Colors That Don't Exist

Pilot

Not your life to stake.

...

December Fourth, 2003.

In this report is the account of the Kira case  from the perspective of the lead detective's assistant. I was hired for reasons unknown to me by a dear friend of mine 7 weeks before Kira began killing. If this report is to end suddenly, I have most likely been murdered. In which case, this report should fall into the hands of the children of Wammy's.
My name is Y/n L/n, born female and 23 upon hire. I had no next of kin at the time. I will be your guide through the Kira case. For context, my alias of the time being was A/n.
As long as I remain alive, I pray no one must inherit this document for you'd have the responsibility to finish this case.
To my dearest, Wammy. I know that if I'm to pass, this information will fall into your hands, but in the case we are in now there is a possibility that if I am to die, you will as well.
Rest well, my friend, I'll see you in hell.

...

The door creaks open behind him, a sign his young assistant is back with his request. Sure enough, Y/n's smooth voice breaks the silence.
"I've brought your cake, sir. Is there anything else you'd like before I retire for the day?"

L acknowledges the question without turning to face her with a raise of his hand, a small gesture she'd gotten used to and she places the dessert in his palm.
"No, I don't believe so... Actually, I believe the ICPO has faxed over their requests for the new case. Will you put the papers on my bed?"

A rhetorical question, of course. No matter how kindly he asked, which wasn't very much, she was required to do whatever he pleased within moral and inexpensive legal boundaries.

Striding over to the fax machine and picking up the documents, Y/n left the room and went to place the papers on the front of his bed. Noticing the mess of sheets, she sighed and and set the papers on the floor before leaning over and remaking the blanketed mattress. Once finished, she moved the papers on the bed and came back into the main room.

As she picked up and tied her shoes, she watched L work. From where she was standing, she could only see his slouched back, spine slightly protruding through the white material of his shirt. She had a sudden thought, that if she held him in her arms, she could count and trace each vertebrae. That if she were to hold him, Y/n would start from his long, dark locks and slowly work her way down his back, softly massaging his bones. Realizing her train of thought, she quickly spoke her goodbyes for the night and left the room without another word.

As Y/n's feet carried her to her own assigned hotel room, L thought of her too. Watari had told him he needed social practice and someone to take care of him. L argued that he had Watari for both of those things but Watari dismissed him, saying he wasn't always going to be around to help. He had reassured L that Y/n was a close friend of his and she was a wonderful, bright woman and L had reluctantly agreed to her paid presence.

In all honesty, he had expected an elderly woman around Watari's age. That was the first time his speculations about Y/n were wrong. Upon introduction, L had barely spoken, simply taking in her youthful features. In hindsight, it was an awkward meeting but nonetheless, Y/n treated him with grace and didn't mind his poor manners.

She was quite beautiful and quite kind, always offering to do more work. It felt nice, a beautiful woman as she taking care of him and assisting him on cases. She smelled of strawberries and new books and whenever she came close enough to hand him something, he caught a whiff of the comforting scent.