Being first to some is the same as being last. Because you're first just means you never need to improve. Nothing is left. I am that nothing left.

First to succeed, and first to become. B. Backup.

The definition in the dictionary of the word, "backup" states: "to copy as a precaution to failure."

Damn, how I hate that word.

I am not a copy—I am an original, the only one who attempts to surpass the one we are cloned to become. I do not want to become L, like my peers—I want to SURPASS, and be BETTER than L. I will surpass, because L will not fail. And there will be no "backup."

God, I hate that word.

But if one is to surpass the world's greatest detective, what is the first step one must take? We are raised and trained to be him. If we know no different…where do we go? On our own. Taking our own paths.

In retrospect, there were probably only two people who could have ever tried to stop me from becoming the monster I turned into. One was too far away and disconnected to know how I was silently plotting inside, deciding how to destroy him. The other…

Everyone called him A. His name was really Adrien Anthonie Cascadia. He was Italian, and one of the most caring and selfless kids in Wammy's house. He had what yaoi fan girls would call the "uke factor." He was effeminate, self-conscious, and a bit clumsy. He wanted everyone to be happy, and made sure of it, no matter how shitty he felt. He was, in some ways, everyone's teddy bear to cuddle when they felt horrible. But even with his advantages he was still human. He had severe depression, though he never let anyone know. He was a danger to himself. I think if I hadn't had found him like that, then I…

I think I need to explain. Let's Tarintino this story and go back to the beginning. Back to when I first met Adrien.

There had been a lot of activity that day, mostly with adoption business. I wanted nothing to do with it, so I kept to my room. The hullabaloo died down around 2 in the afternoon, and that was great, because I was hungry. So I snuck into the kitchens and made a Strawberry Jam sandwich. No peanut butter—just bread and strawberry jam. I was on my way back to my room when I happened to glance in the common room.

I had been at Wammy's for quite some time, and I thought I had known everyone there. Apparently not, since I didn't recognize the strawberry blond boy sitting at the piano, playing Beethoven's fifth with precise accuracy. I was mildly intrigued—he was roughly my age (I was eight at the time), and no eight year old should be able to play Beethoven with such perfection. Taking a bite of my sandwich, I sauntered in, standing behind him for a few moments, munching, until he stopped and turned to me. He was smiling happily. "What do you think?" he asked, tucking his hands in his lap. "Did I do well?"

I nodded vaguely, thoroughly impressed. I popped the final bite of my sandwich in my mouth, dusting of my hands with my jeans. "I have to admit," I muttered passed the food. "I've been here a while, but I have never seen you around before."

He smiled again, holding out his hand. "I'm Adrien." He clapped a hand over his mouth quickly. "I mean, I'm A."

I raised a brow, taking his hand. "Adrien?" I shrugged. At least he had a normal name. "I'm-"

"Beyond Birthday," he interrupted. I blinked rapidly, wondering for a moment if he had the same curse I did. "I've heard about you from the others." I rolled my eyes. "They told me about your eyes." I snorted, ready to walk away. "I think they're cool looking." I stopped and stared. He was smiling. He leaned in a bit to whisper to me. "Can you really see when someone will die?"

I nodded slowly. "Their real names too." I glanced up. "Your full name is Adrien Anthonie Cascadia."

He laughed. "Yup!" He clapped once. "So, out of curiosity, how long until I die?"

That's what had me confused. Being a child like everyone else here, he should have had a longer life span. It should have been longer than Roger's or Watari's. But…it was short. Four or five more years maybe. I glanced down at his face again. He was still waiting, kicking his feet. I smiled mischievously. "That's some morbid fascination, Adrien. Wanting to know when you will die, I mean."

Adrien shrugged, giggling a bit. "Well, I need to be prepared!" Was his simple answer. "I don't want to die before I get to achieve my life's ambitions!" He hopped off the piano bench, taking my hand. "Promise to tell me one day?"

Yeah, that'd go over well. Guess what Adrien?! Remember when you wanted to know when you'll die? Well, at that time it was four or five years, so guess what? YOU'RE FUCKED! Yeah, that'd be just fabulous. "Sure," I muttered, despite my inner rambling. "Maybe one day I'll tell you."

He giggled again, the bell-like sound becoming infectious. He swung our hands. "Does that mean we're friends?"

I stared, my eyes blinking rapidly. No one had ever wanted to be my friend before. No one ever wanted to do with me. Me and my…my curse. "…Friends…?" The word sounded foreign on my tongue, like a language I had never heard but, oddly enough, liked. A smile danced across my lips. I liked the sound of it. "Yeah…" I muttered slowly. "We're friends, Adrien."

The little Italian released my hand before clapping happily and hugging me, squishing our faces together. Normally, such close contact would have bothered me, but for some reason, I liked being this close. I had a friend. It was, needless to say, a first for me.

And I liked it.