L,
I see outside the window of my cell and I know it's safe to assume that you are dead. See, nowadays everything is. The trees are brown and bare, I hear a child scream, a mother collapses in the street in my line of view. How sorrowful. How pitiful. The sky is lifeless and dull, and I no longer find pleasure in watching the sun rise. That was the one pleasure I had here in such a monotonous place. I've completely run out of entertainment since and boredom simmers inside of me as there is nothing and no one outside anymore. Even my solitude does no longer give me peace.
I will be next and I will arrive with you soon. My jailer has failed to arrive several days in a row and my stomach churns with an emptiness that I have not experienced in quite a long time.
You will never see this letter as there is no one to deliver it and no one to receive. However, it brings me solace to write to you. It allows me to gather my last bits of humanity, if I ever even had any.
I'll see you soon, L. I hope it's lovely up there.
-Near
1 - One year previous
L scoped the layout of Wammy's house on his final visit to the orphanage. There was a child there named Alys who was quite frankly, a brat. Stubborn beyond belief at only ten years old, he wasn't nearly as intelligent as the others there but he possessed a deep desire to get his way. L supposed if that desire could be applied to a case Alys could get somewhere despite his lack of knowledge and limited deductive skills.
Alys was loudly chastising another child who had interrupted his focus on the television, a horror in which apparently required verbal violence. At least it wasn't physical. L would never understand the immaturity of that child or why on earth Watari saw something in him.
There was very little about this place that he missed. The company wasn't one of those things. Though his introversion became lonely at times, he found it more useful to immerse himself in studies than human relationships. Knowledge was less fragile and more practical.
L attempted to ignore the child and found his way to an office where Watari sat typing at a laptop with a stern crease in his forehead. His eyes were focused as he typed and he sighed before looking up and recognizing L's presence.
"Please sit, and close the door behind you" he said and L did. The chair was uncomfortable and placed across the room leaving an awkward distance between the two. It left an impersonal presence, like he was just another insignificant kid in the office.
"You've called me here when I was halfway across the world" L said, "This must be important if you couldn't just tell me over the phone".
L had just finished the BB murder case and was partially through another one in the states, but Watari made this sound urgent.
"Yes, well," he paused for a second and cleared his throat. "Near has been arrested and I doubt the best lawyer could get him out of this one."
L simply raised an eyebrow, his interest slightly peaked however it was not uncommon for his fellow acquaintances to get on the bad side of the police. They did often have unethical ways of solving cases and low moral senses.
"That required you call me here? Let the boy go to prison."
"He mailed a letter to you, and I wanted to discuss the contents in person".
This finally caught L's attention and Watari pulled an opened envelope from his desk. The paper inside was neatly folded and the handwriting was clearly legible and clearly Near's. He'd seen it before in documents scanned and sent to him.
He held the note in his hands, forefingers and thumbs, and he read.
L,
I'm the least likely person to write to you. You are aware how I envy you and how I yearn to be in your status. This being said, the only reason I would ever write to you is if I was desperate enough to need your help and to stoop low enough to ask for it.
I was recently in Russia attending to requests for my presence when I noticed incredible changes in the behavior of people that I had come to call acquaintances. I had known them simply but by first name and enough to know when something was out of character.
There was a woman there, she went by the name Victoria, and she was the one of the few that I came to have any sort of connection to. She was the most loving woman I had ever come across. With such an apparent love for the world and everything in it, she would never so much as purposefully step on an insect. Victoria believed everything was good or that it had the potential to be.
That's why it struck me as so odd when she murdered someone before my eyes.
That's also why I'm, in fact, detained.
I had noticed her change in behavior but had grown a type of fondness for her like a child has for their mother and denied the signs and then when she committed her crime I was struck in a moment of panic and rather than contact the authorities, well, I helped her.
I fully admit to my doing in this situation as I cannot deny my part.
The fact is, L, that something was severely wrong with this woman. Something happened to her and I cannot figure out what that is while I'm locked in here and I cannot get out. I will not let myself get out knowing fully that I was part.
Examinations on Victoria reveal distortions within her brain however it was so sudden a change and the change so vast that even the best of doctors were unsure.
I need you to figure out what happened to her. Though you owe me nothing but your silence, she was like a mother to me, and when no one else is sure, you have it solved within the snap of a finger.
-Near
L attempted to register the uncharacteristic writing. He wondered if it was truly the boy who wrote it, or an imposter. Although the imposter's handwriting was scarily accurate. The confusion made sense as to why Watari had called him here to discuss in person.
"I'm not convinced he's the author" L said, "however if he is the he's extremely desperate".
Watari nodded in agreement, "He is one of the most prideful people I know, but I think this is sincere".
L pondered for a moment, "Where can I find this woman?"
Light Yagami smiled to himself as he sat relaxed in his desk chair, slumped slightly in satisfaction. He'd watched the news, yes. He saw the story and he was absolutely and completely satisfied.
The notebook sat in front of him and he could see the words he had written before.
Dies when attacked by a person known for bouts of anger and aggression.
The idea was that in payback for the man's violent crimes, a similar fate would meet him. Killed by another.
But his plan diverted from its intention in the coming months like a virus in a weakened body, and though he didn't regret, he would have had he not been dead.