part v. vocation (you are what life makes of you)

L solved his first case when he was eleven years old. He hadn't seen what all the fuss had been about - true, he wasn't supposed to have been eavesdropping on that particular conversation, but how could they miss such an obvious conclusion? So he'd stated his mind, given his reasoning, and watched as their jaws dropped and realisation flashed in their eyes.

And he'd been rushed away then, and made to swear that he mustn't eversayanythingaboutit or 'Mr Wammy would be in a lot of trouble for bringing you along, you hear?'

But that had been the beginning of it all.

Several years later, and it suddenly seemed that he had a reputation. The United States, Spain, China - he went where his presence was requested, and Watari went with him.

It seemed that they had settled into the roles of partners; not too close, a little professional - but all the same, sometimes slightly strained. If there was one thing that L did a lot, it was think, but his mixed feelings for the man were not something he cared to dwell on.

Did he resent him? Not really. After all, Watari had been the one to take care of him all these years. But there was still that residual bitterness; that faintly remembered pain that was associated with the time that Watari had brought him to England. It was vague, and it was uncertain, but it was there.

So L ignored it, and accepted Watari's assistance knowing, at least, his good intentions. He couldn't deny that he was useful, either.

He was not as oblivious as people thought; did he just look as though he didn't notice, or as though he didn't care? L saw the way the people he met stared at him; whispered to each other as though he, someone so renowned for his observation and deduction skills, wouldn't realise.

And perhaps it was true, maybe they were right: he didn't really care. But as a fifteen year old boy, sitting hunched up in his chair at night, book in hand, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd have turned out differently under other circumstances. Could he have been like other people?

But in the end, logic won out, and of course - none of that mattered. He felt little empathy for most people, although he knew his social ineptitude contributed to that. He wasn't lonely - or at least, he didn't think so - but he had known little else, and he was hardly in the best position to become close to others, even if he'd wanted to.

L couldn't really say if he enjoyed what he did - but it certainly gave a feeling of satisfaction to complete a case, to be able to say he'd helped justice; helped that flawed legal system he'd noticed so long ago.

So it was all quite straight forward, really: he liked to win. Sometimes, though, it was just too easy, and he couldn't help but wonder why no-one else had solved that particular case yet. It was adequate, but sometimes it was dull.

And that was life.

Until, of course, he was called in for the Kira case, and met a boy named Yagami Light. L was twenty one at the time, and as the initial pieces of what was going on began to sink into place... he smiled.

Because this... this would not be dull at all.

-End