Author's Note: Okay. I finally revised this. A thousand thanks to Toph13139 and their great and helpful suggestions. The main plot points of the chapter are pretty much the same, but some things have been embellished or re-worded. So if you have already read, don't feel the need to re-read in order to grasp what is happening later on in the story. Thank you for putting up with me for this long, everyone. Your support, reviews, and interest mean the world.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters used in this story.
As the seasons flew by, Roger watched the landscape outside his office window change ever so subtly, and so did he watch B change. The boy had taken a decided turn for the better after hearing of L, performing well in class again and interacting with his peers in an almost normal way. He had his moments of peculiarity, but nothing like before.
Roger managed to strike up a kind of half-friendship with B, whom he saw rather frequently because of orders from L. The detective had taken a special interest in him, often requesting that he participate in problem solving tests the other children did not. B passed all of them with flying colors, and even answered a few questions in ways that genuinely impressed L.
L had become much more active in the affairs of Wammy's House after giving his first order, and Roger was actually almost pleased with the result. Every suggestion the prodigy made managed to improve the orphanage in some way. He guessed wisdom had come with age: L was now in his early twenties.
Following along with the goal of the institution became much easier with L behind the wheel, and seeing B's success actually made Roger feel good about what he was doing on some days. Maybe there was still hope for these children.
B reveled in hearing about L's approval of him, and often used the opportunities to steal more information from Roger. He found that if he phrased questions just right, he could learn more than what Roger intended to tell him. Employing these methods, he had not only managed to ascertain L's brilliant patterns of deduction, but a lot of other, more personal information. How L sat, what L wore…
The day of B's greatest achievement came just around his seventeenth birthday, when he went to Roger's office for a scheduled meeting. Roger emerged from his office to call B in, but fumbled with his name for a moment upon seeing him. Much like the owner of a large number of dogs, who cannot remember which one he is yelling at for tearing up the curtains, and rattles off all their names until he gets to the right one. He had started to call B, L. Roger laughed it off, wondering how he could make such a silly slip, but B took it straight to heart.
He was getting closer to his goal. Soon he wouldn't have to hide his fear and despair any longer, he would become L and gain the powerful, indifferent worldview he longed for.
As if Roger's botched designation wasn't good enough, B received a pack of L's notes that day. He was to study them and gain a better insight into L's methods. He would not just study them. He would worship them.
He read the papers every morning before breakfast and every night after lights out. They traveled everywhere with him, and it was not long before the other students took notice.
They looked at him with a mixture of jealousy and admiration, all the while wondering how someone who was once so hopelessly weird had become the number one student in the institution. Whenever he was approached, he played out his careful L act, displaying gentle smiles at the correct moments and considering everything they said with perfectly timed meditation. It was difficult for B, almost painful, but it was just something that had to be done.
Throughout it all, there was something that kept the other students from getting too close to him. A feeling that something wasn't right. It was like a spooky porcelain doll displayed in the window of high-end toy shop. The taint was not obvious, but there was something in the doll's painted expression. A creature dressed in that kind of finery should not be wearing such an expression.
Regardless, there were still some who wished to outdo him. They would come to him asking for homework assistance with the intention of trying to steal what he knew the way B had stolen it from Roger. B knew what they were doing, and each time he brushed their subtle attacks off with a shield of L mannerisms and a belly-full of repressed hatred.
A group of such students confronted B one day as he sat crouched in a mess hall chair eating sugar cubes originally intended for coffee. The perfect picture of L.
"Hey there, B," a girl, who went by G, said colloquially, glancing at the small, mixed-gender group behind her.
"Hello, G," B said without looking up, trying to maintain as L-ish a manner as possible.
"We couldn't help but notice the papers you've been carrying around. They're from L, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"We were wondering if we could take a look. I mean, we're all trying to follow in his footsteps. It might be useful, right?"
She smiled innocently and gave a slight nervous giggle.
B struggled to keep his L act going when he heard her request. Never, ever had anyone been this disgustingly blatant before. They wanted to see L's notes? The precious thoughts incarnate that had been granted to him alone? Were they crazy?
It took everything B had not to widen his eyes and begin screaming. He couldn't do that. He was L now. L didn't do that kind of thing.
"No, I'm sorry, G," B replied in a bored voice.
"Aw, why not?"
Because you're not even half worthy. L didn't choose you. You don't even know L's favorite food. L wouldn't choose any of you if he had a gun to his head.
"I'm still trying to figure out some information from them. Maybe later when I'm done."
"Get out of here, G," said a boy from the group behind her as he physically shoved the girl aside. "You make a crappy spokesperson."
It was D. He hadn't grown much since his days of torturing A, but his terrible attitude seemed to have tripled in size.
"Fork over the papers, B. It's not fair that you get an advantage."
B felt his composure starting to slip. He could not deal with this asshole right now.
"I would appreciate it if you would leave. I'm trying to study."
"We're not leaving until you give us what we want."
D took an intimidating step forward.
B fell out of his careful façade in that moment. The demeanor that it had taken years to perfect shattered like a dropped wine glass. He looked up with a quick, bird-like motion and turned his furious eyes on D.
"I'm not giving you anything."
Hearing his own tone of voice was both sickening and refreshing.
Some of the other members of the group flinched at B's noticeable change of tone, but D remained where he was.
The shorter male advanced on B and knocked the papers from his hands. They fluttered to the ground like wounded butterflies and settled at the feet of the other students. No one moved or attempted to pick them up.
D gave a sadistic, satisfied smile and knelt to begin the task.
B stood up out of his L crouch in a slow, deliberate motion that made him look like a transforming movie werewolf and stepped off the chair. He strode up to D and looked down at him.
"Knowledge is a dangerous thing, D. Are you sure you want to read the papers?"
"Stop trying at those stupid mindgames you played as a kid, B. No one's scared of you anymore."
The looks on his companions' faces seemed to indicate otherwise, but B paid it no mind.
D stood up holding a handful of papers triumphantly and smirked at B. The tall, dark-haired teen waited until D started reading to kneel down himself and pretend to pick up some of the remaining papers.
D took the bait just as predicted and attempted to kick B over, but B fell onto all fours and spun around to grab D's foot. It was a rather familiar scene.
"Did you learn anything?" B asked as he grasped D's ankle.
The other boy hopped pitifully to maintain his balance.
"I'm asking you a question, D. Did you learn anything?"
D whimpered, but made no reply.
B looked the boy straight in the eye and twisted his foot as far as he could until he heard cracking, and then just a little further for good measure. D fell to the ground cringing and sobbing.
"Looks like ignorance is even more dangerous than knowledge."
The stunned group helped D to his feet and gaped at B in horror.
"Wh-What was… that?" G stammered, her face pale and beginning to prickle with beads of sweat. "Why did you--"
"Shut up, G," B snapped. "You know very well what you were doing. At least D had the courage to openly exhibit his jealous defects. Although, if you had been just a little gutsier, it would have been you on the floor. Maybe you should consider yourself lucky that you're an ass-kissing little coward."
B bent down to pick up his papers for real this time, giving G a slight glance over his shoulder.
"Unless you'd like to try to change my opinion."
G blanched completely and turned to leave, the whole group following behind her, helping the injured D from the room.
That felt good. Not so much the fact that he had injured someone he hated. Just the momentary shedding of his mask. As important as L was, there were some parts of himself that he missed. Oh well. Sacrifices had to be made in order to gain…
B finished picking up his papers and returned to his L-crouch, picking up reading where he had left off.
Minutes later, Roger stormed into the mess hall like some gaunt, elderly tornado, catching B off guard. Roger never stormed. Heck, Roger rarely even left his office.
"B," he said in voice tainted with disappointment and restricted anger. "My office. Now."
B watched the man in horror. It wasn't because he thought he was in trouble, or going to be punished, but just the breaking of a years-long routine. Roger was supposed to sit behind his desk and tell B how much he was like L. He wasn't supposed to get angry and fling doors open.
It was the same kind of fear born of unfamiliarity that caused a bird in a new cage to messily loose its bowels and rip out its own feathers.
B followed silently, his facial expressions flickering between his own and L's in an attempt to try to grasp what was going on.
Upon reaching Roger's office, he was asked to sit in a chair adjacent to the desk: the chair he always sat in when receiving praise or testing his L-dialogue in a small-talk conversation. He hesitated for a moment, almost sitting normally instead of in a crouch.
"B, you are certainly mature enough to realize what you did to your classmate this evening and I will tell you right now: there will be no excuses."
B almost let his mask fall again in shock. Was he being reprimanded for hurting D? No one was ever reprimanded! This was ridiculous!
"You seriously injured him, B. Why would you do something like that?"
The black-haired teen turned his head slightly, clinging to his façade as it began to come undone for the second time that day.
"Why is this all the sudden an issue, Roger? Kids fight in here all the time. No one's ever done anything about it before."
"Kids fight all the time. You are no longer a child, B. I thought you had left all that behavior behind you."
'All that behavior'? He meant B's self. And, yes, he had left it behind. He was L now. He had just made a mistake.
"You have amazing insight, B. You know who is a threat and who isn't. You also know when to stop if you need to defend yourself. Why didn't you?"
Crack.
B jumped to his feet and glared at Roger.
"They wanted my notes."
Roger could not hide the shock in his eyes.
"This is all about not wanting to share a pack of papers?"
"A pack of papers?" B asked in an off-kilter voice. "Those are L's thoughts, Roger. They were given to me for a reason."
"They were given to you because you displayed impressive intelligence and maturity. Did we make a mistake? Because you showed neither of those things this evening."
B began to breathe heavily as if holding back tears.
"You don't understand! L would w-"
"This isn't about L," Roger said, raising his voice slightly. "This is about you." He paused and took on a gentler tone. "…Should I be worried, B?"
B didn't have an answer.
Roger sighed and rested his chin on his hands.
"Why don't you go back to your room? We'll deal with this further when you've calmed down."
B got up to leave, but Roger called to him a final time before he reached the door.
"I'm not angry at you, B. I'm just concerned. You can't be acting like that, especially if you're going to take on L's position."
---------------------------------------------------
As B made his way back to his room, his head was spinning.
What Roger had basically told him was that he was incompatible with L. That any shred of self he had left would sabotage him. And all the while his numbers had been glaring.
Where was the relief? It had been years. Why didn't he feel better by now?
He had worn L's clothes, his facial expressions, his voice… Why couldn't he fit into his mindset?
Unless…
No. No, that would mean everything he had worked for was useless.
That he had made a mistake.
L didn't make mistakes.
…
But, he wasn't L, was he?
He was some other miserable human being.
As much as he tried, as many corners as he shaved off, there was still no fitting a square peg into a round hole. For no matter how smooth the square became, it would never be a circle. It would just be a grossly disfigured shape left to stare at the pieces of itself it could never get back.
What made him so different? What made him so defective that his very being was an affront to L?
The eyes. It all came down to the eyes.
L never had to see the world the way B did. And he never would.
It was foolish of B to assume that L could handle his crisis.
He had made a revoltingly naïve mistake.
L would probably crack under such morbidity.
But not B.
B was still here despite the pain and the sorrow. Perhaps B had been the stronger one all along.
But B was in pieces. There was no way to gather and re-glue them all back together again.
That bastard had taken them. Hidden them away.
Well, he would just have to find substitutes. Pieces of L to hold himself together at the seams.
He would be a tortured, mismatched puzzle, but he would have the clarity of two conjoined souls.
The visual lucidity that was beyond his flesh, beyond his birthday…
And the cerebral perception of the faceless man who had robbed him of his identity…
In that moment, B threw out the name of his birth. The name he had wept at the loss of years ago.
It had been languishing in the back of his mental pantry for far too long and there was no doubt that the contents were now toxic.
He could never go back.
He threw out his meaningless letter. The name that linked him to A and the upheaval that the little runt had caused in his mind.
He never wanted to go back.
B gave himself a new title, birthed from the words of his frenzied revelation and the chimera of a being he would become.
Beyond Birthday.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed or have suggestions for improvement!