Chapter One
It was a beautiful autumn day, crisp and clear, one where even in the heart of Ikebukuro, you could still smell the trees. The bright sun shined in direct contrast with Masaomi's mood; the proverbial black cloud was hovering over his head as he made his way down the street with plodding footsteps. He could swear that he could hear words echoing with every step.
/ "It's not like it was that easy for me either, okay? Why don't you just build yourself a bridge and get over it?" /
His own words, sometimes. Mikado's words, sometimes.
/ "I had a lot on my mind, and I know that doesn't make it okay, I know that, but at least – I tried when I could, I tried to protect Sonohara-san, which I didn't see you doing – " /
He had spoken harsh words in anger before. Of course, everyone had. But some things could never be taken back, and he was fairly sure that this argument was one of those times. The ironic thing was that he had met with Mikado to try to make things right. He had missed Mikado while he was away with Saki, more than words could say. He wanted to make things right between them.
/ "Don't start that bullshit with me, you're just as naïve and idealistic as you always were. Some of us have to live in the real world!" /
But the resentment was too deep. Maybe too deep to ever overcome.
/ "Okay, fine, I'm nothing but a little baby, I should have stayed in the country, I get it, okay? That doesn't give you the right to come in here and take my head off for things that were far beyond my control!" /
He couldn't even remember how the argument had started. One wrong word, a smile at the wrong time, a shrug when an actual reply was needed. He remembered the resentment building up inside him, a bitter black poison that finally started gushing from his mouth.
He didn't remember which one of them had started it, but he remembered ending it himself.
/ "I wish that you had never come to Ikebukuro! No, that's not enough. I wish – I wish that I had never become friends with you! I wish I had never even met you!" /
Mikado had gone white then, silent and still for several long moments. Despite the anger, the guilt, the harsh feelings that had become harsh words, he truly loved his friend. It had taken him several tries before he had been able to speak, and even then all he could manage was a faint apology for having been such a burden, before he turned on his heels and fled.
The vicious satisfaction at having made Mikado run with his tail between his legs had lasted all of five minutes before Masaomi started to wonder what the hell he had just done. Overnight, the hesitant regret had become stark self-recrimination and sorrow so deep that it threatened to swallow him whole.
He knew Mikado well enough to understand that Mikado would never approach him after he had said that – that cool, diffident politeness in social situations where they couldn't avoid each other was all he would ever get from Mikado again. He couldn't stand the thought of it. Couldn't stand the thought of watching as Mikado treated Anri or Kadota-tachi to the same easy affection that they had once shared. And since Mikado would never do or say anything, would honor Masaomi's request, then it was up to Masaomi to apologize.
It was Sunday, so he was now heading towards Mikado's apartment. He wasn't sure what he was going to stay, but figured he would start off with 'I'm an idiot', follow it up with 'a really, really sorry idiot', and then see whether or not Mikado slammed the door in his face or what.
But when Mikado opened the door, the look on his face wasn't anger or hatred, like Masaomi was afraid of, or happiness that his friend was coming to see him, which Masaomi had secretly hoped for, or even wary suspicion, which was what he had honestly expected. It was a simple blank look, followed by Mikado's usual polite, "Can I help you?"
Taken off guard, Masaomi stammered, "Oh, uh, M-Mikado? I came – I had to come apologize, I'm so sorry, I'm always such a jerk – "
Halfway through this, he saw the little frown crease Mikado's forehead, and the other teenager said, "I'm sorry, but, uhm, who are you?"
A pang of uneasiness shot through Masaomi's stomach. Why was Mikado pretending that he didn't know him? Was this how he figured he would get through the days? By truly honoring Masaomi's wish and acting as if they had never met before this very moment?
He couldn't live like that. He had to make his friend see how truly sorry he was. "Mikado, it's me, please don't be like that – I understand that I deserve it, I deserve to have my ass kicked all the way to Hokkaido and back, but I – "
"No, really," Mikado said, staring at him in open bewilderment. "I – I really don't know who you are."
Masaomi was still working on what the hell he could say to that when he heard footsteps inside the apartment and tensed. "Mikado-kun, who was at the – oh, Masaomi-kun." Izaya appeared behind Mikado, looking over his shoulder. He was clearly surprised and, although most people wouldn't have noticed, puzzled to see Masaomi there. "Were you looking for me?"
"No, I – I came to see Mikado, why the hell would I ever look for you?" Masaomi asked, retaining enough wits to snarl at Izaya.
"You know Mikado-kun?" Izaya asked, filing this tidbit of information away.
"No, he doesn't," Mikado said. He frowned hard at Masaomi and said, "I think – you go to Raira, right? But you're in class B. I don't think we've ever actually spoken before."
"But I – but you – " Masaomi couldn't handle it anymore. Whether Mikado was just screwing with him and enlisting Izaya for help (but why would Izaya be in Mikado's apartment? a little voice nagged in the back of Masaomi's mind), or whether something truly bizarre was happening, either way he couldn't handle it. He bowed his head, mumbled, "Pardon the intrusion," and then turned on his heels and fled the way he had forced Mikado to do the day before.
Masaomi walked for several long minutes without thinking about where he was going, his mind awhirl with confusion. Strange things happened in Ikebukuro every day, but this was one he wasn't willing to accept, not yet. Mikado couldn't have forgotten him. He might be angry, might be hurt, might even hate him, but he would never have forgotten him.
Since Izaya couldn't be trusted, he had to get information from an alternative source. He took a shaky breath as his nerves calmed somewhat, as he formulated a plan. Then he took out his phone and texted Saki. 'You busy?'
It was only moments before she replied, in her usual sweet-but-slightly-coy manner. 'Never too busy for you.'
Masaomi breathed another sigh of relief. It wasn't that everyone had forgotten him. No, he already knew that. Izaya had still known him, and had acted according to their relationship as of the last status that Masaomi knew. It was only Mikado who had been affected – which he hadn't been, Masaomi reminded himself sharply. It was just a trick. Mikado had gotten some stupid idea in his head and Izaya, that snake, had probably encouraged him.
He met Saki at her favorite café and, unable to help himself, dove right in. "I had a fight with Mikado."
She met this statement with a blank face. Masaomi's stomach began to churn. "Mikado . . .?" she asked.
Masaomi had to swallow hard before he could speak. Mikado might act like he didn't know him out of some confused idea that it was what Masaomi wanted, Izaya might pull a nasty trick like this, but Saki would never, ever lie to him. "Do you know him? Ryugamine Mikado?"
After a few moments, her face cleared. "Oh! Izaya-san's errand boy?"
"Right," Masaomi managed, in a strangled tone of voice.
Of course, it all made perfect sense. How, in a world where he and Mikado had never met, would Mikado have wound up in Ikebukuro? Because he had still gotten his computer and ventured into the online world, still formed the Dollars, still met 'Kanra'. Instead of Masaomi encouraging him to come to Ikebukuro, Izaya had. That might explain why Izaya had been at Mikado's apartment, too.
"You got in a fight with him?" Saki's tone was somewhat disapproving. "I thought we had agreed we would avoid Izaya-san."
"Trying to avoid Izaya-san is like trying to avoid the common cold," Masaomi muttered. "You can try, but that doesn't mean he won't still get you."
Saki laughed, the noise filled with warmth. "I suppose that's true, but what were you doing tangling with his new protégé?"
"Nothing. Never mind." Masaomi shook his head and tried to wave this aside. "It doesn't matter, just forget I brought it up."
Saki arched her eyebrows, but apparently decided not to push any further. She knew Masaomi well enough to know that if he wasn't to talk, he would, and would do it in his own way when he was ready. So she nodded and then changed the subject to their plans for the day. Masaomi was staring off into space, tense and distracted. Finally, Saki laughed again and said, "You're no good to me at all today, Masaomi. Why don't you go find somewhere to relax? I'll just do the same."
"I'm sorry," he said, chagrined.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "It's fine."
They said their goodbyes and Masaomi wandered back to his apartment in a daze. He hadn't particularly felt like dealing with his parents when he had gotten back, but they had accepted his return with the same blind serenity that they had accepted everything else he ever did. He sometimes wondered what exactly he would have to do, in order to catch his parents' attention.
Hesitantly, dreading it, he pulled up the Dollars' website on his computer. If he looked at the forums or the chatlogs, he thought he might get a better idea of what this alternate universe he had somehow created might entail. He entered the password and it worked fine, but then it displayed a message. A 'welcome new user' message and instructions on how to create a profile for the website.
If he had never met Mikado, how different would the past year of events have been? The trouble with Yagiri Pharmaceuticals wouldn't have changed that much. It might have gone down even more easily, with Izaya right behind Mikado the entire way. But the events with the Blue Squares taking over the Yellow Scarves, with the Slasher . . . they must have happened differently. But how differently? And how was he supposed to find out? How could he gather information that everyone else would think he already knew?
And did it even matter? Whatever had happened, it was over. Somehow it had happened without his ever meeting Mikado. Who cared now about the exact events? Masaomi groaned and flopped backwards onto his futon.
There was a third option – one he was trying not to consider. An option beyond 'Mikado is messing with you' and secondary to 'something truly weird is going on'. The option of 'am I just losing my mind?' It hung over him now, the specter of madness. Maybe he had wanted a friend so badly that he had just invented all of this in his head.
"Don't be an idiot," he said to himself, fiercely. "You might be stupid, but you're not crazy. If you were going to invent a fantasy world for yourself, it would suck a lot less than this."
This decision made, he continued to stare up at his ceiling and ponder his options.
Ignoring the obvious problem that he had no idea how to go about fixing this mess he had made, he focused on the simpler, although by no means easier, dilemma of whether or not he should even try. Maybe Mikado would be better off without Masaomi in his life. It was true that he felt like all he had ever done around his friend was screw things up. Mikado was probably happy enough. He had still founded the Dollars. He probably had a good life.
All of which he thought he could accept, but whenever he was on the verge of giving in, he could hear Saki's voice saying 'Izaya-san's errand boy?' and he got so angry that he wanted to scream. Izaya couldn't have Mikado. Izaya had already taken so much from him. And the thought of Izaya bringing Mikado up as his 'protégé', of corrupting and twisting his unbelievably naïve, idealistic, genuinely decent friend . . .
That was one thing Masaomi knew he could never accept.
There had to be a way to fix this. He had done this, somehow, so there had to be a way to undo it.
Masaomi rose from his futon and left his apartment in search of answers.
~to be continued~
