“As soon as one is born one starts drying” Luigi Pirandello
As young Mello has explained L was involved with the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, which were, according to Beyond, going to be an impossible case to solve. This was quite sneaky on his part since he was going against the rules of murder. No one ever tries to be caught and then kills themselves so that they can't be found out. My personal opinion is that B had a reasonably large ego. But moving on, it is my belief that L knew exactly what B was planning although I may be just biased. At any rate Beyond really shouldn't have underestimated L or Miss Naomi Misora for that matter. Recalling the Detective Wars, Eraldo Coil hid evidence from L just to have him win anyway. I really think Beyond could've learnt something from that. But I must be boring you, dear reader! So I shall digress as best I can, considering I knew L since he was a little child. You may now know most of L's most famous mysteries (thanks to many a Wammy House resident). And you may also know of the world-wide epidemic of the Kira Case. It is rare knowledge to know of L's early years as a slightly less sleep deprived looking, slightly neater hair little boy. We shall take a look at the case that shaped L into what he is today- such a clichéd line, but it's the best way to put it. Anyway, I do believe that I've rambled on enough. Let me begin the story of how L came to Wammy's House and how I became acquainted with him in the first place. Though, he probably won't know me by face since he never really saw me I think we're great friends.
And so, since this book should be all about the prodigy let my introductions about myself be quick and sharp. My name is Nayoko Risa and live neither as a friend to man or an enemy. My job is to be as out of the way as possible though I can't say I did such a good job back then. After all, one of you humans...never mind. That's all you need to know. I might mention more throughout this recount although I highly doubt it. Oh and I'm one of the few people who don't fear death. I have no reason to.
The bells stopped ringing when L was around seven and that's when he stopped sleeping. They'd provided comfort in those otherwise empty nights and when they died down he found that, without something to distract him, he simply stayed awake. Unlike most people L wasn't affected by his strange sleep pattern (even if there was none to speak of) and he concentrated even better without it. On one particular night when he was sitting up in bed with a book lying beside him L wondered what it would be like to kill someone. Since he was around eight years of age at that time he was experiencing his curiosity stage in life. He remembered how his mother used to tell him all these stories about why you should treat people the way you're like to be treated. L didn't fancy being killed. He began to think of the pros and cons and then proceeded to write them on a piece of paper. Once he'd finished L overviewed everything and started on the conclusion of this activity. For one, there was the jail and L didn't fancy himself behind bars and two you'd never get any sweets or ice cream. On the other hand, you'd be able to get rid of people you didn't like. L weighed the two like imaginary weights in his hands. “I want to become a detective,” L mumbled. For such a young boy he liked to make decisions as fast as possible. Perhaps, that is one reason why he is who he is today.
So the next morning at breakfast L stood up and wandered over to Watari with a determined light in his dark eyes. “I wanna become a detective!” L said.
“Not now,” Watari said. “You're far too young to be worrying about that now. Go have some breakfast.”
L folded his arms and frowned. “There's a forty percent chance that it will happen,” he replied. Then he returned to his table and drew his knees to his. This position helped him relax. Since he'd lost his parents and he didn't have anyone to hug him it almost felt like he was hugging himself in consolation of his loss. “Make that sixty.” He carefully lifted his spoon and began stuffing his face with pancakes.
His friend, R, nibbled gingerly at his toast. He, unlike L, had never amounted to his full potential. He always held back. Never gave things his all. “What did you ask Watari?” R asked quietly.
“Somefin,” L managed through his stuffed cheeks. “Ift's about wha' I wanna be when I grow up.”
“Oh.” R looked down at his plate.
“Want some pancake?” L pushed his plate toward R with a genuine smile on his face.
R, never having had a pancake before, reached toward the plate only to have it pulled back before he could even lay his fingers on it. His eyes widened in surprise and he stared at L. “What's wrong?”
“Do you like your pancakes cold? I like mine cold. There's a thirty percent chance that you do too,” L said.
“B-but that's less than fifty. Wouldn't it be...fifty?”
The expression on L's face made R shy a little. It resembled a look someone might give a person below them. Back then, L had never really grasped the way in which people are actually nice to eachother. “Of course it wouldn't be fifty! Fifty means there's half a chance either way. It's more likely you won't like pancakes cold. Therefore, the verdict is thirty.”
“You never asked me. How can you-?”
“How can I know? It's simple. The pancakes are mine. This gives me the right to determine whether or not you like them.”
R was thoroughly confused by that point. “I thought you were offering them to me.”
“Oh. I'm sorry you thought that. The fact of the matter is that I didn't. I was merely showing you my pancake,” L argued.
“Y-you even asked me: want some pancake?!” R said, gathering up all his courage to blurt this out.
“Did I? I can't remember?” L said. (I'm sorry if L is coming across as a bit selfish and egotistical. You must remember that he didn't grow up with his parents and never experienced that love. Such a pity that he never made friends except for that killer, Kira). L stood and shuffled out of the room.