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When Ryuzaki first arrived at my orphanage he wasn’t Ryuzaki. He was L. I knew he was different. He was only 8 years old and I recognized instantly he was special. He didn’t speak much and only really enjoyed playing by himself at first. But then I realized how smart he was. He was an absolute genius with a mind that had no where to go. At first he was bullied a bit by other children for his….other differences. He only would wear the same outfit and sat rather strangely all curled up in a ball. He never wore shoes and barely spoke, but when he did speak, it was very long. I vocabulary sentences for someone his age. He also took everything literally and didn’t understand a lot of social cues most children had already learned by now. But what he didn’t know in that category, he replaced with his astonishing thinking capabilities. He thought very deeply about things and solved mind puzzles and situational issues immediately. He preferred to be by himself or ‘work’ alone, only really connecting with me. He didn’t like the children he told me early on. They were “loud”, and “whiny”, and as he said it, “ignorant to simple truths.” So early on, I had a little pal. I paid attention to little things L did, little things he absolutely wouldn’t tolerate, tried to learn the way his mind worked, and noted little quirks he had. He started wandering into my office where the children technically weren’t allowed to be, but I let him. He’d sit in a chair, little legs dangling off with his pants a size or two larger than him, so they hung over his bare feet. I gave him word puzzles and work sheets to entertain him, but soon that wasn’t enough.
“Mr. Wammy….I sincerely appreciate your efforts but I’m bored of these. I’ve solved them all.”
And sure enough, he solved an entire book of Word puzzles in under an hour. I didn’t even know that that was physically possible. So after so long, I decided to get him a computer. I gave him his own little corner in my office, built like a blanket for since I had noticed his sensory issues with my carpet. He had his computer wired up, the screen brightness as high as it would go, and before I knew it, that 8 year old boy was involved politically and criminally in systems an adult couldn’t typically get into. The first time I learned of L’s interest in true crime, I was writing at my desk and he padded over to me holding up printed copies of criminal files I didn’t even know he had access to. But that wasn’t it. He had an entire folder, thick as anything, fill the papers. In his high, little voice and insane vocabulary, he quietly explained to me an entire case that he had a “solved”, with remarkable precision and reasoning. I was blown away by the true ability of his mind. He had a “lead” already, and was politely asking with gigantic black orbs of unblinking eyes if I would help him contact the detectives working on the case and take it to court. I tried to explain to him, he was 8 years old and they wouldn’t let him near the detectives no matter if he knew he could help or not, but his 4 foot tall self was convinced. So now we had it. From now started what we became. But for now we were just little buddies, and he was my favorite there. From then on, he spent 90% of his time clinging to my leg, being carried around, or in my office, rambling brightly about more cases he was solving from the confines of his room. I also learned other things about him, things that weren’t like the other children. He would only eat sweets, that was it. If I tried to feed him other food, he’d push it away and if someone tried to force him to eat it he’d just cry. It wasn’t throwing a tantrum though, he genuinely couldn’t. So I tried my own method. He trusted me, no one else, so I started of simple with Mac and cheese, every kids favorite. A small bowl, sitting in my lap, and a little pink spoon he tried it, but even that didn’t work. He would tear up and curl in a ball. So eventually I gave up and just let him indulge in his sweets. There wasn’t a weight concern, somehow he was still smaller than almost all the other children, but I suppose he turned out ok! Also he had severe sensory issues. I already knew the shoes and clothing issues, but I didn’t make him change anything about that, there was no reason to. He never left the building anyways, so I would just wash the same clothing he would wear, and he would sit under a blanket waiting until they were ready the entire time. But I soon realized he was very slow on everything else. His brain was immaculate, but typical behaviors and skills children would know by now, he has no clue. He couldn’t dress himself, not even pull a shirt over his head. He would just stand there confused with those gigantic bug eyes, holding the fabric and silently waiting until someone would do it for him. I thought he was just lazy, but he literally didn’t know how. And my attempts to teach him all failed, so I just decided to do everything for him. Everything. Still at 8, L couldn’t bathe himself, dress himself, feed himself if it was more than a few thing on a plate, take himself many places or down stairs without needing to be carried, or even sleep on his own or correctly at all. Though I suppose correct is an opinion. He had to follow me, curl up under a blanket beside me, and have his laptop while at least I slept. He would only sleep every 52 hours exactly. Also, he never went outside or really…anywhere. He didn’t actually go outside for play time at all, but if I made him, he demanded to be in his stroller or he’d cry and refuse to go. Now this specific stroller stayed around until now. At 24 years old. These rules of his still stand.
Back to at 8, after his 9th birthday I decided to adopt him. He still wouldn’t leave the orphanage so he stayed there, but now I had more of a reason to have such a favorite and primarily take care of him. He still always only called me “Mr. Wammy.”
In fact that was constant. I didn’t find it annoying though.
“Mr. Wammy”, “Mr. Wammy.”
“Mr. Wammy?”, “Mr. Wammy…”
That’s what I heard all day, and it was adorable being his lisp since by now he’d lost his two front teeth. It was later than usual, but he was alright. He was a very affectionate child. Extremely actually. Painfully clingy to a somewhat concerning amount. He clung to me carried or not all day and loved hugs. He loved to sit in my lap and just watch my do work, or sit in a ball. He loved snuggles more than any other child I knew. Most at 9, mostly the boys, thought most affection was weird by now, and thought they were soooo grown up. But little L seemed to lack that completely, practically thriving off of physical touch, though not with ANYONE else. If anyone else even touched his shoulder he’d break down Sobbing and hiding. It got a point quickly where I was concerned by his separation anxiety. One day I went to the store and told the maid he was in his room on his computer, and I was going to get a quick refill of candy for him a few blocks away. She nodded and said, “I’ll tell him!”, with a soft smile. So I went, quickly bought some chocolate and lollipops, and an extra tart for a little treat for him. When I returned I was met with the same maid in distress, rushing to me once I walked through the door, saying she didn’t know what to do. Once she had told him I was away He had absolutely broke. The most I’d ever seen him do ever. He’d been sobbing and shaking, hyperventilating and screaming in literal terror the entire time, snot running down his little face as he clung to a pillow. Of course I ran to his room where he was, though I could hear him all the way from downstairs, and the moment he saw me he darted a beeline to me.
“Daddy!! Daddy!!”
That was the first time he called me that, literally trying to climb up me until i scooped him up first. He was shaking like a leaf, tears streaming and pupils tiny, which was far from normal. At this point I was very concerned. Very. But I sat down on the bed and rocked him back and forth until he calmed and eventually fell asleep. This was also the first NAP he’d taken that I knew of. And so I decided I had to figure this out. So, I did what I thought was logical, and took him to a pediatric neurologist. I had to lure him out the door to the stroller with a lollipop, but it eventually worked. This was his first car ride since he came to the orphanage. He actually was surprisingly calm. Though he usually was, I was almost positive he’d panic at this, he knew where he was going, but he didn’t. He simply stated, “This is a reasonable deduction you have made based off of my preferences and traits, I think this is quite logical of you Mr. Wammy.”
When we got there he was extremely intrigued by the cartoon giraffes on the waiting room wall, and stared at them wide eyed the entire time. I thought this was going great, not a tear or a scream or anything! Until the doctor came in, In a big white coat, a tall blonde woman he didn’t know. Instantly that was gone, and he was hiding under the table refusing to come out.
“Hi little one!”, the doctor squatted to look under the table.
“You must be L! That’s a very interesting name you have there! Is this your daddy?”
He Hunched himself in the corner of the space under the table to scoot farther away and nodded.
“That’s wonderful! Well we just have to get a few things done since you’re here, but to that you have to come out, ok?”
He wouldn’t budge, just shook his head.
“Hm….maybe you’ll have a better time Mr. Wammy.”
So I tried too. I got down on my knees which was rather difficult at my age. And I tried to get him to come out as well, but it didn’t work. We tried until eventually the doctor was able to lure him out with a lollipop, then I grabbed him so he couldn’t retreat back into his little cave. There was a lot of crying over simple things. She didn’t even really touch him, he was just crying. After a long talk, mostly me talking over his crying, she suggested an autism test, saying she could schedule testing as soon as she had free. So we went down that rabbit hole. For months. Until finally yes, he was diagnosed with autism. He absolutely could care less though. He thought it was a waste of time and money, but I thought it was worth while just to know. So then on our lives were the same. It wasn’t bad though. He grew up always near, never learning anything further that I had to do for him, but solving sometimes multiple cases a day. Soon as he grew up he was literally legally named the world’s greatest detective….and he was. His separation anxiety got better over time, but he never grew out of his clinginess. Still to this day as I’m more his butler than his father, he will randomly walk in the room and climb up for a hug. Now he’s got way more important fish to fry, working on the Kira case. But still to me, he will always be my little angel.