Psychedelic Dreams

Summary: That marked the beginning. And I would never skip how that came to be. After all, that's when I met myself, Orihara Izaya, who christened me with one sentence, "This feels like some psychedelic dream."


Thinking back, I get it but I don't. It completely changed my life but, at the same time, nothing has changed. It was pretty strange but, then again, completely ordinary.

It happened to me, to us, in this city of Ikebukuro.


The night sky was illuminated by a round, yellow moon who kissed every cloud passing by. Even without streetlights, the cement pavement glowed with the moon's generous beams. Most of the citizens felt safer walking the darker streets of Ikebukuro, but there were some who didn't want to be seen and the moon was just being unnecessarily obnoxious.

One such person walked unobserved, covered by long time friends. The alleyways greeted him with a protective shadow, the rodents scurried loudly to cover the sound of his footsteps, and the broken things (people, dolls, buildings, dreams) of this city fell silent as he passed. He smiled.

Tonight was a good night.

Orihara Izaya had just finished business for the day and all had ended well. Humans were so amusing. The way the light in their eyes died as they realized he, whom they trusted, had betrayed them. After all, the trustworthiness of an information broker's words cannot be measured by the amount paid.

This is why he loved them. Humans, that is.

There is nothing better than observing the ones he loved placed in situations of absolute misery and unavoidable pinches. Their desperate actions only spur him to love them more and more. To the point, he doesn't believe he could love them any more than he already does!

Oh, humans! How fascinating he finds their flaws and fragile dreams. Oh, humanity! How adorable he finds their pain and indecision. How he loves it all! All of it he loves! All of humanity!

A bubble of laughter rose from his chest. So in the dark alleyway of Ikebukuro, Orihara Izaya laughs. Hahaha, gleefully, hahahaha, madly, hahahahahahahaha, lovingly.

And the shadows watched in envy, waiting to swallow whole the love, the laughter and the man who loves humans.


The night was fading by the time he finally struggled to sleep. So when his morning alarm went off, it took all his might to untangle himself from the seductive sheets that whispered sly endearment. He would have gladly surrendered himself to the Temptress of Sleep and Rest, but the biting sound of his alarm tore at his self-conscious.

So with a decisive lunge, he swung himself out of bed and almost head first into his bathroom. Catching himself before his head cracked on the porcelain sink, he was now wide-awake. (Not exactly 'awake' awake but at least he was physically responsive.) And the first thing he did was growl at his mirror. A grumpy blonde man with hazel eyes growled back.

And that's how Heiwajima Shizuo woke on the chilly morning of January 28th.

His head pounding with the shrill rhythm of his alarm, his heart thumping from the sudden adrenaline of his lunge, and his mouth grimacing at the disastrous state of his being. In his thoughts, I need to kill something…preferably the flea was the clearest of all the snippets floating around his slowly but surely awakening mind.

The blonde went through the mechanical motions of dressing and morning toiletries without much thought of the day that lay ahead. Shizuo had been preoccupied with a dream the night before so he never thought of what the day could bring. And he might have wanted to. After all, he didn't have many normal acquaintances so the probability of their normalcy that day was zero to none.

In a nutshell, Shizuo forgot about his birthday but no one else in Ikebukuro did. Not even Orihara Izaya. And definitely not the shadows.


Ryuugamine Mikado is the most involved individual of this story. He's the only one, other than maybe the shadows, who knew what happened and why it happened. In two weeks, he spun the city of Ikebukuro in circles again and again, trying to equalize all the external and internal factors.

It is rather amusing that this event would have never picked up if it were not for the young Dollar's boss. Had anyone else begun with the same conditions, at the same time, and among the same people, these two weeks would not have happened. It was the boy's compassion and ruthlessness that pushed our story into climax. But if Mikado were to explain the situations revolving around him those two weeks, then there would be no story. It would be a factual report.

And with the supernatural elements embedded into the foundation of our tale, it would be a great shame to downplay it into a mere report. So in consideration for the art of story telling, Mikado will not be our main character. In fact the only time we'll hear from him is right now:

Ten minutes before Heiwajima Shizuo awoke on January 28th, in a small side street, our not-main character was dazzled by the shadows dancing across the buildings. They were so similar to that of the headless rider, he had thought.

Almost in a moment of stupor, Mikado reached out and touched the gliding wall shadows. There seemed to be nothing different in the touch of cold cement. Disappointed, he began to retract his hand. But his hand was stopped. By another's.

Reaching out from the shadow was an arm, a shoulder, a head, his head, a—was another Ryuugamine Mikado going to come out?—but the boy yanked his hand from the shadow's reach and sprinted from the street and didn't stop until he touched the gates of his school. Breathing heavily and watching his warm breath form wisps of smoke in the winter air, Mikado trembled.

He had never wanted his best friend's presence more than at that moment. He was scared, bewildered, and absolutely ecstatic. All he could do was wonder how Masaomi would respond to the situation. Would they have run out of the shadowed streets together? Or would the company have made him fearless and pulled out the shadowy person?

But soon, the thoughts of his absent best friend chased away the excitement of the supernatural. And that marked the beginning.

At least, for the young student, this had been the beginning. But for the rest of us, our tale didn't begin until Shizuo's birthday rage occurred. And I would never skip how that came to be.

After all, that's when I met myself. That's when I met Orihara Izaya. The man who is me, myself, and I.

And the man who christened me with one sentence, "This feels like some psychedelic dream."


GAKUEN TENGOKU entered the chat room.

GAKUEN TENGOKU

Am I the only one that came over?

GAKUEN TENGOKU

GAKUEN TENGOKU

I'm a little lonely. I wonder when all of you will get here.

GAKUEN TENGOKU

Because I can't kill them on my own.


A/N: I'm not sure where this came from. Originally it was supposed to be some twisted piece on Izaya and Shizuo's relationship (or lack thereof) vs Psyche and Tsugar's relationship, but it became some odd thing. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.

I have this idea but I'm not sure where it'll will run. We'll see. :)

~sodesne