A/N: Hey, what's up, everybody? I love putting up this story so much, I put one of my other ones on temp hiatus. Because, admittedly, I do get a little torn when it comes to these things. I am a writer who's devoted to the fans and means it when she says it...unlike certain celebrities. Oh, and one more thing: this story won't be updated until Tuesday or Wednesday. I feel I got to type more chapters in this, so I don't run out. And, I got another story, and, AH WORK OVERLOAD! But, I should be OK. XD

Disclaimer: Don't own Death Note, only V/Victoria Lawliet. But, V is better, because V is an awesome name (am I right V for Vendetta fans?).

Chapter 3: Friendship

Regretfully, the day of my eighth year was the last time I saw L for years. With a quickly uttered promise to contact me, he said his farewell and into Watari's limo he went. I watched forlornly from the lobby window, but shed no tears; I felt that I had outgrown them. Besides, the sun shining brightly that day served as a positive omen, a sign that perhaps life would improve. Having that in mind, I held optimism deeply in my heart once I noticed that the glistening black limo glided past the gates. My brother, I knew, would find success in life as would I. I could at least have some peace in that.

Ensuring to follow through on my oath to L, I never revealed the secret of the lineage to either Mello or Matt. As much as I yearned to tell them, I would always assume that Mello especially would grudge Near for taking his spot. Really, the blond was having enough trouble as it was being number two out of all of us at Wammy's. No matter how often Matt and I tried to assure him that we hardly cared about his rank, he wouldn't listen. His already foul attitude toward life had darkened along with his choice of clothing.

Luckily, he still stood steadfastly by us, as only loyal friends can.

In fact, Mello came through for me during a particular recess during which I perched on the front steps in my odd fashion—one leg close to me, the other one stretched out. Hungrily, I absorbed every detail of the book I grasped in my hands; it told of what to look for in a liar. For, yes, my interests piqued for psychology, taking into account it could serve as a major impact for my future. Obviously, though, gruff boys don't care about knowledge.

A group of six hulking adolescents gathered around me as I carefully turned a page.

Before I could register what would happen, the book was rudely knocked out of my hands. I looked up to give the boys a hostile glare devoid of eyebrows, which only proved even more that I looked like a female version of my brother.

One of the bullies guffawed at my silent but deadly expression. "What's the matter, V? Don't like us picking on you? Humph, it's too bad your brother isn't here!"

"Be quiet," I murmured in my deathly calm.

"That's all you can say? Aw, poor V—her famous brother doesn't have time for her!"

Aware that the ringleader of this foolish circus of buffoons was waging psychological warfare on me, I still remained entirely emotionless. I wasn't about to permit these boys to glimpse my tears. That would hardly work any more, not on me. I apathetically placed my hands on top of my kneecaps until one of the idiots slapped me across the face.

Barely wincing, I merely uttered, "Ouch."

"Want some more?!?" the boy who struck me challenged, his eyes aflame with fury, probably at the fact I kept my placidity intact.

I stood up, picked up my abandoned book, and set it aside on the porch, all the while plotting my next objective. My endless dark eyes never left my enemies' the whole time. They merely ogled me stupidly, wondering what I would do.

Good, that was just the overall reaction I wanted.

"Boys, you underestimate me," I spoke in my older, wiser, and ten-year-old voice. "My brother ensured to teach me a certain fighting technique before he left."

"Oh? Well, show us!"

The leader's words became minced when I landed a high kick right on his stomach, causing him to stumble backwards. His lackeys looked on, noticeably stunned. Satisfied with this result, I decided to resume reading as though nothing had happened between me and them. I thought how pathetic it was that they would dare to fight a lone girl whom they clearly outnumbered.

Unfortunately, these delinquents were dirty fighters.

Incensed from having a mere girl kick him, the leader slapped the book away from my hands again. This somewhat bothered me.

"Are you really that stupid?" I inquired, titling my head to the side. "What have I ever done to all of you that would compel you to act this way?"

"You exist!" the boy snapped and proceeded to punch me in the head.

"Nice comeback," I softly quipped. "Surely, you can find a better excuse than that."

I was prepared to battle again before a welcome face intruded on the scene.

"You leave her alone, you idiots! What the hell's your problem anyway?!?" an extremely infuriated Mello roared as he sprinted right toward my oppressors.

"Mello?!? Oh...uh...see, we were just playing with her, that's all." One of them grinned idiotically, putting on an innocent act. Even though most of them were a fair three years older than him, the boys knew better than to trifle with Mello. In fact, he seemed completely enraged; nothing could soothe him in his savage, beastly state. He pummeled those teenagers to the ground, despite them being double his size. I watched, purely amazed at how threatening Mello could act within a blink of an eye.

Groaning pitifully from the injuries they had accumulated, the bullies slowly backed away from the stoop, where I stood to my full height. Once doing so, I kept in mind that they ran away from me, their "fun" activity of taunting me forgotten permanently.

"I could have taken them on, you know," I told Mello, who panted while regaining his breath. He merely smirked mirthlessly at me.

"You could have, but you wouldn't have lasted long."

"True, but don't you realize you'll get in trouble for this?"

Shrugging, he conveyed to me that he could honestly care less about his fate; after all, his childhood innocence had vanished too soon, tainted with the poison of a bitter life. I sympathized with him, remembering his long angry, venomous rants each time he came out as the loser by a slim margin. All of us at Wammy's hated to lose, especially Mello. And, even as I saw Roger lead him to the main office two minutes later, I knew that he still had some benevolence tucked away.

Despite his increasingly worse reputation as the resident bad boy, he maintained the loyalty to his friends. He would stick up for Matt and me in any situation that came our way. For, honestly, that was the type of person Mello could be whenever he felt like it; we as his best friends respected that. The other children could never truly comprehend how much he had to go through in his life—maybe not even us. As long as he stayed with us to the end, though, we would be fine, simple as that.

Matt, on the other hand, contrasted with Mello entirely personality-wise. He preferred to not pick fights with the other children and liked to keep to himself. The only way I managed to befriend him as a toddler had come in the form of me finding a lost game cartridge. From then on, we became best friends because of that simple trinket. Despite his refusal of associating with others apart from us, Matt showed a mostly concealed outgoing side to Mello and me. He reveled in cracking sardonic jokes, earning an occasional smirk or smile. I used to tell my redheaded friend that he should attempt befriending the rest of the orphans, but his response was always the same: a flat "no."

Maybe he never rested enough faith upon himself or perhaps he abhorred putting forth the effort; I'll never know for sure. Truthfully, Matt as a child was ever the sloth-like individual. He focused on video games most of the time, rarely losing a level on any of them that he owned. However, one of these infrequent times occurred when we were both twelve, which served as a landmark age for him—he tried his first cigarette. He had this plan to smoke constantly when he reached the age of fourteen; confidentially, he informed me by saying he couldn't risk Roger catching him in the act.

But, my mind has wandered, so that I am compelled to tell this story involving me and him. Bored on a languid Saturday afternoon (no classes), I paced back and forth in the common room, sparing glances at the blissful children playing kickball outside. I recall often desiring to play this sport, though knew that the consequences of actually going with my want would torment me.

As I have mentioned, I wasn't popular nor did any of the kids wish to have anything to do with me. They loathed me, which disheartened me slightly.

Consistently, I told myself, "If only my IQ had been a few points lower or my pride would be easy to swallow, I wouldn't be such a dismal failure at making friends."

I merely thought my problems had something to do with the complicated facets of me. If I changed myself, I assumed, people would tolerate me or at least learn to. But, I was aware that no matter how hard I could try, I couldn't pull it off.

Some child whose name began with a K kicked the rubber ball out of the field, which made his teammates erupt into cheers. The sun shone brightly upon him as he sprinted from base to base, surely causing his victory to taste all the sweeter. I tapped my fingers against the window and heaved a melancholy sigh. No one had ever encouraged me apart from my brother. But, I knew he was incredibly busy with his life's work now, his dream that he had managed to realize. I felt so alone at that moment.

"Hey, V," I heard Matt say as though he was on the verge of a suggestion, "do you want to play my video games with me?"

Alleviated from my oncoming misery, I turned toward him. He was lounging on the battered old sofa while eating potato chips; despite his snacking, he looked bored. Then again, nothing ever seemed to cure Matt's boredom except video games.

A smile almost overwhelmed my lips when I murmured, "All right, I would love to."

His whole face lit up optimistically once I bestowed my assent to him; oddly enough, I seemed to compel him to smile more than Mello could. Well, almost—Mello pulled often (and I regret to admit this) funny stunts.

Matt rolled off the sofa and onto the floor, lazy as he was. Motioning me to follow him, he raced up the stairs eagerly to his room, where four consoles lay in wait. He turned on the television before assessing his foot-high stack of video games; analytically, he pondered over which one to choose. I was, fortunately, a patient person, so I perched gingerly on his bed, my eyes glowing with barely hidden excitement. I enjoyed spending time with my friends, whom I cherished above all else (apart from L, of course, considering he served as my only family).

Drifting into my fantasy world, I scarcely took notice that Matt had popped a CD into one of his consoles until he tapped my hand.

"Are you going to play or are you just going to fall asleep on me?" he joked light-heartedly as he offered me a controller.

"I assure you, I'm awake. I merely have the bad habit of spacing out," I replied as wittily.

We faced each other in virtual combat by playing a mindless fighting game. I could distinguish the line between fiction and reality, though, so the blood that spilled from the characters didn't frighten me. Most girls would have run away to cower and sob as though traumatized. However, I differed from all the other girls in the orphanage, simply due to my willingness to try new things. Pressing certain buttons as quickly as I could, I forced my character to strike Matt's with a flaming sword. He pressed the buttons on his controller feverishly, attempting to get his character to retaliate.

Gaining the upper hand, he smirked with self-satisfaction at his gift to play video games at superhuman speed. No one could ever equal his virtual victories.

But, to our surprise, I realized that I had killed his character with a medieval ball-and-chain weapon. Stunned, I dropped my controller upon seeing the word "winner" flash on my portion of the screen.

"Wow, V," Matt whispered, his mouth falling open. "You actually beat me."

He sounded incredulous when he said this—so much so, that I jumped to conclusions by wondering if he was enraged toward me. After all, since he immersed himself in gaming, he treated playing as though he was in the actual game.

My worries were put to rest when he flashed a pearly white grin at me. "Good job! Not even Mello can beat me at this game. You got some real skills."

I blushed from the compliment, though only a light pink tinge touched my face. "Thank you, I'm not used to receiving such high praise from the master."

Pretending to possess humility, Matt exclaimed, "Really? You think I'm that good?!? Well, V, I don't know what to say."

"Don't get too cocky, Matt. You might get beaten again."

When he gave me a bewildered stare, I laughed for the first time in three years.

My friends truly are valuable to me, more so than all the riches on this earth.

A/N: V kicked some serious arse in this chapter, didn't she? Well, I was determined when originally writing this that she wouldn't be a defenseless Mary Sue. No, she was gonna learn the capoiera (I think that's how it's spelled) and use it whenever necessary. Another little fact: V's birthday is June 12th, 1990. And I hope you guys don't mind some tweaking on both the timelines of the manga and anime. I wasn't aware of them until too late. I was obsessing over V being around the same age as her best friends, as well as having not too big of an age difference between her and L. So, sorry about that. Anyway, review! Review like the wind!