For those who for some reason enjoyed or appreciated the first chapter, here's another for you. L is the main character of this chapter.
A did not come to breakfast the next morning, either. L sat alone at a corner table, watching the students. After a few minutes, one of the older students came to tell him that Watari wanted to see him in his office.
L padded along the corridors to Watari's office, knocked and entered. Watari closed the door behind L, which was not something he normally did at Wammy's, as a rule. He invited L to sit down.
When L was seated, Watari brought his own chair around from behind his desk and sat in front of L.
"L, I have some very sad news," Watari said gravely.
L searched Watari's face for some clue, but all he could deduce was that the news was indeed very sad. "What is it?" he asked, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach.
Watari shook his head, as if he had tried to think of a good way to tell his news and failed. "It's about A."
"Yes?" L waited. He wanted Watari to hurry, but he could see that this was very difficult for his mentor, so he tried to be patient.
Putting a hand on L's shoulder, Watari said gently, "A is dead."
Time seemed to stop. There had to be some way he could fix it. Watari had trained him to solve anything, hadn't he? No... not this. "How?" L asked.
Watari looked down and sighed a long, tired sigh. "I don't want you to tell anyone else this," he said slowly, "but I'm afraid A took his own life."
L's eyes became moist. He stared at Watari's hands. He had never noticed how worn and wrinkled they were.
"He laced a mask with chloroform and put it over his face when he went to bed."
"Are... are you sure he wasn't just using it to go to sleep? And misjudged?" L knew his suggestion was far-fetched at best, but he didn't like the alternative.
"No. It would take very little to put a person to sleep, and the mask was drenched. Also, he had fastened it in place so he would continue to breathe the chloroform in even after he was unconscious. And we found a copy of the key to the medical lab in his drawer. I'm sorry, L, but... it is clear to me that it wasn't an accident," Watari concluded.
L's mind was overwhelmed with the image of B grinning. "No," He said quietly, "I suppose it couldn't have been an accident... but..." he stopped himself.
Watari's eyes became wide. "What are you suggesting?" he asked. Then he relaxed again, looking tired. "L, I know your investigative skills are superb. But this time it is not a case for you to solve. A... left a note..."
L looked up, surprised. "A death note? one you didn't want me to know about," he guessed.
"I didn't want to upset you any more than I had to."
"Well... I know now that it would upset me. The only way to know how much is to let me read it. Please, Watari."
The old teacher sighed and went to retrieve the suicide note from his desk. "It is A's handwriting," he said, guessing L's thoughts. "I'm sure of it."
L took the note, trying not to indulge the thought that B was a clever imitator, that he could easily forge A's writing…
To whom it may concern:
I know that I am not meant to be at the top of this program. But knowing what I know, having learned what I have learned, I do not believe I can strive for any other goal. To the one who discovers my body, I am sorry. And to L I am most sorry that I could not do you justice. When one's trying is not good enough, it is time to choose a different path, I believe. You have my deepest regard. I wish good fortune to all at the Wammy House. I ask that I may be buried near my family, if you know where they lie.
Sincerely, Answered
"Answered?" L asked, keeping his feelings distracted by his curiosity. "I don't remember his ever calling himself that."
Watari shook his head. "He was always just A. But a few of the students used to call him Ask in the old days. When he became more respected, they sometimes called him Answer."
L touched the word on the paper lightly with one forefinger. Answered. "What will you tell the children?" He asked.
"That A has died," Watari replied. "I won't lie to them, but I don't intend to tell them what happened. They are not to know the specifics.
L nodded. "May I see him?"
Watari looked very moved. "I think you had better wait a bit; then ask me again," he instructed.
"All right."
Watari allowed L to see A's body some time later, though he seemed to disapprove.
L looked the student over carefully, lightly touching his hair, gently tilting his head from side to side, examining his hands and wrists. He looked at the surgical mask and its elastic band. At last, he stepped away and allowed Watari to recover the corpse.
"There was no struggle," he said quietly. "No sign that anyone disturbed him."
"I know it is very difficult," Watari began.
"Yes. I'm sorry, Watari. If you have a record of his family's burial sites, you should honor his request."
Watari nodded. "I'll check on that this afternoon."
L hoped that fulfilling A's request would ease Watari's unhappiness. For himself he knew there was no comfort; he would have to bury his anguish as he had done since he was a small child.
That evening, L wandered through the empty hallways after curfew, remembering past visits. At the scoreboard he paused, remembering the students who would put off going to look at it. Some of them even asked their friends to look first, to let them know if it was all right, or to prepare them if the news was bad.
He set his finger in the middle of the list of letters and ran it upwards until it stopped on B. Then he followed the line to the right (everything was written out in English, since it was the main language in which all the students were expected to be fluent) until he reached the collective score for all the tests of the week. "B…..99.9%" He moved his finger up again. "100%" He looked quickly to the left. "A….." A had beaten B. A had gotten full marks on every single question. L moved his finger to his mouth and stared at the board, contemplating.
Did A even see the scores? he wondered. And was it better to be like A, to not be certain, but to do your best and come out on top? Or was it better to be like B, confident to a fault, so sure that you could know that every single answer would stand up to scrutiny, except one?
We will never know. If no one surpassed B, then the cold, calculating genius would be the next L, and there would be no telling what might have been, had A survived. More than the frustration of a difficult puzzle, L hated the frustration of knowing with certainty that a puzzle was unsolvable.
One more chapter coming, for those of you who like depressing stories. Truth be told, I've been planning this one for a while, and I finally got into a bad enough mood to write it!