The boy really had no name.
It was so sad, really, that that one charming, funny, smart boy lacked not only a family, a stable life, a childhood, but a name as well.
What was "Lavi" anyway? Just something to call him or sign with. Nothing special. Nothing worthwhile. Nothing that mattered.
Except…it did. He knew that his job was probably the most important one in the world, but did it have to strip all of that away? Even though he'd only been the Bookman's apprentice for about 11 years (the two had met when Lavi was orphaned at age 7) but he'd already forgotten his real name. His birth name.
Again, he tried not to let it get to him. But by sacrificing his name, he'd sacrificed his identity, his personality, and his life to be molded into some strange old man's version of "right".
49 names.
49 identities.
49 new lives.
49 wars.
49 records.
49 people.
Lavi tried as hard as he possibly could to be the best Bookman he could be, but subconsciously it tore him up. And then he met Allen, Lenalee, Kanda, and everybody else. Those people had complete names, identities. They could live their lives and make just as much of a difference as he was, but they got to be themselves.
At first, Lavi met them on autopilot. He was there as Bookman, nothing more. But then, heaven forbid, he began to enjoy himself. He gained friends. His personality shined through.
So, when the time came, he knew he'd leave his life for them.
And whatever name he ended up with at that time would stick. That would be the identity he'd live with.
And he'd finally be one person.
Just like everyone else.