-One Year Later-
December 2, 2003
Winchester, England
L sighed heavily as he closed out of the computer program and rose to his feet, having been crouched on the wood-planked floor. He turned and took a few steps with downcast eyes and pocketed hands.
Something deep down was telling him that this case was different... special, somehow. He had never seen anything like it. Criminals all over the world suddenly and inexplicably dying of heart attacks? Something strange was at work here, and L could sense that this was going to be the biggest and most difficult case he'd ever tackled.
He stood for a few moments more, gathering his thoughts, then lifted shadowed, sleep-deprived eyes to look around the small room.
This had been his room, growing up at Wammy's House. There was no bed, no bookshelves, no pictures on the walls. There was a closet lined with a few dozen plain, white shirts and a dresser containing underwear and blue jeans, but not a single sock. The vast majority of the room was taken up by wires, monitors, computer towers, and other various tech. It was here that he had spent most of his late childhood.
L lifted an index finger to scratch the side of his forehead, then returned his hand to his pocket. Sighing again, he stepped over to open the door and exited the room. His bare feet made their way down the hall and to the doorway of the large living room area where several children played with various toys and games. A dreary rain was falling outside, and a cozy fire danced and crackled in the big stone fireplace in the corner.
Five year old Bean was sitting on his knees on the large area rug watching a yellow-haired boy of nearly fourteen put together a model rocket.
"Now I need that piece right there," the older boy said, pointing. He wore all black, and his hair was the color of orange juice.
Bean picked up the specified piece and handed it to the teenager. He appeared to feel quite important and pleased with himself for helping. His dark red hood was up and his black bangs tumbled into his svelte, blue eyes. The ends of both drawstrings were between his top teeth and bottom lip as he intently watched the new piece being attached to the colorful rocket.
Another young teen brushed past L in the doorway and moved to sit cross-legged beside Bean. He wore a red striped shirt, and a pair of orange-lensed motorcycle goggles rested atop his head of aubern hair.
"I got the glue," he said, and he held out a small tube to the boy building the rocket. Then he pulled a hand-held video game out of his pocket and little beeping sounds began to eminate from the buttons.
Bean sat up and shuffled over on his knees to place a hand on the redhead's shoulder. His other hand held one of the hoodie strings up to his mouth.
"That's not Mario," he observed curiously.
"Nah, this is Megaman," the boy with the video game explained. A toothpick protruded from between his teeth and moved jerkily back and forth as he chewed on it.
"L?"
At the sound of the old man's voice, L looked over to see Watari standing beside him.
"Oh, Watari. I need to talk to you," he said, and they turned to stand in the hallway.
"What is it, L?" the old man asked.
"This new case..." L began slowly. "I believe that it will require us moving to Japan for an extended period of time."
"Japan?" Watari seemed surprised. "Why there?"
"There is a strong possibility that this killer- 'Kira,' as they are calling him- is located in Japan."
"And it's not something you feel you can solve from here?"
L sighed. "No. No, this case is different, Watari. I can feel it." His voice was low and contemplative.
Watari nodded. "And what about Bean? If this Kira is as dangerous as they are saying, do you think it would it be better for him to perhaps stay here?"
L lifted a thumb to his mouth and looked into the living room. The boy with the video game leaned in toward Bean and cupped his hand over his mouth to whisper some secret. The five year old wrinkled his little nose and snickered.
"No, Watari," L said slowly. "Where I go, he goes."
"But-"
L swung his head over to face Watari again. "He's with me," he interjected firmly. He stood in his curved posture with his arms bent at the elbows and his hands loosely in his pockets. His grey eyes sparked with resolve from behind strands of jet-black hair. Then, looking into the living room once more, he repeated quietly, "He stays with me."
Watari nodded slowly. "Very well. How would you like to proceed for now?"
L lifted his thumb to his mouth and tucked it under his top lip. "There's an International Criminal Police Organization meeting happening in two days. I would like you to represent me there."
"Will you be addressing the assembly?" the old man inquired.
"Yes," L answered plainly. "I will be requesting the cooperation of the Japanese Police Force. Then, from the meeting, I would like you to proceed with them to their headquarters. I will continue working from here, for the time-being." He looked into the living room again. "But something tells me it won't be long..." His voice trailed off as he thoughtfully gnawed on the end of his thumb.
"L?" Watari's voice held a tone of concern.
"Hm?" L's eyes didn't leave his small son and his "big brothers." The black-clad, yellow-haired boy was letting Bean put stickers on the rocket.
"Is this case... worth taking?" Watari asked carefully. "You seem to feel that it is going to be especially dangerous. Should you perhaps consider your role as a father as taking precedence over your role as a detective?" Watari spoke the words slowly and caringly. He was well aware that L might snap back at him, but he felt he had to say it.
But L made no such retort. Rather, his chest rose and then fell again in a heavy sigh. "I will not have my son growing up in a world where Kira is justice," he said softly, returning his hand to his pocket. Then he looked directly at Watari. "I have an obligation to take this case... both as a detective and as a father."
Watari looked into the younger man's determined eyes, lined with the ever-present shadows of insomnia. But behind that determination, he saw something else. Something unusual for the legendary, brilliant L. It was subtle, shrouded in emotionless stoicism, but it was there; a glint of fear. Of uncertainty. A knowledge that this case contained a darkness beyond anything the world had ever seen.
The old man nodded slowly, beginning to understand.
"I will begin preparations immediately," he said in a dignified manner, and he turned away to do just that.
Two days later, L knelt before the computer on the floor of his room. Quietly, he waited for Watari to connect him to the meeting via webcam. He sat with on knee up, and his elbow rested atop it, the end of his thumb pressed to his bottom lip. He glanced up to a back corner of the room where Bean was quietly playing with a 3,000-piece puzzle. He was sitting on his knees, and the headphones he wore made his hood all bumpy-shaped. One hand held a drawstring to his mouth where his little tongue moved back and forth in concentration, and the other hand carefully hovered long, little fingers over the pile of colorful jigsaw pieces. His cobalt eyes darted back and forth from the unfinished puzzle to the picture on the box.
"Bennett," L said, a little loudly so that the child could hear him over the music.
Bean looked up and L brought an index finger to his lips to remind the little boy that he was to remain very quiet. Bean nodded and repeated the gesture with childish solemnness, then returned his attention to the puzzle.
A smile played with the corner of L's mouth. He lifted his thumb to his mouth again and trailed it thoughtfully over his bottom lip.
The computer made a beeping sound, and L turned his attention to the monitor. A video feed appeared displaying a large lecture hall filled with about a hundred men and women in business-formal attire. Every eye in the room was looking at the screen; every ear was waiting for his synthetic voice.
L looked up at his son one more time. A feeling of great responsibility filled his being; a sense of justice pulsed beneath his plain, white shirt.
The game had begun.
And this was his first move.
Turning back to the computer, he leaned forward and pressed a button on the mic stand before him. He spoke clearly and steadily.
"Greetings to all of you at the ICPO. I am L."