Hey guys! What's up? Long time no fiction.

So I admit that I love Durarara. I haven't done much work outside Naruto and I decided it's about time I make that step out into a different anime world. And since I adore this series so much, this is what I'm starting out with plus a few other projects.

It's my first DRRR fanfiction and I'm trying my best to be accurate with the characters so critic me if you'd like or praise me. That'd be real nice!

Hope you enjoy.

(Also, something to keep in mind is that it will switch point of view a lot from Shizuo to Izaya. But you will always know who it is.)

"Shit..."

It seemed to be his most favorite word up until recently. Not that Heiwajima Shizuo had ever been accused of being a saint who would never let a foul word escape his lips once or twice. But swearing like a sailor seemed to be the only tactic he had left in order to blow off steam from pent up aggression. And if there was one thing that everyone knew in the infamous little district of Ikebukuro; it was that Heiwajima Shizuo was one aggressive son of a bitch. But he absolutely, one hundred percent, hated violence.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit..." The body guard in attire similar to that of a classy bartender chanted as if he were cursing the skies to fall upon him.

Normally, given the circumstances of just who he was and where he had come from, Shizuo didn't give a shit about anyone nor anything. But as the days rolled on and the sun made its pass after pass, day by day, in a seemingly never ending cycle... Shizuo found himself constricted within his own type of cycle. A very boring cycle that he had come to realize, was his life.

Who would have guessed it? Year after year that was handed to him like valuable money given to a child was spent on a case of nothing. Spent on days chasing after that nuisance, that pathetic excuse of a living, breathing being - no, that flea. That he, of all people, would be in a sense... missing Orihara Izaya.

"I'm planning on leaving this city for a while and going underground."

That was what Izaya had told him on the final day that his presence had reeked the city with his stench. Naturally, he wouldn't believe a single word that came out of that vile informant's mouth, but he was certain that for once his loathed had been telling the complete truth. How exactly did he know? The stench that polluted the air around him whenever Izaya was creeping around in Ikebukuro had completely evaporated into thin air. Not once had he managed to catch a whiff of the tangible smell that was Orihara. One would believe this would bring relief and satisfaction - maybe even a small amount of peace to one such as Shizuo's conscious. And at first, it did exactly that. But once life had become filled with dull fights of opponents whose body could snap in half with enough applied force from just his finger; life became almost... meaningless to him.

"Eh, Shizuo." Tanaka Tom, the underground debt collector of a dating website and Shizuo's high school friend mumbled.

"Yeah?" He replied, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigarette.

"Is there something on your mind?"

The two men had been casually walking side by side along the concrete walk next to the street of downtown Ikebukuro. Just around the corner would be Simon, a black and very large Russian handing out flyers for the unusual but surprisingly delicious Russian sushi restaurant he worked for. If he listened closely, he was almost sure he could already hear Simon's deep voice optimistically encouraging passerbys to stop by and try all sorts of foreign seafood.

"Why would there be something on my mind?" It came out more rough than Shizuo had intended, but at least now Tom would have no choice to tell him. Most likely out of intimidation, but he could have cared less.

"Well, for one..." Tom began, sounding only moderately nervous. By now he was used to Shizuo's sharp edges. Not once had he'd ever witnessed the pain his friend was capable of. "You've had more cigarettes left in your pack. Usually you would have crushed have of them with your hand in your fits of rage. Now the majority are used for actual smoking. Which, I mean, is great. You waste too much on cigarettes that are never actually used for their intended purpose."

"Tch," was at first his only response. He didn't know whether to laugh at Tom's intended humor or slam him into a wall for being a smartass. "Nothing's on my mind."

"I know you're lying~," came the annoying chorus. "I think I know what's wrong with you. Are you bored because Izaya-san's not around to pester you?"

Having Tom hit his thoughts right on the nail, Shizuo passed a glare at him. "Why would I ever want that scum walking around my city?"

"Maybe because you actually enjoy having him around." Tom concluded, stopping which made Shizuo stop as well.

The way the brunette gazed around them made Shizuo believe he was searching out his next debtor. But instead, he looked right at him with a hard expression. "Let's face it. There's not a single man strong enough, no matter the size of muscles, that could stand up to you like Izaya did. He was the only threat and therefore, your long life rival. Without him, you're bored. As I said."

"Shut up," was all the blonde replied with as he continued to walk with his boss following close beside.

"Or maybe, you're in love with him as everyone insists all the time."

Such a crude suggestion made both his eyebrow and the muscles in his arms twitch. Temper snapping as though someone had lit a firecracker, Shizuo clenched a hand into a sturdy fist that was solid as a rock. "Son of a bitch..."

"That girl that Kyohei hangs around with always talks about how the two of you are in some boys love romance, but I always thought it was just her imagination. But maybe, as it turns out, it's true after all... You're in love with Izaya." As Tom continued to poke at Shizuo, there was the sound of metal being strained as if being pulled from the very ground. When he calmly looked over, his eyes fell upon his own body guard lifting a street light above his head.

"Bastard..." Shizuo growled, sounding similar to a possible mutation of a demon and a lion. "I SAID SHUT UP!"

The pole of the light came down, singling out Tom like a fish in a pond. People ran, screaming out in fear of being a target of Heiwajima Shizuo's rage. Though their fear would seize to exist much longer when the very heavy, and very lethal choice of weapon came to a hault.

"Shizu, vhy must you vake customer of sushi run vay with vight? Vighting no good. Sushi good! Take vis card."

Out of nowhere, Simon had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. When in reality, he had been standing there the entire time and waiting for an incident to occur. Like a sandwich, both men held the pole between them with sheer power. One forced one way, the other in the opposing direction. The only difference being Simon held what must have been a simple toothpick to him in his hand while holding up a bright pink flyer practically to Shizuo's face.

"I don't want..." Shizuo cocked his head away from the paper in Simon's huge, black hand only to have it follow him. "Your damn sushi!"

"Ah, Simon." Tom said with a grateful smile, hands hidden within the depth of his pockets now that he was aware that his funeral wouldn't need to take place anytime soon. "Good to see you. I forgot that you have the strength of a grizzly bear. My mistake, perhaps the only one that puts up a fight with Shizuo now is you."

"Vight no good. Sushi good - very good! I give you vis card." Simon somewhat repeated his previous statement, handing the sushi flyer to Tom instead.

Taking the flyer in his hand, seeing as though his body guard who was in the midst of trying to kill him hadn't, Tom's smile widened. "Hm, you know. I think I may just try some of your sushi. I have yet to and I think the idea sounds wonderful. What about you, Shizuo? Want some lunch? I bet you're hungry after ripping that street light out of the ground." The collector half teased, leaning to the side of Simon's ginormous form to look around at his employee who was in the process of calming down.

"I don't..." He began again, only intending to again insist on what he had just only said a moment ago, but stopped mid-sentence. With short hesitation, Shizuo considered the offer of free lunch then tossed the pole off to the side like a feather. "Alright."

"Haha! You want sushi? Alvight! Let us eat sushi!" Simon gloated over his victory, guiding the two in and also ignoring the extreme litter they had caused on the side of the road.

The sushi restaurant was designed peculiarly, it wasn't exactly Shizuo's taste. But having been here a handful of times, he was fully aware of just how good the food was in comparison to the looks of the joint. However, mid-step he was sure he caught a whiff of it. The smell that was enough to cause every muscle in his body to still, tense, and raise the hairs on the back of his neck as if an all too familiar ghost was lingering around. Coming to an abrupt stop, Simon bumped into the back of him. Contrary wise to the former event, Simon almost stumbled which caused his attention to be drawn to the bartender of sorts.

"Vhy stop? You no want sushi?" He asked, worried.

Tom answered the question of Simon's paranoia and a brief conversation was being held as Shizuo's eyes narrowed through the indigo lenses of his shades. "That smell..." It was a smell that could only be described as a certain smell. A certain smell that could only have one outcome and therefore, one owner of such a smell. It was the smell. But past Simon who blocked the majority of his sight, Shizuo could not spot what his suspicion searched knowingly for. "It reeks."

As the doors closed to Russian Sushi, soft steps lead to the pole that had been carelessly tossed and abandoned at the side of the road. Stepping with an optimistic skip, the sole of one shoe stomped down directly on the crushed body of the contradicting cigarette.

"It seems you still haven't grown up..." Lifting the sole of his shoe, a young man picked the cigarette up and examined it as if it were a destroyed artifact from a ruin. "What a shame... Shizu-chan." A devious smile curled at the lips of the observing stranger before tossing the cancer stick behind his shoulder. With a cheerful hum, the man walked away; disappearing as fast as he had appeared.