Spiky, blonde hair, smiling bright green eyes, and a smile that was irritatingly contagious. This was A, Aaron, Beyond's roommate. A had only been at Wammy's House, an 'orphanage' in Winchester England, for a few months. This was Beyond Birthday's twenty seventh day. They were very opposite. Even their looks clashed. B has bulging ruby red eyes, A has bright green, B is pale, A a smooth tan, B is tall and thin, A is small and, wasn't exactly fat, but had a thicker build. B was so thin he looked a little sick. Beyond had neatly brushed, natural black hair, A had messy blonde hair.
They were the same age, eight; however, they were more intelligent and mature than most adults. B found A to be extremely obnoxious. His happy-go-lucky personality clashed terribly with B's angry one. B had what seemed like a permanent scowl and it only got worse whenever A was around.
It was the early morning of December thirteenth and B was calmly asleep in his warm bed. A sat on the floor, screwing in the last screw of his newest invention. He smiled brilliantly and marveled at it's beauty. It was a square shaped object with a thin wire coming out the back of it and connecting to what looked like a microphone. He giggled and jumped up, taking the device with him.
He bounded excitedly over to B and placed the box by the ear of the poor unsuspecting kid. He backed up a safe distance and put the microphone to his grinning lips. He took a deep breath and glanced at B one last time. "B! YOU'RE ON FIRE!" He yelled into the mic. It came out the other end, sever decibels louder. B shot up out of bed and screamed. He looked around frantically for the alleged fire. A was on the ground, trying desperately to breathe through his laughter.
B glared furiously. "You little punk." He growled out. A closed his eyes and counted to ten, an attempt to control his laughter. B grabbed the box and threw it onto the ground, it shattered. A's laughter ceased. The blonde stood and gabbed his notebook. "So, the only problem with this one…" He scribbled down ad few notes, "is it can break easily. Thanks B." He smiled happily, B rolled his eyes. The raven laid back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
Life at Wammy's House was simpler then. The people living there were prototypes, yes, but that's not all of it. How they lived was also experimental. Quillish Wammy, or Watari, established the orphanage to create a second L. Quillish was an inventor, as such, of course he would want to make more of something great. He didn't yet know how to do it properly.
With something like this, there is only one way to go about it. 'Trial and Error.' Everything was designed to get an answer. If it worked, or if it didn't work. The orphanage was split into two parts. Both run very differently. One would work, one wouldn't. The geniuses who got the bad luck of being in the one that didn't work all turned out… warped. There were only two members of that side. The way that area was run, there only needed to be two. Of course, when they were put there, nobody knew that it wouldn't work. They were the lab rats, tested without their consent. They were not even aware of the experiment. If they were, perhaps, things wouldn't have ended so bad… Than again, it could've been worse. Either way… They were the miss, the other half was a hit.
The two eight-year-olds sat in a dark room, in front of a large screen. They waited calmly for their 'education' to begin. This was a daily routine. Everyday they learned something different about the law. They memorized names of police bureau's, learned to recite the names of all the world's current leaders, and basically just learned the overall meaning of justice. Today, though, would be different.
A tall, round man wearing a suit stood in front of the screen. He smiled falsely at them. "So far, you've learned how to fight crime, police officials, and world leaders. But today… You'll be learning of the brutalities of crime and why you need to fight It." He gestures to the screen behind him. "Watch." He said curtly, walking away. The screen lit up. A tensed, he didn't like this. B just yawned indifferently, he's read several books on crime, he knew how bad it could get. A picture flashed on the screen. It was a mug shot of a man. He had messed up hair, a smirk, and a large nose. The most notable thing about the man, though, were his eyes… They were empty. Hollow. No emotion. Just dead. A shifted uncomfortably. B tilted his head to the left.
There was a list of information on the right side of the picture. It had his name, Sosuke Yashamaru, his crime, murder in the first degree, and his age, twenty three. A found it unsettling how young he was. B was curious as to what would drive somebody who looked so empty to do something that would take a lot of emotion. You don't just kill somebody, it takes a lot of work. You have to convince yourself it's the right thing to do, you have to have enough rage, that even when you're staring into the pleading eyes of the victim, you don't stop.
That picture faded, a new one appeared. Even B felt uncomfortable with this one. A looked completely apathetic. The picture was of a corpse, presumably Yashamaru's victim. It was a small redheaded boy, couldn't be any older than six. He had several stab wounds on his back, his eyes were stabbed out, he was completely naked, and sand was drizzled over his small pale body. The sand was drenched in blood.
Pictures like these two flashed. Three hours later their lessons were over, they were free to leave. B walked slowly, his head hung low. A shoved his hands in his pockets and walked easily, face void of emotion. If it wasn't for his tan skin, he could've been mistaken for a ghost.
It was around nine o' clock by now and it was time for bed. The two young boys crawled into their respective beds and covered up. B fell asleep soon, but A just stared blankly at the ceiling. Thoughts moving faster than he could even keep up with. He only paid attention to the ones that stood out. He laid there, nit picking at his own thoughts.
A looked over at the clock. It was one a.m. He slowly sat up and quietly walked over to B. "B?" He asked attentively. He wasn't really expecting an answer. A eased himself down onto B's bed and curled up next to the boy. He looked at the sleeping face of his friend and started crying.
"Six! He couldn't have been older than six!" A wailed. B jolted awake and started, dumbfounded, at the boy. He tried to think of a way to deal with this, mind working to figure out the problem. A's sensitive… Seeing that… It really got to him. He concluded.
"A!" B yelled, planning of how to deal with this situation. The blonde boy lifted his head and looked at B with his big, green, sorrowful eyes. "How unlike you to look so distraught. A…We're detectives for one reason. To promote and protect justice. We may not always be able to save the victims, but, I swear, we will always be able to bring peace of mind to any survivor by catching the criminal. Even is a person died, to families," B focused, remembered the book he'd read on criminal psychology , "what's worse is thinking that the person who killed their loved one is free. Catching them consoled al the grief-stricken people. That is what it means to be a detective." A looked like he was contemplating it. His tears lessened and he sat up. The blonde looked at B and smile warmly.
"You're right." He agreed. A wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. "Sorry for being all melodramatic about it." His smile turned sheepish and he got off B's bed. The raven just rolled his eyes. A walked over to his bad and laid down. "Hey B?" He questioned the darkness.
"Hn. Sleeping. Quiet." He said curtly, voice muffled by what A guessed was a pillow. He waited a few minutes until B's breath came in an even rhythm.
"Thank you, B." He rolled over onto his left side and closed his eyes. There was only one thing B was worried about that night… A discovering he was only pretending to sleep. 'You're welcome, kid.' He thought fondly. For him, it was nice to know that A wasn't all smiles. He was happy that the blonde had showed his weakness, and, though he's never admit it out loud, he was very glad that he was able to make A smile again. He secretly loved A's smile.
Sometimes, when I think back on the matter, I wish it would've turned out differently. Only when I reflect on their misery do I feel guilty. I suppose, though, the past is definite. The only thing one can do is change the present; which will become the past. Since I didn't change it then, I can't change it now. Perhaps, I didn't change it because the past now was the future then. Therefore, I had no way of knowing what was to become of the young detectives. History is always following the present. The present is always following the future. If one were to actually make the past the present, what would become of the future?
Everything would be destroyed. In saving the sanity of those two, unforeseen consequences would inevitably appear. I believe it is referred to as the 'Butterfly Affect.' That is a risk too large for me to take. The way things happened is unchangeable… That doesn't stop me from wishing. Despite what B turned into, I will never stop wishing for them.
Alright! Chapter two is up! See? Told ya it'd be longer! Oh, and I felt liek mentioning, incase you don't pick this up, when the author talks it's suppose to sound like you're going in circles, and it's suppose to be difficult to understand. XD REVIEW PLEASE- Lunar
Apathetical: Interesting guesses! I'm not going to say who it is just yet! Yes, I thinned it out! It was only that big because it was just the prologue and it was short anyway! XD Please keep reviewing!