Chapter One- Ever The Thinking Man
Sunny days were the best- the birds were singing (but not too loudly), the stores were full (but not too crowded), the children were laughing (but not too obnoxiously), the old men were smiling (but not too lustfully, which was okay), the old women were knitting (but not too rapidly), and the water was flowing in a nice, even rhythm that was not so much suggestive of urination as it was of a calming, running brook.
Today, Shizuo felt like that brook, except he wasn't running. He was sitting perfectly still, relaxed and content, like he wasn't capable of being the fortissimo of Ikebukuro. In fact, had anyone been watching, they wouldn't have believed he were even capable of pianissimo, which was precisely why they weren't watching- Shizuo was so tranquil that he had become part of the serene setting, unnoticed by even the birds in the little park.
Maybe there was something to this 'Dollars' thing, after all.
Anyway, today was the perfect day for people-watching, and Shizuo was an undiscovered master at it. Watching others made him feel like he were a part of whatever fun they were having, and, in some strange way, when they were happy, he was happy. So, in this vicarious nature he sang at just the right volume with the birds, browsed with the fashionistas, smiled and restrained himself with the old men, neatly made loving keepsakes with the old women, and was chilled like the brook, as we have already discussed.
The scene was almost perfect.
The only thing he couldn't synchronize with was the person sitting across the park from him. She had been fine earlier- ten minutes ago, she had been sketching or writing or whatever she'd been doing in an orderly and mellow fashion, but suddenly she had jumped in her seat and vigorously erased whatever had been on her tablet, and then scratched around on the paper with such haste and persistence that Shizuo could swear that he could hear her pencil lead strokes in his ears. It got worse when she began to tilt her medium to the left and right. It made Shizuo curious- it wasn't like what the elderly women were knitting, which was in plain sight, or what the birds were composing, which was simple and predictable- this was hidden and mysterious, and Shizuo was curious. He subconsciously began to twitch his head in tandem with the girl's paper pad. After a while, it made his neck sore and his curiosity began to turn into annoyance.
His invisible status had downgraded into that of a mere statue, and a few pigeons landed on him.
Normally, our sophisticated and mature Shizuo would have been terminally distracted from the creative chaos across the way in favor of being contented that some like-minded individuals deemed it safe to land on him (or even peck around a fifty foot radius of his bench for crumbs), but his innocent rapture was ruined when one of the birds announced their landing with a restroom break- apparently, the brook wasn't as soothing to everyone as it was to Shizuo.
He jumped at the wetness and saddened as the startled pigeons left, but his attitude changed drastically when he touched his head and brought his moistened finger to his nose to decide what it was.
It was, to his dismay, most definitely not ice cream.
But did his anger ruin this day? No! Not even violence personified could hinder the perfect sunshine and hinted breeze. The day itself was fine- just not from the point of view of these particular Ikebukurians. After all, everything is relative, right? Well, such discussions are of little consequence- let us return to the focus of this tale.
Shizuo, to his credit, hadn't truly lost his cool until he'd overturned the bench when he'd overreacted at his feathered friend's gift. Of course, after the upset bench garnered the negative attention of the park, Shizuo forgot all about his wonderful mood and threw it out with the nearest trash can and made the whole ordeal looked like one continuous rampage. The can crumpled into garbage (he had indeed perfected the art of littering) and Shizuo must have internalized the idea of destroying the environment because he proceeded to uproot and pile on the closest tree before moving on to another bench. Onto the pile it went, along its bretheren and the other trashcans and a water fountain and port-a-potty. Finally, there was only one throwable object left, and it was a bench- the bench that belonged to that girl with the scratchy pencil and perplexing paper. He'd get his hands on that paper and see what the cause of all his rage was, and then-! And then-!
Well, he didn't get that far into what would happen afterwards, and it really didn't matter that he hadn't, because the bench was empty. Perhaps he couldn't register her presence due to all the dirt he'd stirred up in his rage. He waited a few more minutes for the dust to settle, just to be sure.
Indeed, she was gone. Shizuo's blood pressure dropped to its normal level in tandem with the airborne soil as he stood in bewilderment in front of the vacant bench.
He had made quick work of that park- there was no way she could have gotten over her shock and run away in the time it took for him to throw such a tiny tantrum. For goodness' sake, the cashier at the boutique across the street still hadn't regained her thought process long enough to finish applying her lipstick- and she was conditioned to witness scenes like this every other Thursday!
And then, like with most things, Shizuo put the whole ordeal out of his mind when he saw Tom approach.
!
END CHAPTER. THAT IS MY LINE BREAKER THING.
Hi, guys! This is going to start off as the maddening mishaps of Shizuo Heiwajima and probably spiral out of control into something else just as wacky- now that you've given this chapter a try, I'll tell you that there will be an oc gal, but no matter what happens and no matter what other sap and crap and emotional turmoil gets thrown in the mix, I'm gonna try to keep this entertaining and zany... (and if my writing style hasn't clued you in yet, being completely "un-zany" is "un-possible".) This is Durarara!, after all! There's gotta be a bit of everything!
Don't forget to read and review... and submit suggestions!
...Hmm. I'm feeling some Shizuo with a strong side of something Northern European next time...
