To LottieRaven: I am really glad to find you here, following this story, and trusting me to make a good thing out of this. Thank you for your support and for being my most faithful reader, like always.
Indeed, I was planning on writing a story focused on L and Light, but I can't help introduce Mello and Near too. There will be the other successors and some original characters also (because the original story doesn't introduce all Wammy's pupils), but they will have a minor role.
I am glad you liked the first chapter. I was trying to write a proper introduction to set the scenery.
Actually, I respected the date of birth of all the characters. I wanted it to match the original plot as much as possible. The only differences (huge ones, of course) is that Light is an orphan and L is still at Wammy's. Apart from that, L is still the world's greatest detective and he's still seven years older than Light (R). So in the first chapter, L is sixteen years old. The age gap might seem a bit unhealthy at first, but that's only the introduction, the heart of the story will set when R is older so it won't be that important.
Anyway, you shall see!
To Lillybean123: I respected all the characters' birth dates. So in the first chapter, L is sixteen years old. It's a great age gap, but when they'll grow older, it won't matter anymore.
To MIKE: Thank you for your support, I hope you like this chapter!
To MickaChan: Thank you for your enthusiasm, it really means a lot to me. It encourages me to write. So here is the next chapter, I hope you'll like it.
Chapter 2: C
After a short visit in the vice-director's office where he met another glasses-wearing old man named Roger on the next morning, R was lead to the orphanage cafeteria at 7 o'clock. Instead of the empty, silent corridors, he was surrounded with long, endless wooden tables, parallel to one another, covered with mouth-watering food. But what struck him most was not the classy, silver dishes filled with milk, coffee, tea, juices, fruits, eggs, bacon, thousand types of cereals and jams, cookies, scones, breads and toasts.
No.
The most striking element in this bright, high-ceiled room was that all the students were sitting at different parts of a table... alone.
In fact, that was not completely true. Some kids were reunited in small groups. The biggest group counted three children.
Geniuses appreciated solitude.
It would seem R had landed in the appropriate place, after all.
With his platter overflowed with toasts, milk and cereals, R walked to the nearest table, lacking an empty table, where a tall, matte-skinned boy looked as if he was sorting out his food into different glass jars. R sat in front of him and started eating in silence, without sparing him a glance. He drank in his bowl of milk, accompanied by the soothing sound of salad leaves flying into a glass jar.
"You mus' be the new kid. R, right?" The dark-skinned boy spoke in a rough, husky voice. R merely nodded in response. "Nice to meet you." The African-typed kid continued, his black pupils still fixed on the jars that contained different components such as cucumbers, tomatoes and other condiments.
R's brown eyes fell on a tiny red spot that tainted one salad leaf. He put down his bowl to look closer, frowning. The mysterious boy was not only storing food inside jars. He was collecting animals. The small red patch was a ladybird.
"I'm C. But everyone calls me Coal." The black-skinned child stated neutrally while he let a mushroom fall into another jar. "By the way, did you see E yet?" For the first time, the other student raised his head, his black orbs boring into R's.
"E?" He arched an eyebrow as he bit into a toast.
"It's the first girl who got into the House. Explains why we call her Eve. She's the one who gives the nicknames. You didn't meet her, did you?"
R only shook his head.
"Well, you'll have to go to her."
"I don't want a nickname."
"Well," Coal shrugged as he leant in closer, peering at one of his jars attentively, "she'll give you a nickname anyway. Everyone gets one. We can't go with only a letter, can we? Only L doesn't have a nickname." He added quietly, as if R was not meant to hear that.
"L?" The famous letter caught his interest. R glanced up from his cereals. "Why?"
"Don't know. Maybe 'cause he's the best student. The oldest, too. He's got some benefits we don't, I s'pose."
R's eyes wandered over the many heads that crowded the place, until his gaze froze on obsidian eyes that instantly locked with his, and he found himself unable to avert these two mesmerizing black orbs.
L was sitting opposite him, though at the other edge of the cafeteria, at the very last table standing right next to the white stone wall. His knees bent to his chest, his spider-like hand closed around a fork which was planted in a giant slice of cake, he was perfectly motionless as his pupil-less eyes pierced through R.
After what seemed like an eternity, L finally looked down, focusing back on his cake. And the charm was broken.
Mirroring the elder, R reported his gaze on his now empty bowl.
"If you're thinking about approaching him..." Coal interrupted his thoughts, still he could as well be talking to his animal friends as he was still staring at his jars thoughtfully, without paying attention to the younger student.
"Give up."
All of a sudden, the frizzy-haired boy gathered all his jars into his void plate and stood up, revealing a white stained shirt and green plaid pants with emerald braces. In a blink of an eye, he disappeared from the cafeteria. And R attended to his last toast of orange marmelade.
We're all geniuses. That's why... We are all mad here.
The classes were very bizarre, to say the least. Like in any other school, there was a teacher — man or woman — who spoke to them and wrote some statements or calculations on a dark board. But there stood the main difference: instead of requiring of them to solve the equations or decipher the words, the teachers simply sat at their desk at the front of the room, after one same odd sentence they all pronounced solemnly, their eyes flying over the whole class, "Here is your predicament. Do whatever you can."
So R did what he was being told. He plunged himself into his blank sheet and tried to solve the problem... but it would seem that was not how it worked at the Wammy's House.
As soon as the teacher sat at their desk, one child exclaimed, almost shouting, saying what he thought at loud to the entire class. Then naturally, another kid answered, which lead other students to retort and participate. And so the class begun.
These classes were not about reflecting on an issue, for that would be too ordinary. This was about debating, defending their point of view, trying to convince the other students that their way, their ideas was the best.
This classes were not about individual prowess. It was about proving that you were the cleverest.
R smiled to himself.
I am going to prove them.
Yes, finally. Finally my life is going to be a challenge.
They were in Economy class, and the daily subject was "the gender theory". A blonde, black clad boy younger than him, six years old perhaps, a few ranks before him, was grunting to express his views.
"Gender theory, uh? The name says it all, doesn't it? The gender theory, not the gender demonstration or whatever." His blonde bangs swung on his shoulders as he shrugged. "It's only a theory, nothing about it is true."
"If it's only a theory," R replied smoothly, his gaze fixed on the black-dressed back, "why then do the game industries take it into account to design their games? Barbie dolls for girl and cars for boys, for instance? Theory or not, it does have an impact on the business world, and as a consequence, on the mere consumer. Whether the ideas they spread are right or wrong, they're implanted in the people's brain all the same. So now the question is, what does the government gain from it?"
"That is the question, indeed."
A deep, cold voice imposed silence on the whole assembly, as well as on the teacher who looked at the front rows of chair in awe. R scanned the room for the student who dared answer him, but he could not find where the entrancing voice came from.
For the first time since the beginning of the class, the middle-aged teacher cleared his throat. "What do you mean, L?" He asked hesitantly, his voice trembling slightly.
R widened his eyes.
L? The oldest, greatest student? Is that him?
"What I mean, professor," the emotionless voice continued, immune to the general astonishment, "is that R asked the correct question. However..."
"However?" The teacher frowned at the white and blue crouched silhouette R had just spotted several ranks before.
"However I have an answer to provide him."
R arched a quizzical eyebrow, waiting for that oh so expected answer.
"Yet, I am sure R could have figured it out himself as the answer is quite simple. What the government gains from the gender theory is obvious, for it is the two things it has ever sought." He paused, as if rejoicing in the effect he was producing. "Money and legitimacy. I will not dwell on the former, I believe that much is clear. About the latter, it is a bit more complicated. The gender theory aims to prove that men and women do not share the same interests, nor the same activities. By doing that, they can justify all the inequalities they are unable to eradicate. Indeed, what a better way to protect the patriarchy than convince the whole population that it is not the government who wishes to treat women differently, but the entire society. To summarize, for the government, the gender theory is nothing but a—"
"Weapon."
R had spoken without warning, nonetheless this did not mean he hadn't thought out his assertion. Unsurprisingly enough, his intervention was followed by a deathly silence.
The nine-year-old child, after several days of class, had gathered that L, the oldest and cleverest student, probably never talked in class, and to cause him to speak for the first time, that was already considered science-fiction, but to dare interrupt him like that, that was nothing short of a miracle.
R raised his head to meet the teacher's protruding eyes, as if waiting for the only adult in the room to break the tense silence. But it did not happen. Instead of the drowsy tone of the grey-haired man, a cool, mechanical voice echoed in the classroom, imposing a new respectful, thick silence upon the audience.
"It would seem I finally found myself an equal."
L's voice was so low, so neutral it could as well have been a tribute or a mortal threat. And when the teacher dismissed the children, R, just like the twenty-four other pupils, was left speechless, while a soundless, baffled whisper was running through the rooms and corridors of the House, twirling and swirling in all the inhabitants' heads.
L has never considered someone an equal.
After dinner, R crossed the path of many other students going back to their dormitories, just like him. In fact, there were no proper dormitories at Wammy's House, for every pupil had their own bedroom and bathroom.
The rooms were all situated on the second floor, in a large, luminous white corridor which contained two rows of doors facing each other. Above the door lay a number, while on the upper part of the door was carved a letter, the number corresponding to the place of the letter in the alphabet. Thus, R was staying in Room 18, whose door wrote the letter R.
On his way to Room 18, R bumped into the Deputy director, who looked down at him coldly.
"Good evening, R. Please go to your room." The icy blue eyes of the vice-director then lingered somewhere above R's head, which caused the latter to glance back over his shoulder. Roger called whoever was walking behind him, his tone harsh and final. "E. When will you stop drinking this at any time of the day and night?"
Eventually, R was able to picture the person the old man was talking to. A tall, slender feminine silhouette drew from the darkness, revealing a chestnut-haired girl with amber eyes, straight nose and strict cheekbones. Her wavy hair was so long they covered her backside completely. On top of her head rested a scarlet red wool bonnet. She was wearing an oversized crimson velvet jumper which almost hid her hands and a thin, black velvet leggings which ended with black high boots. When R followed Roger's eyes, he caught sight of a large balloon glass filled with a dark red liquid matching the girl's sweater perfectly.
Her appearance gave off a general feeling of quirky refinement and an aura of secretive calm compared to that of a cryptic, welcoming fortune teller. She seemed hardly younger than L, probably around fourteen or fifteen years old.
When her dark amber eyes rose to lock with Roger's, her lips painted in dark red stretched to form a deviant smile. When she spoke, her voice was smooth like silk and yet sharp like a golden knife.
"I am merely thirsty, Roger. But who isn't, in these times of drought?" She tilted her head to the side, and he thought for an instant that her cap would fall, but it didn't. "It seems some of us managed to find solace in the desert, isn't it? Well, it is a scarce commodity." Then, her gleaming eyes fell on R and her lips widened. "Goodnight, R. Do not forget to close your window."
And as soon as it appeared, the velvet ghost vanished into the dark. R dared to look up at the Deputy director to find him glaring daggers at empty space, and he deduced that the senseless girl left Roger just as frustrated as himself. Then, the white-haired man lowered his gaze to the child, his vitreous eyes glowering behind his rectangular spectacles.
"Go to your room now, R." He said gravely as he dusted his vest. "Goodnight."
And he passed him, his shoes clapping on the parquet floor. But as R had placed a hand on his doorknob, he heard the footsteps stop.
"Oh, and..." Roger marked a pause, clearing his throat, as if reluctant to say what he was about to tell him. "Close the window."
R simply nodded to show his understanding as the knob clicked open. He entered his room, locking the door behind him, and he couldn't suppress a shiver. He switched on the light, and searching for the source of the chilling breeze, he looked up. He froze.
The window was wide open.
A loud banging noise extricated the new Wammy's child from his peaceful slumber.
Groaning, he disregarded the linen and rose from his bed. He headed to the door and opened it swiftly. He frowned at the sight before him. Three pairs of twinkling eyes met his.
Before him stood a toned, well-built shaved boy whose body was coated with tattoos, a slightly smaller one completely clad in denim and a ghostly, pallid girl with tangled platine hair, wearing nothing but a body-lengthed white nightshirt which dragged on the ground and a cotton shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders. They all looked not older than twelve years old.
"R?" The biggest of the three growled at him.
"Yes, it's me." He yawned, raising a hand to his mouth. "What do you want?"
The tall bald boy weighed him up, crossing his arms above his muscular chest. "We wanna know why you're so different."
R furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief, the tiredness obviously not helping his lethargic state. "What do you mean, different?"
"Different." The older boy huffed, as if stating the evidence. "L called you his equal. He never said that, not even to E or N. So tell me, R." He spat, leaning closer, his brown eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Why are you so different?"
"Well, I don't know." R sighed wearily, trying to gather all the patience he had left. "To be honest, I don't know him very well. I've heard many things about that mysterious L, but I never really talked to him. I'm sorry but I can't answer you."
"Ah!" The tattooed kid scoffed raucously, and his jean clad friend echoed him while their white girl friend startled slightly, joining her hands together, her bloodless lips moving in silence. "Don't serve me this, R." He lowered his voice to a dangerous, menacing murmur as he reached up to put a hand on the wall above R's shoulder. "I know there's something. There must be something 'cause L never considered any of us. He doesn't care. He's like a machine! He never talks to anyone." The older child clenched his jaw. "As far as we know, the only person he ever acknowledged is Eve, and we're not even sure he talked to her! But then you came and suddenly he started to speak! He even participated to a class! He addressed you directly! He called you his equal! It must mean something!"
All of a sudden, it was as if the remaining of control he had snapped and the agitated boy seized R's collar, bringing his face to his violently. "So now, you're gonna tell me, little one! What did you do? Who are you? Why are you so different? Why does L—"
"Why don't you ask him directly, G?" A deadpan voice coming from the dark cut him off abruptly.
G let go of R at lightning speed and stepped back, turning on his heels to face the slouched silhouette that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Blinking in shock, the bald boy held his hands up in defeat, stuttering miserably.
"Hey, L! Uh... We didn't mean to— I mean, we only wanted to know... We wished no harm, you know!"
"Of course." L said, his voice as cold as frost. He approached the small group that had formed in front of Room 18, and his onyx eyes instantly found R's brown orbs. "G, J, V." He called emotionlessly, without averting his gaze from R once. "I suppose you do not want Roger to know about this little nocturnal getaway of yours." R swore he saw G and J shudder in fear. "So now go back to your dormitories. In silence."
At his greatest surprise, the three kids did not argue and left to their respective rooms. R did not move, even when the dark-haired male walked towards him and reached out a bony hand that found his shirt collar, fidgeting around his neck in an attempt at arranging it. His touch was as chilling as his voice.
"I apologize for the disturbance." L declared quietly as he withdrew his hand slowly, tucking it back into his pockets. "Young children are always the most troublesome. I hope aging will bring a little wisdom to these three imps."
R eyed the older boy suspiciously, not even bothering to nod in agreement.
"Very well. Now you should go back to sleep, R." L added silently, and R was sure his voice had turned softer. "I shall see you tomorrow in class. Goodnight."
With those words, the oldest student turned away and started towards the other end of the corridor, when R half whispered half shouted at him.
"Wait, L!" He heard L's deadly slow footsteps freeze and his figure came to a standstill in the semi darkness. "Do you never talk to anyone? Am I different?"
In the gloomy light, he believed he saw L's shoulders raise and fall, as if suppressing a chuckle, or perhaps a sigh.
His body was completely motionless, shining white in the shadows, when he answered so quietly only R could hear his phantom voice.
"You are different."
Author's Note:
Here is the second chapter, which introduced you to other Wammy's children. I hope you liked it.
Next chapter, there will be a time jump. The whole story will set when R and L are older, so the first years will pass quickly.
Anyway, thank you for reading. Please tell me what you think and leave a review, that would mean a lot to me.
Bye bye, humans!
C.