
But that is later on in the story.
At times when Near was a small child, around five or six, he would ask himself as to why he was like this. It was a gift and a curse.
Later on in life, he would not care as much as he did now. He was mature for a child, but he was still naive. He knew he couldn't help it, at times he would find his lip quivering as he thought about it. He never cared for it, but he would inhale and exhale sharply to make the prickling pain in his eyes go away. As time passed, he began to dislike his emotions greatly. In his opinion, he thought emotions were road blocks in a pathway to a goal.
To Mello, they were a great motivator.
An emotion to Mello was like chocolate. Without it, he wouldn't function properly.
The boys were complete polar opposites. Near was what most called the "Golden Boy" always being in a neutral attitude, his still face never wavered not a hint of emotion would ever show unless he was really entertained. He always had a habit of twirling a lock of his white hair around his index finger and sitting hunched over with his knee up to his chest, an L position you may call it. No matter how old he got he would always be interested in toys. He looked up to L like a child would look at his father. In deep admiration. Though the world-famous detective and Near never met, it didn't stop Near from following in his footsteps
Mello on the other hand, looked up to L but felt like Wammy's House for Gifted Children was made for children to emotionally and mentally clone L(Such as Near). He is labeled as "The Rebel" for his snappy attitude. Because of this he has much bitterness towards authority and doesn't appreciate it, so to say, as others do. He isn't very interested in becoming the next "L". His main interest was to catche kira.
At the moment, Near and Mello are four and nine years old. Mello's current worry is catching the ball for the hardcore game of kickball that the children were playing. Inside, Near had finished his puzzle and had turned it over leaving all the pieces to fall into a pile where he would start over once again. But he didn't so much as touch the pieces. He held a knee to his chest and was deep in thought.
"All life is, is a game." The voice in his head was a surprising monotone. A deep voice, the voice he estimated that he would have if he reached his older years. He raised an eyebrow softly. "No, a race." Another low voice whispered.
"Why not both?" The last voice suggested as they both trailed off.
Near nodded. It really was a race. He couldn't explain it, but it always was. Who would be the first to cross the finish line.
That was always the question from that point on in his life.