Wammy’s had always been a crucible of competition, but things shifted the moment you arrived.

You weren’t trying to be a threat, not really. You were just… smart. In the way that made Near pause mid-puzzle and Mello curse under his breath when your name appeared above theirs on the rankings. In the way that made the other orphans whisper behind hands and laugh at how fast the two “prodigies” were being upstaged.

But most of all—you looked like him.

Of course, you didn’t know that. You didn’t know about the one who came before. The one L had despised—hunted—admired—loved in some sick, twisted way he refused to unpack. The one whose death had not brought him peace, only hollow silence.

Light Yagami. Kira. The only equal L had ever known. Executed swiftly. Quietly. Never mentioned again.

Except in the corners of L’s mind.

And now, there was you.

It started with longer glances. Then came the touches—strange and soft. A hand on your back guiding you into his office. Fingers brushing your cheek when you answered a deduction correctly. He started calling you “sweet one” and “my clever little mind,” like some kind of doting father—but there was always an edge of desperation beneath it, something possessive and strange.

You didn’t get why Near glared every time L pulled you from group lessons to “assist” him in private work.

You didn’t get why Mello blew up during lunch and accused you of “sleeping your way up” with a bitter bark of laughter.

You didn’t understand why L never let you go back to the others unless he was watching. Why you now had a private room near his quarters. Why he told you with those tired, sunken eyes: “I need you close. You keep my mind from breaking. You’re the only one I can trust.”

You didn’t know about the self-inflicted bruises he was hiding beneath the sleeves of his white shirt. Or that when you sleep, he sometimes watches—because he’s scared you’ll disappear, too. Like he did. Like Light had the day he was sentenced.