Izaya's office has never been so cluttered. The computer is on, and displays the blank screen with a dim look. Screws, metal frames, and doll limbs are scattered around his desk. But the informant doesn't care. His face holds a malicious smirk, and his hands tinker with the machine in front of him. His cell phone, which has dropped to the ground, shows alerts for 17 messages. And, at the end of the day, where he's completed just a little but more, he knows he only has Shizuo to thank.
The cost of life comes much cheaper than thought.
Orihara is finally done. Broken toys that had once been usable, the scrap metal from downtown Ikebukuro- even the children's clothes from the donation building a few blocks down. All of these precious human-made items have all been of great service to him. That selfish part of humans, the one that causes them to throw away what they have for newer ones, has all been helpful to bring this project to a final close. He steps out the building, ready for some fresh air.
The male walks through the street or the bustling city, acting just like the lost cat he is. It's surprising to say, but he's rather excited today. There's a skip in his step, and a cheerful hum. Some people are afraid, feeling somewhat terrified of his new attitude. Others have nothing more to say as they rush through the crowds without interest. It's quiet, and it has been for a long time. There's been no massive fights, no gang wars-
Nothing.
Of course, if you were to ask Izaya about that, he would have said nothing.