The second part to "Sentience", in which L has his say about his own personal mission.
Any ownership of strawberries L may or may not have given me is purely coincidental.
Talent was, despite what common belief stated, a learned trait. It could have been ingrained in the pattern of DNA, the psyche revealing a mind sculpted from the genius attributes that were an anomaly under medical machines. That was the case with a steady percentage of the population, those with seemingly superhuman abilities of the mind.
However, what he believed completely went against that fact. Some people were born with brilliant minds, the ability to play multiple instruments, set world records in shows of athleticism, memorize languages and be the tantamount of their generation. But he preferred his theory, for it meant that the conduct would be forged by iron-fire, by a type of strength that would not cripple under the tasks that proved that the talent was said person's calling. If nothing was tested and tried, how could it be true?
Thereby, he was both of these things, the mysterious sleuth the world knew by a single letter. It was an arrogant claim to say that he was an amalgam of talent and the hardship of his work, but he wouldn't dictate otherwise had he been asked such a question. Since before he could remember, he had come up with strategy after strategy, plan Z and beyond whereas anyone else would have been struggling with another tactic. Psychology and the human mind were a fascination of his when he was considerably younger, along with the logic of science that he found solace in, come every mid-afternoon at a large table that was always well-stocked with his favorite confections. Books were his friends, as socializing was out of the question, for it was unneeded. Other people would have distracted him from his duty, as that was his most important purpose, if not the only purpose that he desired from his life.
Challenges came and he faced them with a wry grin, lips curving behind his microphone to an almost smile; this was when he felt most alive, when he was tried by adversity and hardship. It made everything he had worked so hard to achieve in his childhood the true reality that he thirsted for, his philosophy in mankind that much clearer. Behind seemingly impenetrable black eyes, eyes covered with the shadows of too many nights staring at computer monitors and files of evidence, he had an unshakable belief: that justice would prevail, and that he would help humanity in any way that he could.
He knew that statement was borne of pride, that he alone with his mind and level of sentient passions could help alter the state of the world. It was in no way playing god; it was in using the mixture of fact and his own conclusions that led to victory for the innocent and punishment for the wicked that eased the glut of sin that had taken refuge in the world beneath his bare feet.
Meaning, this "Kira" fiend, his greatest foe and adversary was to know his wrath and a sentence that would lay any childish concept of vigilante killing to rest, behind and beneath the greatest prison known to man. That was his duty: to restore order in a world of chaos, and help it in any way he could before he saw his last day.
After all, those with such talents never did live long enough to see their vision's aftermath; he would exist to see the dawn of his creation, and in the winking radiance of the fading sunlight, he would pass on from this world, with the heirs he selected to continue his legacy once he was gone.
It was nothing to mourn about; it was just his calling. Despite how he loved sugar, there was no need to coat it over the truth.