Warning: kind of dark and contains sensitive ideology.
The scariest man in all of Tokyo walked the streets and people avoided him like the plague, leaving the streets empty and vacant. They could tell him apart from the others by his red fur-trimmed coat, and the unique way he draped it over his elbows. That and the murderous look in his eyes, the look that was only skin deep if they looked hard enough.
He only walked around after midnight, avoiding his relatives and their so-called lovers. It was practically incest at this point, with every Orihara besides himself lusting after at least one Heiwajima. Even Izaya's dumb younger sisters were obsessed with the actor kid brother of Shizuo.
Roppi kicked a rock and watched it clatter away from him. The sound scared away a skittish bird, causing its whole group to take to the air in a paranoid frenzy. It would have been fascinating, but the red-eyed raven saw it as a break in his perfect silence.
Birds were weak and timid creatures, much like that moron Psyche pretended to be. He could hold his own against an entire yakuza group, but as soon as anyone not biologically related to him was around that side of him disappeared and he was pretending to be a weak and whiny teenager, despite being 21. His boyfriend Tsugaru was worse, however, because he was the closest person Roppi had ever met to being one-faced. He seemed pure, honest and noble, but there was something in his gaze that hinted towards something else, though he never acted on it.
Sakuraya was like that, but much worse. He was downright sadistic, torturing his all-but-a-slave Shitsuo under the premise of being a tough master. Shitsuo was a moron, letting Sakuraya so whatever he wanted to him without complaint. He was a complete mystery to Roppi. While Sakuraya was entirely two-faced, Shitsuo was just blank with nothing to read from him.
Roppi stopped in a park to rest on one of the benches. A dog was chasing squirrels nearby, barking loudly and trying to climb the trees after its prey. It looked like Shizuo, barking loudly and causing damage by scratching at the tress and its paws digging into the ground with each acceleration. The brute could never control himself, ever. Especially around Izaya.
Izaya was like the squirrels. No, he was more like the murderous cat that sat in the tree, glaring down at the noisy dog and plotting its revenge. He was as easy to read as Sakuraya if you cared to pay attention. He always did things for his own benefit, and even deals that seemed beneficial to only you would benefit him. He hand his hands in everything that went on in Ikebukuro and Shinjuku, if not all of Tokyo.
The cat jumped down from the tree, mauled the dog, and ran for dear life. The dog gave chase, making Roppi snarl at the predictability of the two. Kanra and Shizuka were just like those two animals. Basic, carnal, open books with no secrets, and vicious to oppose. They liked to pretend to be like Izaya and Shizuo respectfully, but were too honest to be like the infamous demon couple of Ikebukuro.
The only one more lustful than Kanra was Delic, the playboy host who had broken almost every Tokyo woman's heart. He pretended to be all about free love and pleasuring others, but he was just another monogamous sap who bought into the popular idea of true love. If that wasn't enough, his so called destined one was the stuck-up prince-wanna-be Hibiya. Hibiya made no sense and deserved to be locked up. He deluded himself into thinking he's a prince and insisted on being referred to as such. There was no point in analyzing him, being the simplest of all the Orihara's.
Roppi got up from the bench with a sigh. He felt like drinking, but hated the disgusting bars in town. Instead he went home and left his door wide open, hoping some imbecile would break in and earn his wrath.
He didn't pass anyone on the way there, and even when climbing the five flights of stairs up to his apartment, no one's lights were on and they weren't making a sound. It was like the population of Tokyo would all go quiet when he was around.
Roppi didn't seem himself as all the scary, and yet he terrified people without doing anything. He was able to make a living off of it, by involving himself in the seeder parts of yakuza dealings, but it made him hate humans. They were afraid of him, and so rarely put up any fronts with him. When they did, it was always fake and obvious.
Humans were all so predictable. Even his relatives, who prided themselves in being different and special. They were so easy to read it was a wonder they were infamous at all. The Heiwajima's didn't put up fronts as often and were that much more transparent. They were all so weak, pathetic soles.
Roppi went into his bathroom and took out his knife. Izaya had a similar knife, the flickblade he was so fond of carrying with him. He brought others with him as well, but that one flickblade seemed to be Izaya's favorite, at least to pose with. Sakuraya preferred his katana, seemingly ceremonial or something else completely bullshit. Kanra preferred staying on the sidelines, hacking her way into disabling her enemy's systems. Hibiya didn't fight at all, being a weak and spineless coward most of the time.
The Heiwajimas were simpler. They all used their fists, though Shitsuo was a pacifist and Tsugaru only used his in self-defense or for protecting the weak. Shizuo was a lot more honest with his savage nature, letting lose on the sign posts and vending machines of Ikebukuro whenever someone pissed him off.
Roppi was nothing like them. His knife wasn't pretty or ceremonial. It was sharp and deadly, shiny only because of how little he actually used it. Roppi preferred to kill his enemies with guns. They were easy to ditch and even easier to use. His knife had a better purpose.
The raven's eyes flashed as his knife dug into his skin. He dragged the metal in a straight line across his wrist, enjoying the feeling it gave him. When the feeling faded he brought the knife down on his wrist again, repeating the process again and again until he could no longer lift his arms.
He dropped to the floor and let the blood flow from his wrists and onto the floor, his clothes, and everything else. He didn't care. Blood was easy to clean out of his stuff. He'd done it before.
No one suspected that he cut himself. They probably didn't care. Despite being his closest family, none of his cousins even noticed the scars on his wrists. If they did, they didn't ask and so didn't care. No one cared.
All of them had their own lives to live, their own secrets to keep, their own fuck buddies to fuck. They pretended to be family, but didn't even notice Roppi slowly getting paler as the days passed. Shizuo, who noticed Roppi the most purely because of his resemblance to Izaya, didn't even comment on how the color from Roppi's eyes was slowly fading with each passing week.
Soon he wouldn't wake up after cutting himself, and no one would care.