Disclamer: I do not own Durarara! or its characters. Nor do I own any of the alternatives.
Tokyo's small entertainment district of Ikebukuro is known to have many monsters roaming its streets. The Black Rider who rides a black motorcycle with no headlights or license plate and was said to be headless. The Slasher who is known for many stabbing casualties and a list of victims and followers. The Yellow Scarves who had run amuck as they beat the innocent in their search for the Slasher. The colorless Dollars who are so mysterious that not much is known of their activities. A pair of Otakus in the back of a van who can make grown men beg for mercy as they re-enact their favorite manga and anime. The co-owner of a sushi shop, who would win at a fist fight. A debt collector's bodyguard who dresses like a bartender. And an info-broker from Shinjuku who loves humans. They are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the monsters. To the everyday eye, they appear like normal people who just live out their lives. Normal humans, and yet they are monsters. And yet, despite their monstrosity, another monster hate them. Well then again, he hates all of humanity.
Hachimenroppi Orihara shut his curtains after watching the disgusting world around him and stares at his small apartment, especially at the mirror in the back. It depicts his slender form, short black hair, his pale face which bore a sullen expressed, and his infamous ruby eyes. Blood, they reminded him of blood. His wrist started to feel itchy and tingly again, and he knew exactly what he needed to do tonight. He grabbed his switchblade from the edge of his kitchen counter, a sketchbook from under his futon, and his favorite black and red fur jacket what was lazily left in the corner. One of those monsters gave that knife to him to, as he quote, "Keep one of my favorite human alive." He mentally spat at his words.
I've hated humans, but you are the one I hate the most. You toy with them more like dolls and chess pieces, but I do agree with you that they can be chaotic when they want to be. They have done nothing but destroy another and steal. They will take from another just to please themselves for a short amount of time. They are disgusting, flawed, and sinned, yet they only desire happiness in the end. I myself including. But I am different than those pigs. I will admit, I am impure and disgusting. I want nothing more but to get rid of it; all of it, all of this human scum. And that's exactly what I am going to do.
The 21-year-old stepped out into the cool night and made his way into downtown. He hated crowds and he hated that everyone gave him a slightly dirty look. It didn't help that he looked a lot like his cousin Izaya the info-broker who messes with humans and has many enemies. But his favorite place to do his personal fixation just so happens to be on the outskirts of the popular area. An abandoned building that was famous for its suicide death count. Izaya loves bring people, especially "depressed" high school girls, here just to mess with them and convince them to jump to their deaths; some of which were saved by the Black Rider. But the info-broker was busy getting chased by the fortissimo again and the Black Rider busy with her ordeals with an underground doctor.
Perfect. No witnesses and nothing to stop me this time.
Hachimenroppi sat on the edge of the building and pulled out his knife. He pulls up his left sleeve, remove the old bandage wrappings and made long slits across his wrist. He hissed at the first contact, but he was used to the pain after years of doing this. Raising his arm upward to let the blood drip down his arm. He opened the sketchbook he brought and opened it to a blank page. It collected the liquid garnet onto its white page.
The raven admits this is an odd hobby, even Izaya thought it was weird, but it does calm him in some twisted way. He feels as if his humanity is leaking in the form of blood and to prove its impurity, stains the page. Later he would go back to the page when the blood dries to write what he felt and he hated about human, and about himself again.
When he was satisfied with the amount on the mard paper, he sets it aside and stands up to feel the wind whisking past and through him.
It really is a calm night tonight, he thought as he stares at the dark sky, the full moon illuminating his face. So calm, yet that had to happen. But at least I do have an escape. Just one step and i can leave this rotten world. Just one-
That moment there was a rumble from nearby and the sound crashing and someone screaming "IIIIIZAYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAA!" could be heard, but the shockwave of whatever Shizuo threw causes Hachimenroppi to lose his footing and fall towards the ground. He scoffed, closed his eyes and smiled slightly; waiting for death. Waiting for the pain of his skull cracking from the force of gravity.
But it never came.
Instead he felt like two arm under him; one under his knees and another supporting his back. His left side was pushed against a relatively warm and sturdy body. He opened his eyes and say a semi-childish face or a boy with messy but tame blond hair, wide carmine eyes shielded by wire framed spectacles, and a white scarf that covered his mouth and parts of his nose.
"Are you okay?" The boy asked him, his voice soft and gentle. Almost like, an innocent child.
Hello everyone, Legend here. I recently got into Durarara! and I am on the Shizaya bandwagon. And out of all of the alternatives, Roppi and Tsuki are my favorite. Once again, I do not own Durarara! or any of the alternatives. Hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to share any questions, comments, concerns, or complaints. Have a good day now.
Bye Bye Pi!