A very different writing style than my other works - mostly because this story is not from Izaya's point of view. What a surprise, huh?

Oh, by the way? This is going to be one, long, epic story. Why? Because I'm suicidal.


ODYSSEY


"Shizuo…"

"Shizuo…"

"Shizuo, are you listening to me?" The short answer was No, and Shinra knew it. He lifted his glasses away from his face with one hand and pinched his nose with the other. Stubborn strands of dark hair whipped from side to side and his eyelids were wrinkled, proof that he had not been sleeping as regularly as he could have been. A thin wet line appeared on his forehead when he furrowed his eyebrows and sweat gathered into the folds of skin.

Looking significantly less haggard, the stranger sitting next to Shinra folded his arms and draped himself over Shizuo's sofa like he owned it. He and Shinra made quite a pair, two heads of black hair bobbing up and down in near-synchrony. Shizuo had never seen Shinra's companion before, but if he had, he certainly would've remembered him. There was something distinctively fish-like about the way the other man moved, as if his limbs were water. He had a handsome face, too, but the uncanny valley was in full effect; his beauty was more repulsive than attractive. He could have easily passed for a woman – and a rather pretty if shapeless one – but something about the way he held himself didn't align with that notion. Shizuo trusted his instincts, and his instincts were screaming 'Male!' at the top of their metaphysical lungs. They were also screaming 'Trouble!' and 'Kill him!' but that was standard fare for Shizuo's subconscious these days. If Shizuo had been given the chance to open the door for them and choose whether or not to let them in, he would've thrown them out. Unfortunately, he hadn't been given that chance, because Shinra had picked his lock instead of knocking like a normal person.

"Not my fault," Shizuo grunted half-defensively, opening and closing cabinets until he found the one that he was looking for.

"I know that you're not in a very good mood right now," the doctor said patiently, "but could you stop ignoring me for five minutes, at least? I need to talk to you about something important."

"More important than what I'm doing right now?" A sphinx looked up at Shizuo as he passed by the drop-off area. As soon as he was close enough, the creature started to wiggle a stump where its paw should've been. The pathetic appeal worked; Shizuo opened its cage and examined what was left of its right forelimb. Bits of bone dust covered the injury. Shizuo had seen this sort of thing so often that he could tell at a glance that power tools had been involved. This particular patient was a frequent flyer, too, which only made Shizuo more sour.

Shinra was still talking. "Well, it's about work, you see. I've noticed that you have a few gaps in your schedule, so I thought - "

"I don't need any help, not from you." Actually, he probably did, but Shinra's idea of advice usually veered on the wrong side of the law. Shizuo had enough trouble with the government as it was.

"That's debatable, but I'm not here to argue about that today." Shinra stared at his longtime friend despairingly before waving his hand in a useless gesture in front of the other black-haired man. "This is Izaya. He's your new client."

A client? Shizuo straightened reluctantly. He definitely hadn't gotten that impression from the stranger hogging seventy percent of his couch. "What kind of animal is he bringing in?" he asked, pointedly speaking to Shinra as if they were the only two people in the room.

"No, no, not that kind of client." Shinra sighed again for a minute or so, showing off an impressive lung capacity. "The kind of client that you treat."

Shizuo glared full force at both of them, already feeling the beginnings of a rage-induced headache taking root. His would-be client hadn't even had the time to earn Shizuo's hatred properly, but Shizuo had the feeling that it wouldn't take long. There was an unhinged gleam in Izaya's eyes that was eerily reminiscent of the mad scientist upstairs, and Shizuo hated that woman with a fervor. Besides, Shinra's tagalong had one major character flaw that automatically landed him on Shizuo's blacklist: his species.

"Shinra," Shizuo said sharply, patting the sphinx dry after soaking its stump of an arm in sterile saline, "I don't treat humans. You know that."

Shinra sighed a very long, tired sigh. "It's alright, Izaya," he offered reassuringly to his companion. "Shizuo-kun doesn't mean any disrespect."

There was dead silence in the wake of Shinra's declaration. Shizuo couldn't resist the urge to scoff derisively, even as his brain filed away the name Izaya as something to remember, something important.

Izaya cocked his head at Shizuo skeptically, eyes narrowed – and then he turned his face away and spat at the wall.

Shizuo stared at him. Then, rather nonchalantly, he put the sphinx into the nearest cage, walked up to the man on the couch, wrapped his hands around that skinny neck, and squeezed.

Shinra sighed deeply, but not in surprise.

Izaya also made a face like he was sighing, though there wasn't any air actually leaving his mouth. His eyes flashed from burgundy to sharp, derisive crimson, but he showed no signs of distress. And that was the thing - if he had fought back, no force in the world would have saved him from Shizuo's retaliation. But no matter how much the Shizuo's grip tightened around that smooth, pale neck, the other man didn't seem to care. It was the utter absence of reaction that finally snapped Shizuo out of his murderous haze - that and the blooming bruise spreading out over Izaya's skin. With a sharp, disbelieving intake of breath, Shizuo let go.

The ugly purple splotches vanished as soon as Shizuo released his hands. It was like the period of healing had been compressed into a few seconds, turning Izaya's bruises from purple to gray to green in a heartbeat before the colors faded away to nothingness.

"Fuck," Shizuo breathed. "He really isn't human."

"Have you been listening to me at all?" Shinra moaned. He hadn't raised a finger to stop them, though.

"No." Honesty was always the best policy.

The doctor dropped his face into his hands. "That's what I thought."

Shizuo eyed the creature in his apartment warily. Izaya didn't even return the favor, apparently preferring to play with a loose thread on the time-worn (and claw-worn) couch. Despite Shinra's continued attempts at talking or negotiating or whatever he was doing with his mouth now, Shizuo's attention was locked on Izaya's meaningless fidgeting.

It bothered him that he hadn't noticed Izaya's lack of humanity, but it wasn't obvious even in hindsight. He hadn't missed any telling signs - there weren't any to miss. Most magical creatures could put on airs of normalcy with hypnosis and illusion if they needed to blend in, but this went well beyond that. Izaya had human features. In another age and time, his red eyes would have been a deal-breaker, but the modern popularity of contacts worked to his advantage. He had an average build, slightly on the slender side, but not so much that people would notice. The small hands and feet of faerie types were conspicuously lacking. Even his fingernails were flat with blunt edges, instead of pointed. He wasn't especially beautiful, either; most of Shizuo's patients – the ones who looked vaguely humanoid, anyway – were absolutely breathtaking in a way that wasn't quite natural. Sometimes, that was their only redeeming characteristic. Izaya did not fit that mold. Izaya did not, in fact, fit any mold that Shizuo was familiar with.

"Shizuo, are you listening to me?" Shinra only managed to get his friend's attention after he stood up and blocked Izaya from view.

"What?" Shizuo blinked.

Shinra sucked in a deep breath and sighed for the umpteenth time. "Shizuo, I think you might have a mild case of ADD brought on by the excessive stress and paranoia of your life."

"...the fuck?"

"Never mind. I'm going to try to make this as simple as I can, okay? Okay." Shinra nodded to himself without waiting for Shizuo's reply. "Izaya-kun is a siren. He's also mute."

"He's a siren?" Shizuo sat down hard and stared at Izaya some more. That didn't explain anything. Granted, Shizuo had never been face to face with a siren before, but they were supposed to be alluring, weren't they?

"And mute sirens are no good. That's where you come in."

"He's a fucking siren?"

"Oh, good, you listened this time! Well, sort of anyways." Shizuo twitched slightly. Shinra wisely refrained from saying anything more.

"Why the hell are you bringing him to me?"

"Because," the underground doctor explained patiently, "sirens are still magical creatures, aren't they? I mean, they're type IIIs, so it's technically legal for me to treat him, but I'd rather not. I'm just a regular ol' human, Shizuo-kun."

"So you want me to do it?" Shizuo looked warily at the long-haired man – no, creature – in front of him and swore internally. He was fighting a losing battle. He always was when Shinra got involved.

"So I want you to do it," Shinra agreed amiably.

"Hell no. Might not be human but he's close enough. You know I can't deal with that shit anymore."

"You owe me," Shinra wheedled childishly, "because of what happened last year, remember? With the guy who thought his daughter was a mermaid?"

An angry flush rose up Shizuo's neck. "Damn it, you said not to worry about that!"

"Well, there was a change of plans. Sorry!"

Shizuo snarled.

His friend read the mood of the conversation and backed off slightly. "Anyways, all you have to do is figure out what's wrong with him and give him back when you're done, alright?"

He sucked in an angry breath, but finally nodded. "Fine." The sooner he dealt with this, the better. If it had been anyone else, anyone but Shinra, he would have refused off the bat. Damn Shinra and god-fucking-damn all the favors Shizuo owed him. Shizuo was far from stupid, but he very noticeably lacked the finesse that was needed to run illegal business behind a perfectly legitimate storefront. He'd end up on the run or in a jail cell if he so much as dipped his toe into the murky underground world where Shinra preferred to mill his patients. Shinra could handle it - seemed to enjoy it, even. Shizuo couldn't, so he made sure to keep his clinic clean, clean, clean, and sometimes he called on Shinra to help him keep it that way.

Unfortunately for Shizuo, his less scrupulous friends (Shinra included) had absolutely no qualms about dragging him into their messes. This was obviously one of them.

Shinra smiled brilliantly. "Great! So I'll just leave him here for you, okay?"

"Wait." In his building rage, the blond man unwittingly broke the lock on the sphinx's cage. It poked its one remaining front paw through the bars curiously, drawing back in surprise when the door pushed open. Shizuo didn't notice. "You're going to leave him here?"

"Isn't that obvious? You can't fix him over the telephone." Shinra dug through his briefcase before pulling out a slim folder. "Here's his file, by the way. Let me know if you need anything else, yeah? We don't want a repeat of last time."

Shizuo stared – first at Shinra, then at the black-haired siren. The latter looked perfectly unconcerned about what was going on around him.

Images of heavy metal objects began to dance around in Shizuo's head.

Almost as if he could read the blond man's mind, Shinra stood up and made to leave as quickly and unobtrusively as possible, leaving Izaya to bear the brunt of Shizuo's temper. The door slammed an impressively short time later.

Shizuo marched straight up to the couch and stared Izaya down. Every muscle in his body was poised and tense, like a lion on the prowl. "You. Shinra called you Izaya, right."

It wasn't a question. The siren glanced at him through the long bangs and nodded disinterestedly.

Shizuo pointed to one of the cages. "You'll be staying in here. Go. Now."

This time, Izaya turned to him with a cold, aristocratic smile and shook his head slowly. Shizuo promptly grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and started dragging him towards the pen. Izaya hissed out loud and caught the carpet with his hands, holding on tightly. The sudden pressure on the shirt jerked it out of Shizuo's hands.

They both ignored the sound of scratching in the distance.

Shizuo cursed and made a move to grab Izaya again. The slender man jumped out of the way and swung himself over the row of plastic boxes, jarring the animals underneath. A faint chorus of protesting cries followed his movements. Izaya raced all the way to the end of the row, stopping short at the edge. The cages underneath him teetered back and forth precariously, but his eyes were completely fixed on Shizuo.

The blond man pulled a chair over his shoulder without breaking eye contact. Then he swung it overhead, hitting the spot where Izaya had been resting. The impact sent shockwaves through the walls and floor. Tiny cracks formed on the white plaster, prompting the siren to run away as quickly as his legs could carry him.

Thoroughly shaken by the miniature earthquake, the sphinx finally fell out of its cage and onto the floor, clumsily spreading out like a glob of gel. A wailing glob of gel. Shizuo was so drunk with rage that it took several minutes to finally notice the injured animal's plight. He scooped it up with practiced skill, allowing Izaya the time to slip away to other parts of the building.

"You fucking bastard!"


Yagiri was laughing. "And then?"

"Shut up," he hissed. "You want someone to blame, go blame Shinra."

The woman touched her smiling strawberry pink lips thoughtfully before shaking her head. "Now, now, if anyone's to blame, why not your siren? Although, for a pet siren, he's practically wild. I bet his last owner was one of those re-naturalists."

"Wonderful," Shizuo growled. "Now where is he?"

"In my bathtub," she replied.

"Why the hell is he in your bathtub?" He tried not to breath in the heavy scent of antiseptics that saturated her apartment.

"Sirens like water, don't they?"

"What's he doing in there?"

Yagiri just shrugged. "He locked the door. How do you expect me to know?"

"You have security cameras," Shizuo reminded her impatiently.

She sighed before moving to let him in. "This is why I hate dealing with people like you. You should learn some manners before you talk to a lady."

Shizuo highly doubted that Yagiri Namie could be considered a lady. She walked briskly, half-dressed, into a spacious living room blanketed with white. The apartment resembled a hospital – no, a morgue – in both appearance and ambiance. Shizuo was never letting the siren out of his sight again, if only to avoid having to come to this place again.

Inspecting her nails like a preening teenager, Yagiri broke the silence. "I don't think I've ever seen you so upset about having to do your job. How did a siren of all things make you this way?"

"I just don't like him."

"Interesting," she said. "You like animals. And Izaya is, for all intents and purposes, an animal."

"Maybe, but he's not enough of one." Shizuo struggled to organize his thoughts into something resembling reason. Yagiri liked dissecting arguments just as much as she liked dissecting bodies, and her tongue could be as sharp as any scalpel. He wasn't afraid of her, exactly, but he was wary of her, and sometimes there wasn't as much of a distinction between the two as he'd like.

Yagiri gave him a skeptical look, clearly waiting for a better explanation.

Shizuo took a deep breath, wondering how he could explain a thought - or really, an understanding of the world - that came so naturally to him. "You know why I became a vet? Because animals are usually so much fucking easier to handle than humans. They're actually grateful for the help, for one. They won't backstab you, for another. And they're not - they're not fucking self-deluded. But humans...they're all fucked up, one way or another, and usually it's their own damn fault." He shook his head. "I became a vet so I didn't have to deal with that shit. But this...this stupid siren..."

"Are you really telling me that you decided on your career because of some rubbish about animal superiority?" Yagiri's smile was not unkind, but there was an irritating amount of pity in her eyes.

Shizuo gritted his teeth, not wanting to talk about the mess his life had been before he'd become a vet, and especially not wanting to talk about it with this particular woman. "Look, I just want to fetch my patient, and the sooner I can do that, the better."

Yagiri gave him a look so sharp he could feel it gouging through his chest.

He cracked his knuckles. It was a restless, subconscious gesture more than anything, but it succeeded where talking had failed, if Yagiri's quiet hissing breath was anything to go by.

"Fine." She took out a remote and aimed it at the hallway wall. A projector dropped down from the ceiling, showing at least sixteen different perspectives of the apartment. "You owe me for this."

Shizuo ignored her in favor of searching for long black hair and red eyes. "Where?"

"Over here," Yagiri informed him, pointing to a hyper saturated screen in the very corner.

Izaya was just barely visible in the corner, lying at the bottom of a tub full of water. The only spot of color came from his clothes. After a few minutes of watching, there was still no change in the picture, not even the tiniest ripple to show that the room's occupant was alive. Yagiri looked completely unconcerned about the fact that her guest could be drowning. Shizuo felt the same way, but his sense of obligation, to Shinra if not to Izaya himself, won out. "What the hell is he doing?"

"Taking a bath," she replied patiently.

"Face down?"

"That seems to be his preference, yes."

Shizuo's mood darkened from minorly pissed off to majorly pissed off. Personal feelings aside, the siren's wellbeing was still his responsibility. It wasn't Yagiri's place to shuffle him off the mortal coil. That was Shizuo's job. As soon as he figured out what was wrong with Izaya's voice, anyways.

"If you're so worried, the bathroom is at the end of that hallway to your left. Do try not to break anything."

The blonde man shot her a positively poisonous look. Then he turned to the aforementioned hallway and ran.

Yagiri's apartment consisted of a long, thin corridor with smaller rooms to either side. It had obviously been built with her slender frame in mind. Shizuo, on the other hand, had to turn his body sideways to get through. He passed the unpleasant journey with his nose right against the wall. It smelled like embalming fluid.

By the time he reached the door, his temper was rapidly descending from bad to worse. "IZAYA!" he barked, pounding on the door. "Get out of there!"

A loud, startled splashing sound replied.

Shizuo figured that he had given Izaya enough time to get a towel, so he twisted the knob and threw the door back. A slush of clear water poured over the threshold. The siren was sitting upright in the middle of the bathtub, wet clothes literally plastered to his skin. A tiny hint of red colored the water, probably from the reflection of his shirt. Tiny air pockets in his clothing bubbled up and popped when he splashed his hands down in a gesture of displeasure.

The blond man paused in the doorway for the fraction of a second.

On the surface, Izaya looked the same as always. Long black hair fanned out over the surface of the water. The black and mahogany clothes hung on his body, dripping water everywhere. His eyes were red and full of contempt. Yes, he looked the same, but there was something different about him. Shizuo struggled to pinpoint exactly what it was.

Eventually, he gave up. Maybe he would think about it again after a cigarette. Shizuo grabbed Izaya by the shoulder and lifted him up effortlessly. Then he unceremoniously dropped the shorter man onto the ground. Izaya gave him the most unaffected look he had ever seen on anyone, supernatural or not, before turning away to press the wrinkles out of his soaked shirt. Shizuo eyed him cautiously, trying to look without looking. It was more difficult than it should have been. Izaya's shirt slid up, flipping over at the edge and revealing long stretches of slick skin. Watching the show made Shizuo feel sick and dirty.

Logically, it wasn't his fault. Izaya looked so human, so human, and that was why Shizuo was sorely tempted to treat him like one, too. It was unnerving. Without his voice, Izaya was barely even a siren. He was perfectly situated on the borderline of Shizuo's comfort zone - much to the animal handler's chagrin.

Of course, that's when he finally figured out why the whole situation was so unnerving.

Izaya's androgyny disappeared when his hair was wet and sticking to skin. That is – well – his gender was actually obvious.

"You are a guy." Awkward shock turned to awkward amazement. Awkward amazement turned to awkward suspicion. "Why do you wear your hair like that?"

Izaya didn't reply. Shizuo quickly remembered that he couldn't. Upset by the momentary lapse of his sanity, the blonde grabbed him by the arm and pulled them both out of the water-logged room. The siren struggled to keep up with Shizuo's longer stride, eventually digging his heels in to protest. Water dripped from every wet corner of his clothing.

Shizuo just kept dragging his unwanted patient along, making the very confused siren stumble straight into him.

"The hell are you doing?" he barked at Izaya, ticking like a bomb. The siren gave him an expressionless stare and eyed the hand on his arm pointedly. Shizuo snorted. "Idiot! If I let go, you're just going to run again!"

Izaya seemed to visibly deflate.

"Shut up," the taller man muttered – rather uselessly, at that. His grip loosened, but only because of the impossibly narrow hallway. Water seeped up from the bathroom door into the corridor, but since Yagiri wasn't there to see, Shizuo didn't bother to deal with it. Honestly, it was her fault for entertaining a siren in her own home…

Izaya didn't seem to have any problems with navigating the hallway, unlike his companion. After hiding in various tight spaces for the last two days, he was probably used to the imminent claustrophobia. The same couldn't be said for Shizuo, who preferred to have enough room to walk without having to wedge his elbows into the tiny nooks and corners. The siren swung the long strands of hair out of his face and started tugging on the blonde man's sleeve. The feathery black tips just barely dusted Shizuo's hands.

Shizuo turned to glare at him and ran into a pillar.

Izaya laughed. Not a single sound came out of his mouth.


"Breath deeper, damn it!"

Izaya wrinkled his nose but complied reluctantly.

When Shizuo moved closer to Izaya's neck with his stethoscope, though, Izaya didn't comply at all. He twisted out of range and gazed coldly at the offending hand.

"Stop squirming," the blond ordered half-heartedly, knowing that he was going to be ignored. "Your throat looks fine. Your lungs sound fine, too. What the hell is wrong with you?"

No reply, not that it was possible to get one out of the siren at this point. Izaya crossed his arms like a petulant child and looked at Shizuo with mixed contempt and discouragement. The animal handler grunted, completely unaffected. It was troublesome trying to diagnose a magical creature without using the right medical equipment, but getting ahold of the latest and greatest was Shinra's specialty, and the underground doctor had a talent for making things worse, not better. Shizuo would rather take his chances with what he had.

He pulled out a bottle of alcohol and applied it liberally over Izaya's arm. The not-quite-human man shivered slightly, looking very uncomfortable with either the touch, the chemical, or both.

Shizuo kept one eye on him to make sure that he wouldn't run.

Izaya smiled at him disarmingly, as if to persuade his caretaker that he was perfectly harmless and obedient. Shizuo was not fooled. Not in the least. On the other hand, as long as the guy wasn't running around…he didn't really have anything to complain about.

There were piles and piles of medicine in the back cabinets, arranged in a marginally chaotic way. It only took a minute to find what he was looking for. Shizuo drew translucent fluid into a needle, trying to take a rough guess of how much tranquilizer he would need for someone like Izaya. He was bound to be off by a milligram or so – but this kind of medication wouldn't kill anyone. Probably. On the other hand, water dwellers were known for being sensitive to chemicals...Just to be on the safe side, Shizuo decided to check with Shinra on the phone. Not because he was actually concerned. Oh, no, far from it. It would be convenient to know, that was all.

Shinra took a distressingly long time to answer. The ringing sound finally faded into a soft "Hello?"

"What kind of tranquilizer am I supposed to use on him?" Shizuo didn't bother with greetings. This wasn't a social call.

The other doctor was completely silent for a few seconds. He eventually choked out, "Tranquilizer?"

"Yeah." Shizuo fidgeted impatiently, wondering how long the phone would last in his grip. He decided to put it on speaker. Of course, that wouldn't help if he uprooted the entire desk, but hopefully Shinra wouldn't be stupid enough to get him that pissed off.

"Shizuo, are you sure that you need to have him tranquilized?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Wouldn't tying him up work just as well?" The doctor made a high-pitched pleading sound. "He can be a little annoying, but don't you think tranquilizing him is overreacting?"

"I need a tissue sample. Like hell I'm doing that without tranqs."

"Oh!" Shinra sounded relieved. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, is that all? Give me a fucking answer!"

"A small dose of Thiopental should do the trick," he chirped. "Four milligrams at the most. Sirens are pretty delicate creatures."

Shizuo made a very skeptical sound with the back of his throat. "Right."

"Now, now. Don't be like that."

Shizuo made an even more skeptical sound. "Right."

"It's true. Izaya-kun likes you!"

"He tried to kill me. Twice."

A pause. "That's just the way he shows his love."

Shizuo hung up. Actually, he smashed his hand onto the phone by accident and ended up with tiny plastic pieces everywhere. "Fuck!"

Izaya didn't even look up from his thorough investigation of the cotton swabs.

Shizuo swore again, just as violently as before. He was still muttering obscenities twenty minutes later, with his fingers tightly wrapped around the needle plunger. Since his patient's attention was fixed on some distant point on the counter, Shizuo found little resistance when he grabbed the siren's arm. Compared to a human, Izaya's skin was nearly white, exposing a fragile network of veins and arteries to the naked eye. Shizuo stared at the limb in his hand disbelievingly, just waiting for an explosion that didn't come.

Five minutes passed.

He awkwardly turned Izaya's forearm over, feeling more than a little dumbfounded by the non-reaction. This was Izaya – frenetic, jumpy Izaya. What the hell happened? And why the hell was he waiting for an answer to that question? This was the chance of a lifetime. Quickly, he flipped the needle into an upright position over one of the thin purple lines on Izaya's painfully pale skin. The siren's arm felt almost metallic to touch. It was smooth, unnaturally so, and barely as warm as room temperature. Just like a doll. Or a corpse.

In hindsight, Shizuo should have expected what happened next. As soon as the cold metal tip pushed into his pulsing vein, Izaya leapt back three feet, crashing straight into the wall. The dry, white surface exploded inward, throwing up a large cloud of dust. It swamped the entire room, barely giving Shizuo enough time to throw his arm over his eyes. Disoriented but undaunted, Izaya struggled to his feet and ran.

"Shit!" The blond man threw the needle aside and chased after the wayward siren, not even bothering to dodge the heavy furniture that had been upset by Izaya's journey.

How could such a skinny worm run so fast? There was a good five feet gap between Izaya and his pursuer, enough to propel him all over the apartment at lightning speed without ever letting Shizuo close enough to touch. The blonde man was in a race that he was quickly losing.

Thoroughly pissed off, he took hold of one of the doors and wrenched it out.

"Get over here!" His voice echoed through the entire building.

Izaya turned around for the briefest of moments, his eyes bulging slightly. He looked like most of Shizuo's previous victims, completely and totally unprepared to face Shizuo's sheer strength. Unfortunately, he was not like Shizuo's previous victims. He fought back.

Tooth and nail.

Literally.

For every punch that actually landed on Izaya's body, Shizuo received at least three or four scratches. They appeared everywhere, even behind his ears – courtesy of a few well-placed blows to the back of his head. Pitted against an opponent whose strength far overwhelmed his own, Izaya took full advantage of his greater speed. The siren's feet just barely dragged on the floor, spinning with his fingertips extended. One hand hit Shizuo's neck and dug in like a shovel. If the nails had been sharper, there would have been a chunk missing from the blonde man's jugular.

Thankfully or unthankfully, Izaya's hands were long, lean, and normal. It didn't even bruise. Shizuo slammed his fist straight into the wall, missing his target by mere centimeters. In a blur of color, Izaya fled to the top of the bookcase. He glared at Shizuo from the corner of his eye. Black pupils contracted until the enormous expanse of his red irises took over, giving him the look of a wild animal. The color was especially striking compared to his ashen skin.

There was a short pause as they stared at each other warily. Finally, Shizuo began to walk toward the bookcase as slowly as possible, clenching and unclenching his fists. Izaya looked at him and tilted his head. Strands of black hair dropped from behind his shoulder. The farther he leaned over, the more the wooden shelves creaked in protest.

Shizuo put his hand on the oak bookcase and ripped it away from the wall. Medical texts old and new clattered to the floor all at once. Izaya was gone again, scrambling around the pile and throwing random objects at Shizuo's head – books, for the most part, with a few added extras that had been lying around for decoration.

When a beautiful antique globe smashed against his head, Shizuo was almost thrown against the wall. He braced his knees, grimacing. Liquid dripped into his eye, making his vision blurry. When he looked up again, he saw Izaya standing on the pile of books with a rubber band in his hand.

Shizuo opened his mouth but couldn't make it past the first word. Something bright and translucent flew at his face and lodged itself in his throat. Izaya fled.

The blond man doubled over, turning almost purple with oxygen loss. He went through the motions of coughing, but the flow of air up his trachea couldn't push past the foreign object. His lungs alternated between sagging and tightening.

It wasn't coming out.

Fuck.

Shizuo grabbed the closest chair and slammed it deep into his gut. There was a brief pause followed by the unmistakable popping sound of two ribs cracking – but nothing happened to the tiny marble lodged in his throat. He released the chair and hauled himself over the cast-iron banister instead.

The small glass piece shot out of his mouth and shattered on the hardwood floor. Shizuo took a deep breath in and out, immeasurably relieved about his most recent brush with death.

Apparently, Izaya had a creative streak.

Shizuo wanted to throw him out the window and stomp on him a few times. Maybe more than a few. The tall blond man stretched his arms out, testing the damage to his ribcage, but the pain was bearable. A thorough medical examination could wait until morning when Shinra came over for his customary breakfast visit. For now, Shizuo was going to treat his injury with plenty of adrenaline.

"You slimy little brat!" he roared as loudly as he could without cracking his ribs even more.

Silence greeted him, unsurprisingly. Shizuo scanned the kitchen for any sign of black hair and white skin, even going so far as to check behind the jars in the pantry. He made threats of bodily harm – even though they wouldn't have any effect – and stormed through the few remaining hiding spots in the apartment with all the force of a tornado.

As expected, nothing.

For the first time since the arrival of his unwanted houseguest, Shizuo's nearly supernatural ability to sense annoying things failed him. Where could the bastard possibly be? Not the bathrooms, not the dining room, not the bedroom, not the closet, not even the storage room where the other overnight patients stayed.

Two places left: the kitchen and the laundry room.

Shizuo checked the stove first. Then the cupboards. Then the pantry. Then the refrigerator. Then behind the refrigerator. No siren. Emitting low growls like a train puffing smoke, he stormed into the laundry room and nearly tore the hinges off the washing machine. Still no siren.

He turned to the last possible place that Izaya could be hiding: the dryer. For the briefest of moments, he imagined turning it on. But no, he was not that sort of man, and he never had been, so he opened it instead.

There was a slender young man curled up inside, dark lashes drooping and pale lips pouty.

"Get the fuck out."

The siren shook his head, almost disapprovingly. Shizuo wondered how someone who was silent all the time could possibly make him this pissed off. It was a special talent, to be sure.

He ripped the dryer out and shook it. Lint flew everywhere, sprinkling down on them like a poor man's confetti.

With a half-muffled cry, the siren inside was tossed out into a boneless, possibly brainless heap on the tile floor. He was twisted into an awkward angle that forced his face into the ground, so Shizuo took hold of both ankles and started dragging him out. "What the hell were you thinking? That's the dryer, you fuckwit."

Izaya turned around with impossible dexterity and shot another marble at the taller man's neck.

"Fuck!" Shizuo whipped around, forgetting that he was holding the siren's legs. The young man on the floor yelped and slid around in a circle. When he finally stopped moving, his dark red eyes glared up at Shizuo accusingly.

They were face to face. Izaya opened his hand, revealing another marble. Flick!

"God damn it!"

Shizuo held a hand over his left eye, swinging unsteadily on his feet. The sudden pressure had knocked him back a few feet, but he was prepared to retaliate this time. He swung his fist back and -

"What's going on?"

Both Shizuo and Izaya swerved to stare at the sudden intruder.

Shinra grimaced under the combined power of their death glares. He took one step forward as if to join them, but never quite made it past the threshold. To make up for the lack of physical proximity, he spoke loudly and clearly across the room. "What on earth are you doing?"

Shizuo gave his old friend a moderately pissed off look. "This is all your fault."

Shinra ignored him. "Izaya-kun, are you trying to kill him again?"

The siren raised his head very slowly, somehow maintaining eye contact with two people at the same time. His face was completely blank.

The underground doctor sighed.

"Why the hell are you here?" Shizuo let go of Izaya's neck and made his way over to the door. He had a good height advantage over Shinra, but it wasn't very effective as a scare tactic. They knew each other too well.

"You won't win Izaya-kun over like that," Shinra informed him matter-of-factly. "You have to be nice."

"No, I don't."

Shinra looked mildly affronted.

Shizuo didn't really care.

After an awkward silence, the doctor just sighed and beckoned the blond man to come outside with him. They crossed the hallway, just out of Izaya's sight. Shizuo paused just long enough to lock the door, wary of what would happen if he let the siren run free. Shinra shook his head fondly as he went down the stairway at a brisk tempo.

Shizuo followed him like a dog chasing after its wayward owner. It was not a good feeling. "Where are you taking me?"

"To talk," Shinra replied brightly.

"I asked where."

"Anywhere, really. As long as it's out of Izaya-kun's earshot."

"Great." Shizuo rubbed his foreheard wearily. Spending so much time with such a…lively patient was beginning to take its toll on what little remained of his self-control. Just a few minutes away from the mess and chaos was already doing wonders.

And Shinra noticed. "How's Izaya-kun doing?"

"We're getting nowhere," the blond man growled. "I still haven't figured out what's wrong with him."

A nod. "Of course. How's his neck?"

"His neck?"

"His neck." Shinra made a few vigorous gestures with his hands. "You know."

"No, I don't. What's wrong with his neck?" Shizuo sped up slightly so that he was walking side by side with his friend.

An incredulous look crossed the underground doctor's face. "You don't know?" He actually stopped mid-step, whipping around and grasping the taller man by the shoulder with a peculiar sense of urgency. "Didn't you check him over?"

"He wouldn't stay still," Shizuo retorted, wondering why he sounded so defensive.

Shinra opened and closed his mouth several times without making a sound. Then he lifted his hands to his face and groaned. "Shizuo-kun, you're utterly hopeless."

"What?"

"Izaya-kun had several inches of skin cut away from the back of his neck," Shinra reported with a frown. "In the shape of gills."

"Gills?" Shizuo stared. "Why?"

The good doctor grimaced. "Well, apparently, sirens used to have gills before man got ahold of them and started breeding them for pretty looks. And it's believed in certain circles that if you give sirens their gills back, they'll also regain some of the magic they've lost over years of domestication. Of course, adding gills isn't quite as simple as cutting flaps in the skin, but it is the first step, I suppose - "

"That's fucking stupid," Shizuo hissed. "You can't just make magic like that!"

"It's not completely stupid. It's just one step beyond centaur surgeries, and we already know those work."

Shizuo stared at him. "Centaur surgeries?"

Shinra blinked. "Ah. I forget, sometimes, how much of a law-abiding citizen you are. Let me start from the beginning. A few decades ago, we – by which I mean medical practitioners of the less-than-legal variety – started seeing lots of paraplegic humans going under the knife to remove their lower extremities so that they could be replaced with limbs from horse donors. Well, I use the word donors very loosely, since horses can't exactly give consent, but you understand what I mean."

"That's not what a centaur is." Shizuo didn't know what was more disgusting, the idea that humans would willingly do that to themselves, or the idea that humans would do that to another animal's body.

"I'm getting to that part. But even for the human-horse surgeries, the post-op results aren't too bad, provided that the patients receive physical therapy, and lots of it."

Shizuo opened and closed his mouth wordlessly.

"You don't believe me."

"No. Why the hell would anyone do that to themselves?"

"Because it's tolerated by the law. Or, to be more precise, because there aren't any laws about it yet. It's becoming a rather popular option, actually. Look, if you had a choice between staying in a wheelchair for the rest of your life and becoming half-horse, which would you choose?"

"Idiot." Shizuo stood against the railway, back stiff. "I would've found another way."

"…Of course." Shinra sighed. "But where was I going with this - oh, yes. There was a case series that someone did two years ago to see if you could go one step further and use a centaur's lower body instead of a horse. It turns out that you can, and it also turns out that even other centaurs can't tell the difference between a human-centaur hybrid and an actual centaur. They're magical equivalents."

Shizuo stared at him.

Shinra shrugged. "The point is, magic works in mysterious ways, Shizuo-kun."

"...how did they get centaurs to experiment on?" Shizuo asked, rapidly losing interest in the clinical implications of a centaur-human hybrid in the wake of his growing suspicion that the centaur half wouldn't exactly be an enthusiastic participant.

Shinra didn't answer, not verbally. He just looked at Shizuo with soft, understanding eyes.

A cigarette worked its way into the blond man's mouth in a vain attempt at cleaning out the bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Human cruelty, it seemed, was endlessly surpassing his expectations. "How do you know about the gills?" he asked, much more grim now.

"There were pictures from his, ah, previous doctor." Shinra's eyes glazed over slightly. "Medically, very interesting. Morally, very vexing."

"Show them to me," Shizuo ordered him in a no-nonsense kind of voice.

"Maybe later." A shift in the shadows. "When you're a bit calmer and less likely to go on a roaring rampage of revenge."

Shizuo couldn't argue with that logic, no matter how badly he wanted to.

His friend lifted himself from the brick wall, clearly satisfied with the bombshell he had just dropped on Shizuo's head. "Let's get back," he said cheerfully. "I'm sure Izaya's probably looking for food."

"And for ways to kill me."

"Well," Shinra practically gave off sunbeams with his smile, "What else did you expect?"

Shizuo caught the doctor by the throat and dragged him the entire way back, completely forgetting to ask why his longtime colleague came over for a visit in the first place.


To be continued...