Hello dear readers, it's a Durarara! fic this time around! I've had this idea for a long time, and I finally pulled through and finished it. It is not a Shizuo/Masaomi pairing fic, it's a Masaomi-centric with brief interaction and discussion with Shizuo. Any "x" you see between paragraphs shows a skip forward in time. This fic takes place in the anime-verse before the show starts, when Masaomi is still in middle school and running around with the Yellow Scarves. Rated T for violence and language. Enjoy!

A Cautionary Tale

Masaomi's sneakers beat the ground in a heavy rhythm. He wasn't looking behind him, but he knew what was there: three members of the Yellow Scarves following him and—he hoped—protecting him. That evening, he'd specifically chosen a group of tough-looking guys out of the gang to join him when he went out on the streets of Ikebukuro that night. Had be been afraid of something? Never, though the feeling in his gut had hinted otherwise.

Another group of footsteps fell in with Masaomi's group, giving the Yellow Scarves the cue to speed up. The Blue Squares had already taken out one of their guys, and the last thing Masaomi wanted was more fighting.

An angry shout rang out behind him, and Masaomi had to force himself not to look at the long shadow from the store lights to see what was happening. He heard someone cry out, and then the silhouette of one of the Yellow Scarves fell to the ground to be descended upon by Blue Squares. The boy's footsteps slowed down the slightest amount, but when he saw the shadows of more Blue Squares picking up the chase again he speed right back up without missing a beat.

"Hey General," one of the Yellow Scarves caught up to him and rasped out, "W-we need to get back there! Those guys just—"

Masaomi shrugged him off and sprinted ahead, eyes mad. His insides twisted with guilt but he made no motion to stop and turn around to face the attackers. Right now he was just running. He slipped in a muddy puddle and stumbled around a corner leading into a narrow side street. A metro train zipped by and momentarily lit up the street; his group was short another guy. A sickening snap heard from the first street drove the point home, accentuated by a scream that made Masaomi's blood run cold.

The last guy, a burly high school student a few years older than Masaomi sporting the trademark yellow scarf around his upper left arm, dove into the side street and pressed himself against a shadowed section of wall. Masaomi ducked behind a trashcan next to him. He felt his heart pounding in his throat as he watched the warping shadows of the Blue Squares come closer and closer. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, but this wasn't the good kind he felt when he was running through the city in the daytime or when he stood high above his gang to call out orders; this was the kind of adrenaline rush that said get away or you're going to die.

The high schooler took a step out into the street, but Masaomi grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him back into the shadow of the wall. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

"I'lll hold 'em off, you get away in the meantime," he responded, trying once again to venture out into the open.

Masaomi yanked him back again. "No way are you decoy, you'd never live to see the light of day!" he said, keeping his voice low, "Just follow my lead."

The Blue Squares stepped onto the narrow street, and for the first time Masaomi got a good look at them. They all wore some blue clothing, mostly hats and t-shirts, and two of them carried wooden poles. One flicked his hand, catching a reflection on his switchblade. Masaomi slowly, ever so carefully, reached into his jacket pocket and took out his own switchblade. As he did this he came to the shocking realization that he had never used his blade before now.

The world started to spin before his eyes as he thought about the situation he was in: stuck in a gang fight, trapped in an obscure part of Ikebukuro, totally outnumbered and with little experience in self-defense.

Masaomi's companion clenched his teeth and hissed out, "General, got any ideas?"

Masaomi's brain was going into overdrive as his golden eyes flashed across the scene, taking in every detail and working out paths of escape. There was a fire escape ladder, they were near the opening into the street, they had weapons with them, they could get out of here. "Hey," he muttered under his breath, "Can you run?" The older boy nodded. "Fast?" He nodded again. Masaomi clenched his fingers around the switchblade and took a hollow breath. This was it, run for his life or lose it. He jumped out from behind the trashcan and allowed the streetlight to pool around him.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Masaomi thrust his switchblade out and swung it around madly. He felt the blade come in contact with something, heard a scream and curses. He started running again, still slashing blindly. He could see the vague outline of the street not too far away; he could get away if he could only make it there! He ducked a swing from one of the wooden poles and dashed past two of the Blue Squares, landing a fairly deep cut in the side of another. He slipped by another Square. The street was so close…!

A pained yell rang out behind Masaomi, and in that moment he knew that he was completely alone. The scene was rather quiet for a gang fight, probably as a result of the lack of guns, and he heard his companion's body hit the ground. He hoped with all his heart that his Scarves were only unconscious, that someone would see them and call for help, that they would all at least be alive by the end of this. Masaomi lashed out again with his switchblade. A blade sank deep into his leg. He yelled and struck with his own weapon in retaliation. The switchblade cut someone, but he knew his chances of escape were disappearing faster than he could keep up with.

A huge blow to his back sent Masaomi tumbling into a wall, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped for a breath, but was cut short when a Square landed another hit to his side with a wooden pole. The guy grinned and said, "Man, I thought you'd be a better fight, Kida!"

Masaomi glared up at the boys. One of the larger ones grabbed him by his hoodie's collar and lifted him up to stare right into his golden eyes. He felt a sharp pain and heard a sickening crack as the boy's fist made contact with his face. Another punch flew, and another, until the beatings dulled to rhythmic thuds only felt in the back of Masaomi's fading consciousness. He could taste iron and had the vague sense that blood was trickling down his face. The Squares threw him down on the ground again and he hit his head on the concrete.

"This kid's a pushover! How's he the leader of the Yellow Scarves?" one of them taunted, kicking him in the gut.

Another Square laughed and tapped his pole on the ground by Masaomi's head. "He's a joke, 's what he is! And he takes along those guys when he goes out on the town? He's lucky he got this far!"

"Kida can't be the leader of the Yellow Scarves—he's somewhere else! Come on, let's go find out where the real guy is."

One of the guys took out a can of something and shook it. He aimed and sprayed blue paint all over Masaomi and the other Scarves member, covering the scene with their signature and laughing all the way. A third boy squatted down and yanked the yellow scarf from around Masaomi's neck. "I'd like to know how a wuss like you got to be mixed up in the Yellow Scarves," he said, slicing the scarf to ribbons with his knife.

Masaomi's senses were going. The laughter of the Squares was growing more distant and dreamlike, and the smell of the paint was making him dizzy. The wound in his leg was throbbing. His eyes drooped shut just as a door opened into the street and a tall man dressed like a bartender stepped outside. "Hey! What the hell you think you're doing?" he shouted.

Masaomi didn't register what happened next, only horrible cries for help and more muddy water splashing in his face.

x

An electronic hum slowly teased Masaomi awake. It was a strange kind of waking, like he hadn't slept at all and yet was so tired that he could have been asleep for years. Everything ached; his face felt like a balloon, his leg was so sore he didn't even want to think about walking on it, and his head felt like someone had dropped a brick on it. His hand itched, but when he tried to scratch it he found an IV needle taped onto the back of his hand. Breathing hurt, and it was strange; a plastic oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth.

Masaomi tried to push himself up to sitting in the bed. He needed to move around. He felt so cramped, like he had just been frozen for weeks. The lights in his room were off, but the sunlight coming through the window gave the room a muted glow. The movement tugged at his IV, and he winced at the sting in his hand from the needle. He blinked and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He was so tired, just wanted to sleep. His heart was racing—probably because of the painkillers—but mentally he was exhausted. He wasn't even thinking of anything in particular, but foggy images of what had happened the previous night kept swimming around in his head. Masaomi yawned and shuffled back down into the thin blankets of his hospital bed; it was too much to be thinking about at the moment, he just wanted to sleep.

x

"…Masaomi?" a quiet voice asked as someone stepped into his room. Masaomi didn't answer, just pretended that he was still sleeping. "Is he awake?" the voice, a woman's, asked the other person who had entered with her.

Purposeful footsteps tapped across the room from the door to the bed. Masaomi felt his father's shadow over him, but didn't open his eyes. "He's still asleep," the gruff voice answered.

His mother's heels clicked across the floor to stand at the bedside with his father. "Oh my," she whispered, "He's a mess."

"I knew something was wrong," his father said, "He's been acting strangely lately. He was up to something, and now it's caught up to him."

"What was he even doing out there in downtown Ikebukuro at that time of night?" Masaomi's heart sank a little as his mother's voice cracked. She was crying—not sobbing, but he knew when she was upset. It was the worst. He continued to feign sleep as she said, "He's been so secretive lately! He's been keeping secrets from us, bleaching his hair like some gangster and getting those piercings. And now this! Our son is in real danger, Dear. He could have… he could have…"

"We've sent the police on a search for who did it, Masaomi's getting care, we're doing all we can. We'll talk to him when he wakes up," his father said, trying his best to cover up his worry, "there will be no more wandering about after dark, I can tell you that."

Shoes clacked to the door, and Masaomi felt the soft touch of his mother's lips on his cheek. "Please get well soon," she cooed, "Your father and I will be back tomorrow." With that they were gone, leaving Masaomi with a new wave of guilt to battle and the drowsiness from the morphine to sleep on.

x

The next two days came and went in a drowsy haze. The operations for Masaomi's broken nose and shattered shin went off without any problems, and he was taken off the horrid oxygen mask soon after. He was sitting up in bed and able to stay awake for more than a couple of hours—not that he stayed up for too long in the first place; Masaomi spent most of these days sleeping. Whenever his parents visited, he faked sleeping rather than talk to them about what happened. If they ever found out about the Yellow Scarves his life would be over. Thankfully his ruined scarf had been left at the scene, so luck was on his side.

There had been one day when they caught him awake, but he had hastily lied through their questions that yes, he had been out in Ikebukuro when he had been mugged by some thugs. He'd tried to run away and get help but they cornered him and beat him senseless. They bought it.

Masaomi fell back against the pillows and winced; he'd bruised a rib when those Squares threw him on the ground and hit him with that pole. It still ached when he took deep breaths. His mother had left for the day, and his father was working until late, so he had the rest of the day to himself. He was about to drift off to sleep when the door clicked and opened, and a tall blonde man let himself in.

Masaomi recognized him right away; it was Heiwajima Shizuo, the craziest and strongest guy in all of Ikebukuro. It dawned on the boy that a man dressed like a bartender had saved him from the Blue Squares. It couldn't have been this guy, he was too busy throwing vending machines and street signs at people.

"Hey, kid," Shizuo said, moody as ever, "You getting out anytime soon?"

Masaomi gulped. What did this guy want with him? "Uh, I guess? Someone as famous as Heiwajima Shizuo doesn't need to worry about a little thing like this, though," he said, flashing him a winning smile, "I'll be out in a jiffy! I've got tons of girls out there waiting for my return!"

Shizuo walked over to the window and leaned against it, crossing his arms. The muted sunlight caught in his bleached blonde hair, giving it a sickly highlight. "Yeah? You gonna get outta this hospital and turn into a normal kid, just like that?"

"Ah—" Masaomi grappled with what to say next. He scratched his cheek absentmindedly, muttering, "Yup, just like that."

"Bullshit," Shizuo snapped right back, fixing the boy with a piercing stare, "You're just gonna go right back to those Scarves, aren't ya?"

Masaomi bunched up his fists, grabbing up fistfuls of blanket as he avoided eye contact with him. "So what if I do? It's got nothing to do with you, last I checked."

"Hell if it doesn't have anything to do with me," Shizuo hissed through clenched teeth, "I saw those guys back there, and I saw you! Who wouldn't help out in a situation like that?"

The boy shifted his gaze around the room. He could always ring for a nurse if he got too tired of this guy, but then again this was Heiwajima Shizuo he was dealing with. Setting an army of nurses on him to drag him out of the hospital would do no good. "So you're just visiting me out of common decency?"

Shizuo shrugged. "If you've heard of me you know I don't do things without a reason," he said, taking off his blue sunglasses and cleaning the lenses on his shirt, "I came to warn you."

Masaomi's ears perked up. "Warn me? Are the Blue Squares planning another ambush?"

"See, this is just what I'm talkin' about," Shizuo said, pointing at Masaomi with his glasses, "It's just about gangs, gangs, gangs now. Just violence. That can't be healthy for a kid your age."

Masaomi crossed his arms. His IV tugged at his hand just the tiniest bit but he ignored it. "Gotta protect my Scarves, Shizuo. I'll fight those Squares with everything I've got, whether I want to or not."

Shizuo shook his head. "Those kids lived, if you have to know. They're all here in the hospital right now. One's in critical condition, but—"

The boy practically jumped out of his bed. One of his guys was in the ICU? Damn those Blue Squares, they had some nerve to pull that off! "Damn it…," Masaomi spat.

"See this is just what I'm talkin' about," the man said, "You're just going to get caught up in violence from here on out, you're not going to get outta it. Fighting will become your life."

Masaomi rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm really not in the mood to listen to a lecture," he smirked, "Especially from someone like you."

"Tch." Shizuo shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out the window onto the street. "You know, violence isn't the right path. Not for me, not for you, not for anyone."

"You're sure one to talk."

Shizuo looked back at Masaomi and said, "Damn right I am. In and out of hospitals my whole life, look where it's gotten me. And you aren't turning out much different."

Masaomi laughed and showed off another bright smile. "Shizuo, if you're comparing me to you, you couldn't be more off the mark. This is my first and last time in the hospital, I'm not letting those Squares near my Scarves again."

"And you're doing that by fighting," Shizuo said flatly. He stood up straight and put on his shades again. "Guess I said what I had to say. Later."

"One more question," Masaomi said, "You're going around preaching nonviolence, and here you've got the rep as the strongest and most violent person in Ikebukuro. Some kind of sick irony?"

Shizuo looked over his shoulder at the boy. "I'm gonna get stronger and beat my violence," he said, "And kid, once I do that this town will have had enough crazy bastards running around and fighting without you and your Scarves to deal with, too. Get it?"

Masaomi shrugged. "I'm not making promises here."

"And what if you're fighting and you have to fight a friend? What you gonna do then?"

"My friends are in the Scarves," the boy said, "either that or they're not involved in this at all. I've got no reason to fight them."

Shizuo turned back toward the door. "Do what you want," he said as he exited.

Masaomi lay back in his pillows and stared up at the grey ceiling. In the few and far between instances when he'd come across Heiwajima Shizuo on the street, he'd never heard him speak that much without hitting something. The tone of his voice had been eerily serious. It was suddenly too cold. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and tried finding sleep again, maybe erasing that pointless conversation from his drugged up brain completely. His mind was just starting to go blank when his cell phone went off. "Damn it, let me sleep," he grumbled, grabbing it off the bedside table and flipping it open.

It was a text from Mikado, his friend from elementary school. Reading the text, Masaomi smiled to himself and tapped out a response. "Geez, haven't talked to that guy in forever," he said to no one in particular. He sent the message and dropped the orange cell phone onto the table, bundling himself up in blankets once again and dozing off at last.

Wow, who knew Durarara! was so much fun to write for? I hoped I kept Shizuo in character, that he wasn't too talkative or nice :) Masaomi's a really cool character to write for, too. This was interesting to write, I hope you liked reading it!