The underground is rumbling.
The sound, the quaking, the slight rattling of stones on pavement; they all meant one thing— the subways were alive and breathing. They move daily, but he only ever seems to notice when they leave. 'Thats all people do. They come, they leech, they piss me off, and then they leave again'.
The city had a funny way of sucking people in, which was a complete contradiction to what he had just thought. He knew that fact well; it was the only reason he was still in this city. No one worked in this city; the city worked them, and he was no exception. Perhaps he had some "abilities" and street smarts that made him more adept at survival in this crazy town, but at the same time; they hindered him by making him the target for almost every gang member that lurked in the alleyways.
Now of course, you can imagine how difficult this can make a person's life. Perhaps "difficult" isn't the best word to use in this situation; seeing as "annoying" fits so much better. He had no trouble and had never had any trouble dispatching the random punk who thought to be the hero by going after him- Heiwajima Shizuo, the strongest man in Ikebukuro ; which was a title he didn't wear proudly.
No, being the strongest or best at anything is never good. Being at the top only means that everyone knows your name and wants to kick your ass for your title. This usually isn't a problem though, because even though people want your title, there's a good chance they're too afraid to try and put their plans in action; especially when the man they want to kill can survive getting hit by an 18-wheeler and throws vending machines like he's throwing a football.
Being strong had never been much of gift to him, though, because while he had the strength to bend light poles in half, he also had the temper to match. The strangest part was that he hated violence. Absolutely hated it, but that didn't stop him from busting caps on a regular basis. It was all about impulse control, something he clearly knew nothing about.
'This city never sleeps', he thinks to himself, casually walking behind Tom Tanaka- his employer. He's much shorter than Shizuo, and with a strange dreadlocks look going for him, but he pays and he's not a complete dick.
Shizuo is like a light switch when it comes to his mood and emotions. Walking with Tom, all he can think about is the hundreds of people that pass him each day. He doesn't know their lives, nor does he care, but whenever he spends hours a day doing all the hard work for Tom, all he wants to do is sit back and relax; maybe smoke a little. On the other hand, whenever he finds the time to sit and relax, all he wants to do is get up and move around. That was another thing about this city that he was well aware of. Relaxing makes you stir-crazy, work makes you tired, and there never seemed to be any balance.
Shizuo is Tom's bodyguard; which basically means he's Tom's "wall of meat", so to speak. Tom would be pummeled and eaten alive if Shizuo wasn't around. The name "Shizuo Heiwajima", strikes enough fear into the people Tom is collecting from, that they don't even bother fighting and just hand the money they owe over. Sometimes, they try to wheel and deal, though, and that's when Shizuo ends up tossing convenience store trashcans and stop signs all across the city. He's still a light switch- his anger fits seem to come from nowhere, even though they boil over for some time inside him before he ends up snapping.
"Shizuo, you hungry? It's nearly seven and neither of us has eaten all day," Tom asks, still strolling along the sidewalk in his 'Business-man' suit. He's actually quite a gentleman.
"I could eat," he replies. He's bored too.
"Sweet! I was hoping you'd say so," Tom continues, clapping his hands together. "Where should we-" but he's cut of by a very familiar voice. A voice that always seem to stand on this corner, and usually makes very little sense when it comes to pronunciation.
"Come, eat at Russia Sushi! It good! It cheap! It not made from human, even on half price days!" Simon is a big guy, and would probably be very scary if he wasn't such a pacifist. "Oh, Shizuo!" he enunciates each syllable. "Come, eat! If you don't eat, you get mad; if you get mad, you fight, and fighting no good."
Tom turns to Shizuo and kinda jerks his head as if to edge him into the sushi restaurant. Shizuo just shakes his head.
"Sorry, but if that's where you wanna eat, I'll just head home."
"B-but, Shizuo... c'mon!" Tom starts, but is only greeted by the back of Shizuo's hand.
"Sorry Tom, but I'm sure this isn't in my contract."
Tom pouts as Shizuo walks away. Then he turns to Simon and mumbles; "I didn't have any walking around money... now I can't eat..."
The sidewalks are brimming with people, each on their way to nowhere. Shizuo is no exception; he's just another face in the crowd. The people that know his name- know what he can do- often get a little uncomfortable around him, and despite his usually aloof personality, he does seem to take notice. He's just accepted that people like him aren't well received into society, and he pretends not to care, but like any powerful man, he has his insecurities too. He isn't a brick wall.
He likes the city at night, though.
He thinks the building and street lights are "pretty", which seems to be the best word to describe it, though "pretty" doesn't seem to suit his personality. His face, maybe, but not his personality.
He walks past a bar and feels a sense of irony. 'I feel like I should be walking in and starting a shift...' he thinks to himself, and almost has to laugh. He had a certain penchant for not only hurling vending machines across the street, but also being a snappy dresser. Every day, he was in his bartender get-up- a dress shirt, pants, signature weskit, and the all important bow tie. He didn't find it odd that he was always dressed as a bartender; he thought it was symbolic. They were clothes from his kid brother; they reminded him to slow down and try and stay in once place every now and then.
His house isn't far from where he'd grown up as a child. It isn't the fanciest place in the world and the train that passes through was a little obnoxious, but he'd grown used to it over time of not being able to afford anything better. As he strolls nonchalantly down the street with the sun lolling on the horizon, a trashcan topples over and catches his eye. It doesn't necessarily surprise him, it just breaks the quiet.
As the red lights flicker and a train charges through, an aged black lab trots past him with it's head hanging low. It takes a moment to stop and notice him, and then continues on down the road towards Shizuo's house. Shizuo lets out a 'Hmmf' noise in acknowledgment of the elderly dog, and then continues onto his house; though it appears as if he's following the dog.
Once he reaches his bedraggled house, he notices the dog on his front steps. It wags it's tail when it sees him and then lets out a happy bark coupled with a cough from it's old age. He notices that the dog has a blue and yellow striped bandana around it's neck.
"What are you doing, dog?" he asks the lab casually. It barks and wags it's tail harder. "Seriously, move off the steps," he continues as he inches towards the raggedy thing. It's a big dog, easily seventy pounds, and Shizuo doesn't think he's ever seen a lab that big.
It barks again, and what appears to be a grin spreads on it's face. The thing was not only keeping him from getting in his house, but it was taunting him too.
Shizuo thinks about removing the dog by force, but that's almost ridiculous and seems a little nonsensical. Beat up a dog because it's on your front steps? Please, that's just cruel, it's probably just looking for food.
"Listen," Shizuo says as he lets out a sigh. "I'll feed you if you get the hell off my stoop."
The dog stays in it's place and barks more.
"Jesus, what the hell's it gonna take to get you out of here?" The thought to try and go around the dog hadn't come across his mind. What if it was rabid?
"Kota!" says a sudden voice. It's very high pitched, almost more of a squeal. "I said keep him from going inside, not piss him off." The dog turns it's head around and lets it's tongue hang out.
"Huh? Don't get snippy with me, mister!" The voice seems to originate from a girl. She's small and petite, but she walks tough. The dog lets out one more bark and then runs to her, licking her hand. She smiles and then her tough walk turns into a gleeful skip as she toys with the dog; who's all to glad to get the attention.
"I take it this dog is yours?" Shizuo adds with a grunt.
"Yes, he's my boy. I apologize for him bothering you..." she pauses and then turns to face him. She's got a red backpack hanging over her shoulder. It's got something it it that makes it look lumpy. "But the momentary trouble he's brought you was necessary."
"Necessary?" Shizuo asks. She'd piqued his curiosity, though her wide smile kind of gave him the creeps.
"Very much. You're Heiwajima Shizuo. I've heard about you from the underground; the blond hair and bartender get-up gave it way. Ikebukuro's strongest, was it?" She paces around in a strange 'skip-hop' manner that puts him slightly at unease. Kids are scary. Much scarier than adults.
"And what are you getting at?" he asks, continuing to be indifferent.
"I'm going to be frank. I've just 'procured' over one-million, five-hundred eighty one thousand, two hundred yen. And yes, by 'procured', I mean 'stole'."
Shizuo stands still, staying completely bereft for a moment before breaking out in laughter.
"Holy shit, kid! What are you, fifteen?" he manages to get out before cracking up again.
"Fourteen, ass-hole," she spits.
"And you expect me to believe that? What are you even trying to ask me?"
"Look, as you can imagine, stealing this much money doesn't sit well with a lot of people. I've heard about you and what you can do. I'd like to hire you as a body guard."
"Damn, kid, your funny. Thanks for the joke." He makes a move for his door which is no longer obstructed by a dirty lab, but in a final attempt to prove that she's telling the truth, she makes the dangerous choice of throwing her lumpy backpack at Shizuo.
It lands no where near him. Her weak arms couldn't toss the heavy bag more than ten feet.
"Nice throw, kid," he says, continuing on to the door.
"Open the damned bag!" she screams. Her dog, Kota, jumps a little in shock. This kid was apparently a well of profanity.
Shizuo snorts and decides to appease her silly whim. He bends over and tugs at the zipper. When the bag opens, the paper contents of the bag pour out.
His eyes go wide at the sight of it.
"My name is Otsuki Harumi and I am a fourteen year old that has stolen over one-million, five-hundred eighty one thousand, two hundred yen. Will you be my body-guard?"
AN: I have no idea what I'm doing. Reviews are nice too. If the chapter titles are like, WTF?, they actually ARE relevant... in some manner. DERP.