February 15, 2010

Present

The shrieks of children pierced the walls of the office, muffled but audible and irritating nonetheless. Their screams were followed by a loud thud—a soccer ball bouncing off of glass—that made the window tremble from the impact. Outside, the kids scrambled, worried they were going to be punished for not being careful. Kira was nothing when measured up against a severely pissed-off Mr. Ruvie. They ran to the other side of the field, taking their ball with them, giggles fading away into the distance. Blessed silence followed; Roger sighed, removing his glasses to unnecessarily wipe them with a cloth. They already gleamed, he was simply trying to gather his thoughts. It was a Herculean effort to entertain guests. The last time members of the Japanese police had set foot on the grounds, Near and Mello had been alive.

It was only out of respect to their memory that he remembered the names of the two officers since they had only spent a day asking questions regarding L's successors. Aizawa and Matsuda. Kira had killed them, too. Thankfully, the same cursed luck could not follow the young man seated before him: L, the brilliant young detective who had put an end to the murders. At the very least, the deaths of his students had not been in vain. The tragedy that allowed him to meet the new detective's acquaintance made the evening bittersweet.

"Excuse the noise," Roger said tiredly over tea.

"It's fine," Light said politely. "I have a younger sibling, so I know how excitable children can sometimes be."

"Yes, excitable, a charitable adjective to use."

"You must have an incredible level of focus. I couldn't even hear myself think with my sister in the living room. I can't imagine how work gets done with your office being so close to the Orphanage's playground."

"It's a reminder! Having my office face the yard lets them know the consequences don't simply disappear just because they're outside."

"That makes sense. Troublemakers are less likely to misbehave if they know their authority figure is still watching."

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Roger scoffed, grimacing at the memory of the brawls Mello and Linda constantly had outside, right in front of his window, without caring if he was watching or not. "You must not have much experience dealing with children, other than your sister. They'll cause trouble specifically to spite you—right in front of your face."

"That has to be exhausting. What made you decide to run an orphanage, if you don't mind me asking? Childcare is a lot of work. Not a lot of people fall into it as a profession, not on a whim at least."

"Favor to an old friend. Believe me, I never imagined myself in this line of work. I never had the patience."

"Some favor. It sounds like a lifetime of servitude."

"It was a big debt. Mr. Wammy was a dear friend," Roger admitted, taking a sip of his tea to keep his mind on the present. "Besides, I've not much of a lifetime remaining."

Light frowned. "Well, nobody really knows. It's better not to dwell on how much time we have left and cherish the time we are afforded instead."

'How optimistic. What a bright outlook.' Everything about Light Yagami was bright, wasn't it? There could not have existed a candidate more perfect to succeed L, even if they had hand-selected and raised one themselves. And they had. The universe's sense of humor was cruel. Yet, L's confidence in this new boy was not enough to win Roger over. Kira-catcher or not, Roger had spent decades instructing genius after genius. Although he didn't consider himself to be one among them, he knew enough to recognize how often intelligence arrived with a whole nest of other comorbidities.

Light said the right things. He listened to Roger's stories without interrupting. He was perfectly pleasant company in every way.

Roger was incredibly wary of him. He had to wonder how L came to trust such an eerily composed man, but as usual, he could not find a flaw in the deceased detective's logic. L's choice had outlived Roger's two contenders. He knew who would best live up to his own name.

"With the number of people I've had to bury—many of whom were students, I find that rather difficult. You can't cherish the time you have left when there isn't anyone left to cherish it with. A man shouldn't have to outlive his children."

"Is that who they are to you? Your children."

Roger didn't say anything. Instead, his eyes involuntarily flickered down to his address book. He kept the record in print only, full of fake names, instead of storing them electronically. The danger of prying eyes was always present in the vastness that was cyberspace. Many of the names in the book were crossed out, deceased or unknowns. Wammy House graduates. On the page of recent graduates, most were still accounted for, most notably Matt Rogers. Rogers, commonly used by the Normans and meaning "son of Roger."

"No," Roger denied. "They all hate me thankfully. I've no time for that sentimental rubbish."

Light smiled. "I can tell you care a lot about them. That reminds me. I wanted to talk with you about that. Your students. Weren't they meant to succeed L?"

"No," Roger said, trying to be careful with his words. "The Orphanage was established to help students hone interdisciplinary talents. Some have gone on to become artists or chefs—"

Or serial killers. Or thieves. Or crime lords.

"—but not all of them were intended to succeed him. Among them, a few were selected with the potential to become the next L, but none were ever officially chosen by him. Most of the candidates are dead now."

Light's eyes widened a fraction. Natural. Predictable. Ordinary. "All of them?"

"Most. There were five." A, Beyond, Mello, Near, and Matt.

"Really? I thought there would be more…" Light muttered, taking a small drink of his tea. "I guess I can understand why. It's hard to live up to a legend, and I don't think I'm doing a great job of it myself. That's what I came here to tell you. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly honored L trusted me, but I don't think it's my place to continue his work."

"He named you as his successor. That should give you more confidence in your place."

"Yeah, but it's become too obvious for me to be him now." Light pointed out, putting his teacup down on the desk. "L is supposed to be an anonymous entity. I helped the Japanese police and the FBI defeat Kira, so I've earned myself a bit of a reputation. I'm quite famous now."

"So I've seen." Roger hadn't missed the gawking horde of children scrambling to get a glimpse of the man as he stepped out of his car. He would bet money he would find a few with their ear to his door if he pulled it open now.

"Say a copycat Kira makes an appearance or L is needed for a different, dangerous major case," Light continued. "If I keep acting under his name, it wouldn't take a genius to put two-and-two together."

Roger saw his point. "You're right. All they would have to do is search the details of L's last major case, identify those responsible for catching him, and the information will lead straight to you."

"Exactly. It's an honor to be chosen by L, and I hate to go against his dying wishes, but it would be stupid to keep the act up at this point. Someone else has to take up the mantle. Maybe I could help out from time to time, but it wouldn't be responsible to continue. I think L would have understood."

"The problem is that there is nobody else except for you," Roger stated. "When I've selected a new list of potential candidates for you, I'll let you know, and you may step down. Until then, it's best that you keep solving criminal cases, as L intended, using his pseudonym."

"But you just said there were some living successors, didn't you?"

"Only one," Roger said. "You met him at the funeral, but he vehemently refused the position before I could even make an offer. I'm sure you can imagine why."

"Tell him it won't be a permanent arrangement. Instead of letting me keep the name, let him continue solving cases using the pseudonym until you can find an official replacement. Maybe he'll start enjoying the job and stay," Light suggested. "Some people need a little push to know whether or not they'll actually like something. I'm like that too sometimes."

"With all due respect, this isn't deciding whether he'll enjoy chocolate or vanilla, Mr. Yagami. Matthew has no interest in detective work. I never imagined he would be in the position where he would be forced to choose that for himself. He was in third place; he wasn't supposed to have this option. I never wanted this for him—for Near or Mello." Roger stared into his teacup, trying to keep the water from building in his eyes. "Either way, he won't listen to me. He's very stubborn."

"I'll talk with him. Maybe I'll have better luck." Light attempted to lighten the mood. "If he's anything like the man who raised him, he'll accept the job because he owes me a pretty big debt for my work on the Kira case. Don't you think so?"

Roger didn't laugh. The idea that Matt took after him in any way was funny but not in a way to pull a chuckle out of him. It was simply absurd.

"The brat is nothing like me. If he were, maybe he would step outside more often to breathe the fresh air instead of wasting his vision on video games. I keep telling him that he won't have eyes left when he gets to my age," He drawled, gruffly scowling to hide embarrassment.

No, Matt was sharper and more full of life than Roger ever was. That was fulfillment only caretakers knew— that most people couldn't ever comprehend unless they were parents, teachers, nannies, or mentors themselves. Roger once, too, had turned his nose up at the idea of taking care of children. All the protesting: " Why waste time looking after snotty, noisy, messy brats," and the " I could never"- ings at the idea of guiding the youth. It was women's work, no? But those who refused the call to plant seeds would never bear witness to the beginnings of a legacy, raising the future generation to be stronger, better, and wiser than the previous ones. Like watching trees slowly become a forest.

"In truth, I'm worried about him," Roger admitted, disarmed enough to confide in the Japanese man. "I thought he would take the news of his classmates' deaths poorly, but he barely reacted at all."

"Maybe he just doesn't want you to worry, so he's putting on a brave face," Light suggested. "I know that when my father died, I was a wreck on the inside, but I had to keep it together. For the sake of my family and the Kira Taskforce, I couldn't let how badly it affected me show. It was the hardest moment of my life, and I had to carry on. I still have to. None of my team members survived, but if I let myself look hurt, then Kira has made a victim out of me after all."

There it was. An explanation. Roger thought he was beginning to understand why Mr. Yagami remained so inscrutable. Masking. Was this the self-control of a man who wanted to hide his pain? He thought of Matt's nonchalance and uncaring shrugs. Were they the same as Yagami's courteous smiles and well-timed nods. Just a mask by another name.

"You may be correct, but I believe he's partially in denial. He didn't want to accept that Mello had died."

"Loss is hard. He'll work through his emotions at his own pace. If you're so worried, why don't you just check in on him more often?"

"I'm no longer obligated to perform routine inspections on him. He's nineteen. A legal adult."

Light hesitated. "It doesn't have to be a routine inspection out of obligation. You could just say hello. It could just be for tea like we're doing now. I could be ninety years old, and I'm sure my mother would still stop by to make sure my room is clean, and I'm still eating regular meals."

"I'm not his mother or his father. We are not family. He's only going to feel that I distrust him."

"So, just tell him the truth—that you miss him," Light said slowly, unsure of what the problem was. "He'll appreciate that. It's only natural for you to think of him and wonder how he's doing. It's the most normal thing in the world."

"It's not common for me to check on old students. Sometimes they choose to revisit the grounds themselves, but I give them their space. I don't wish to hover or intrude on their new lives." Many of them didn't want to be reminded they were orphans in the first place.

"Well, how about this: I'll visit him and do a wellness check on your behalf. We'll go to the park or a cafe. He'll get all the fresh air he needs." Light smiled, standing up. "I'll work on convincing him that being L is the highest honor in the world. And, who knows? Maybe he'll come to visit you, Mr. Ruvie."