A/N: I am a sadist. I have accepted this.
Heiwajima Shizuo really did hate violence. That might be a difficult truth to swallow if you were to see him fling a man across the street like a rag doll or lift a vending machine like it were made of cardboard, but this was the truth nonetheless. Of course, one could argue that it was his anger that was truly the problem. For example, if he could control his anger, he could live up to his name and wouldn't be the very incarnation of violence. It seemed like the logical choice. You couldn't really blame Ono-sensei for trying.
-DRRR-
"Hey! We can hear you in there. If you don't answer this door, we'll be forced to break it down!" Tom rapped again at the heavy wooden door, silencing the voices that had been talking in hushed tones and the occasional giggle on the other side.
"Seriously…" he sighed, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.
"We don't have the money, old man!" A voice called from the other side of the door, belligerent and breaking off with a snort at the end.
"Yeah!" jeered another voice, "You'll leave us alone if you know what's good for you! I know someone in the Awasuku-kai who wouldn't be happy to know you people are harassing us!"
"Geez," Tom muttered, shaking his head, "who do they think we collect money for anyway?" He glanced at his partner, a tall man wearing a bartender suit and sporting a shock of blond hair. This was Heiwajima Shizuo, the strongest man in Ikebukuro.
And he was pissed.
The problem with Shizuo was that he was a bit like a stick of dynamite. There were a couple of minor telltale signs that he was going to explode: a twitching eyebrow, a curled fist, but unless you knew what to look for you probably wouldn't see it until he was throwing something ridiculously heavy an absurd distance. Shizuo had no middle ground.
"Eh, Shizuo, if you could…" Tom indicated the door, already knowing the carnage that was sure to follow. Then the strangest thing happened.
Shizuo removed his blue sunglasses, tucking them safely in his vest pocket.
Normal so far.
He clenched a fist until the knuckles cracked.
Still normal.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.
Not unusual.
And let it out slowly, relaxing completely and opening his eyes.
Definitely strange.
Calmly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, Shizuo strode over to the door and ripped it off the hinges. Wood splintered everywhere and for a moment the only sound in the apartment was the noise of wood chips hitting the ground. Then…
"Oh shit!" The handful of punks in the room that had until very recently been engaged in their card game dropped everything in panic and scrambled desperately for the makeshift weapons lying on the nearby couch. Tom watched in surprise as Shizuo calmly grabbed the lead pipe aimed for his head, ripping it out of his assailant's hands. He neatly sidestepped the baseball bat swung at his head and caught the arm of the man who had pulled a knife. Then with cold efficiency the bartender-turned-bodyguard delivered four swift punches and downed all the aggressive occupants of the room.
"Okay! Okay!" The fifth person sitting at the table hadn't gone for a weapon and he was holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I got it! I'll get your money!" Nearly tripping in his haste to get up, he continued to hold up his hands and walked slowly towards the hallway in the apartment.
"I'll get your money!" he repeated, disappearing around a corner. Tom eyed Shizuo curiously, wondering about the odd amount of restraint he had shown. Furniture hadn't even gone flying this time, despite the fact that there was a perfectly good couch right next to him. One of the punks on the floor groaned, but wisely stayed down. Shizuo looked over to Tom and for a moment the debt collector could have sworn he saw something truly frightening in his friend's gaze. The moment passed and the Shizuo he knew returned.
"Tch." The blond grumbled, dropping the, now bent, lead pipe he still held. He patted his pocket, finding the cigarettes he was looking for and lit one.
"Nice work," Tom commented, glancing at his watch. How long did it take to get 100,000 yen anyway?
"Thanks," grunted Shizuo, blowing a puff of smoke into the air and watching as it curled and dissipated. Tom cast a glance around the apartment. A state of the art sound system, gaming consoles and an expensive-looking computer were occupying most of the living room space. It was enough to make one wonder why these punks needed money in the first place. Of course, Tom knew better than to ask. Asking was above his pay grade.
Shizuo took a final puff of his smoke and snuffed it in one of the glasses left on the table. He glanced questioningly at Tom, clearly mirroring his senpai's thoughts.
"You don't think…" the bodyguard started, when he was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering in the next room. They exchanged looks; Tom's grimace and Shizuo's scowl. Hurrying into the adjoining room they discovered the window was indeed broken and the fifth man was already at the bottom of the fire exit ladder, jumping the last few rungs and hitting the ground hard. Shizuo gripped the windowsill until it cracked under his hands, completely unmindful of the broken shards of glass digging into his fingers. The man at the bottom shot a glance upwards, grinning and sprinting away. If he had been fleeing from anyone else, he would have made a clean getaway. But Heiwajima Shizuo was not anyone else. Grabbing a desk lamp off of a nearby end table, Shizuo stormed back towards the window. Then it happened again.
That bizarre change.
That deep breath and calmness.
It should have made Shizuo less frightening, but somehow it almost seemed to have the opposite effect. With casual ease, the former bartender threw the lamp nearly half a building block, pegging the running man directly in the back of the head with enough force to shatter the lamp and throw him to the ground where he remained. Just as quickly, the agitated Shizuo returned, the crease between his brows furrowing once again and his bloodied hand clenching.
Strange. Tom mused to himself. Aloud, he said,
"Well, let's go collect our friend, shall we?"
-DRRR-
"Here," Tom offered Shizuo a Styrofoam cup, which he accepted gratefully.
"Thanks," Shizuo cupped the coffee in his hands, warming them against the icy chill. Ikebukuro didn't usually see snow in the winter, but the news had warned this year could be different. At any rate, they could expect cold temperatures and bone-chilling winds. The two men walked in companionable silence for some time, sipping at their respective beverages.
"Hey Shizuo," Tom began hesitantly, glancing over to him.
"Hm?"
"Is everything alright with you lately? You've been acting a little…well…different."
"Eh? Different how?" Shizuo sipped at his coffee, enjoying the pleasant burn as it warmed his throat and stomach.
"Well," Tom scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "Not that it hasn't been a nice change, but you've been…very…efficient lately. To be honest, this last week I can hardly recall you getting angry. Even when that one guy spit on you. I thought you were going to rip his head off, but…suddenly you just…I don't know….got very calm."
"Oh. That." Shizuo stopped walking for a moment, causing Tom to stop as well and look at his partner curiously. Shizuo glanced away, not quite meeting his senior's eyes. "I've been seeing someone…"'
"Really?" Tom grinned, taking a hearty swig of his own coffee, "Good for you! She must be quite something!"
"No! I mean, no it's not like that," Shizuo met Tom's gaze then. "I mean, I've been seeing someone to help me with…with the anger thing."
"Ah," Tom nodded understandingly. Shizuo shuffled his feet a moment, then continued walking, Tom following suit. They rounded a corner, getting out of the worst of the wind.
"So how is it going then?" Tom questioned, curious. Shizuo thought for a moment. How much should he tell his senpai? That Ono-sensei had never seen another case like his? How the doctor had told him he was ruled by his anger, and with his incredible strength, too dangerous for society? Should he mention The Calm? How it was the last resort to deal with the incredible danger that was his temper.
"It's okay," Shizuo began hesitantly, "He taught me a method of dealing with anger."
"That's what you've been using this past week?" Tom asked, looking up into Shizuo's eyes, coffee momentarily forgotten.
"Yeah, it's…like a meditation technique or something I guess. I feel really calm." Shizuo answered. Tom was silent for a moment, his face thoughtful.
"Well," he said at last, "I'll admit you are calm during those times, but also…how do I put this? Cold? Efficient? To be perfectly honest, it's a little frightening to watch you throw a streetlamp three blocks with a look so casual you could be pouring tea." Shizuo frowned. It was hard to describe The Calm to someone who had never experienced anything like it before. Cold and efficient was pretty accurate, but it was more than that. He felt like a different person. Someone who wasn't ruled by anger. He could calmly assess any situation and instantly knew the best course of action. Without anger or guilt or hatred clouding his judgement, everything felt so…simple. He wondered with a sudden start, if this was how Kasuka always lived his life. It made sense that his younger brother was so successful then, Shizuo decided ruefully. Shizuo had apparently gotten enough wild emotions for the both of them.
"I suppose," Tom continued, "it's not really an issue. I'm glad you're finding something that works for you, Shizuo." He downed the last of his coffee with a smile and tossed the empty cup in a nearby trash receptacle. His smile disappeared for a moment to be replaced by a look of apprehension when a thought seemed to occur to him.
"I don't suppose since you've discovered this control you've run into…" The man with dreadlocks glanced over at Shizuo, leaving his sentence hanging. It didn't matter. They both knew what he meant. Or rather, who.
"No." Shizuo answered, shortly. In truth, part of him was worried. What if all of his hard work controlling his anger was for nothing? If there were any holes in his defenses to be found, doubtlessly that man would find them.
Always ruining everything I work so hard for! No! He can't take this from me! Even thinking of him was getting Shizuo worked up. He could feel his brow twitch, his hand clenching…
"Shit…" He muttered as hot coffee ran out of the now-destroyed cup and over his hand. Scowling, he tossed the remains of his beverage into the trash, to join Tom's.
"Ah well," Tom was saying, not noticing his friend's frustration, "maybe it's for the best if you don't run into him for a while. C'mon, we still have to finish up two more houses in the south side…Shizuo?" Turning to look at the blond in question, Tom seemed to notice Shizuo hadn't moved since disposing of his coffee.
"Hey are you…" Tom trailed off when he followed Shizuo's gaze to the other side of the street. "Oh."
Apparently Orihara Izaya was not a man to miss a cue.
"IZAYA!" The usual hatred flowed through his veins, consuming him. Kill. Kill. Kill. The trashcan that had been sitting innocently next to him was flying before Shizuo could even comprehend what his body was doing. The man clad in black across the street was talking on his cell phone, but smirked and neatly sidestepped the projectile, managing to avoid even getting dust on himself when the wall behind him all but exploded with the force of the trashcan.
"I'm afraid I'll have to call you back," Even the his voice made Shizuo's blood boil, "No, it's nothing important, just a minor inconvenience. I'll talk to you in an hour." His grin widened as he snapped his phone shut, shoving it into the depths of his pocket.
"Sorry, Shizu-chan, I have places to be today, but I'll come by tomorrow if you're good." With a mock bow, Orihara Izaya, Shizuo's sworn enemy took off down the empty street. Shizuo took two steps before some part of his brain registered he was supposed to be doing something else.
The Calm! He took a deep breath, filling his lungs, and let it out slowly, simultaneously emptying the anger from his mind. It was harder this time. The hatred wanted back in. No. No anger, no hatred. Nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing. With a second deep breath, he felt his mind slip into to comfort of logic, completely free of all emotion.
Orihara Izaya is a pest. No. A disease. He spreads through this city and causes corruption.
He must be stopped. No. He must be killed. Nothing short of that will stop him.
I can kill him. Yes. I can do it.
Resolute with this thought process, Shizuo took off after Izaya, leaving Tom to shake his head and sigh. Izaya had a good head start on Shizuo and had already ducked down a back alley, but Shizuo followed, with dogged determination. For the first time following Izaya, Shizuo felt his mind completely clear. No longer clouded with thoughts of Kill. Kill. Kill. He was able to keep up, no, gain ground on the usually slippery informant. He marveled at the clarity. Suddenly he could tell which way Izaya intended to turn. The slight glance of his eyes, the angle of his shoulder, the placement of his feet. Shizuo had at first wondered if Izaya was being intentionally obvious, leading him into a trap, but then realized that these telltale signs had always been there, he had just never had the clarity of thought to notice them before.
Izaya glanced behind him, and Shizuo noticed the frown when he saw how closely the bodyguard was keeping up with him. Izaya made a hairpin turn, having to push off the wall of a building to keep his momentum and Shizuo followed suit, chasing the other towards the open. Vaulting effortlessly over a chain link fence, Izaya landed lightly next to the railway line, barely losing any speed. This was the moment Shizuo had been waiting for. Until now, the narrow alleys and tight corners hadn't let him throw anything, but in the open was where he excelled.
He leapt over the fence as well, though not as smoothly as Izaya and stopped to rip the top crossbeam of the fence off. It was as easy as opening the perforated top of a candy bar. Izaya turned around at the horrible screeching sound it made and noticed the bodyguards choice of weapon. He smirked, though through The Calm, Shizuo noted he was breathing heavily. Izaya spoke, no doubt saying some belittling and infuriating remark, but Shizuo found The Calm filtered it out.
Nothing he says matters.
Nothing he says can change anything.
This is truth.
This is what you need to do.
Shizuo lunged, his makeshift bat cocking back for a swing. Izaya tensed, prepared to spring away.
And Shizuo saw everything.
Izaya's glance left. The angle of his torso. How his weight leaned more heavily on his back right leg.
Shizuo swung.
Izaya leapt.
The pole connected.
In what seemed to be slow motion, Shizuo watched Izaya's face contort to surprise as the steel pole hit him in the chest. Several somethings cracked. The pole was not one of them. Izaya's body flew a good distance before tumbling parallel to the railway and landing in a heap.
A low whistle from afar announced a train approaching. Deep in The Calm, Shizuo's mind catalogued this noise and focused back to the task at hand. A groan emanated from the figure lying next to the tracks. Shizuo walked over, calmly. Izaya was slowly untangling himself, and trying with mixed success to prop himself up, while supporting his clearly broken ribs. His body shuddered for a moment before he convulsed and was noisily sick in a very red puddle by his side.
The train whistle sounded again, the warning bells from the street carrying over to the two men. The ground trembled slightly.
Izaya looked up as Shizuo approached. Despite his shakiness and the blood still coloring his chin, the informant smirked. He said something in a confident, arrogant tone. The Calm filtered this out though. Through The Calm, Shizuo could see only the truth. He could see the sickly pallor of Izaya's face. The way his eyes darted, nervously. The trembling in his hands.
He doesn't regret.
There's not a thing he's done that he's sorry for.
If given the chance, he would still do all those things to you.
He should know regret.
He should know the pain and loss you went through because of him.
You can do this. This isn't revenge. This is justice.
Not anger. Not hatred.Justice.
Shizuo dropped the pole. It clattered loudly against the railway tracks and Izaya flinched slightly at the noise. The informant watched Shizuo, nervously.
The whistle came again, much closer this time. The ground shook and the train whizzed by on the adjacent set of tracks. The sound drowned out everything else for a moment, the flashes of light between the cars illuminating the two men in brief glimpses. Then it was gone and it was just Shizuo and Izaya again.
Justice. For the scar he gave you the first day you met.
Shizuo moved forward and seized Izaya by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up. The dark-haired man hissed in pain, one hand clutching his ribs, the other delving into his jacket pocket. Already knowing what the hand was going to contain, Shizuo grabbed Izaya's arm, bending it the wrong way until he heard the snap. Izaya made a choked sound, his face draining of color.
Justice. For having you run over by a truck. Twice.
Shizuo grabbed Izaya's other arm and for the first time, possibly ever, Izaya's face showed real panic. He opened his mouth, no doubt to spout more useless words, but Shizuo wasn't listening. Another sharp snap signaled the breaking of Izaya's other arm. This time he screamed. Sharp and loud, it was cut off when Shizuo abruptly dropped him back to the ground.
Justice. For sending those gangs after you.
Breathing in shaky gasps, Izaya looked up at Shizuo, trying to keep the fear off his face. It didn't matter. He couldn't hide from The Calm. Izaya was speaking again. His voice raspy against the pain, and a vague undertone of pleading. Shizuo knelt next to him and put his hand on Izaya's collarbone. This time he felt the snap, rather than hearing it. Izaya let out a keening sound, too breathless to scream.
Justice. For making you lose the job Kasuka approved of. That deserves something special.
He doesn't care how hard you work to see the approval in Kasuka's eyes.
He doesn't deserve to see it.
He doesn't deserve to see anything.
Shizuo grabbed the sides of Izaya's head and placed his thumbs over his eyes, preparing to press down.
Underneath him, Izaya lost it. His voice went shrill with panic and desperation, trying to pull his head out of Shizuo's grasp.
A necessary violence for the goal of justice.
Wait…
His thumbs froze just as he'd started applying pressure. Izaya had gone very still, only the wildly beating pulse under his hands telling Shizuo he was still alive and conscious.
That's not right. I hate violence. I know I do.
Shizuo frowned. While in The Calm, he knew he hated things, like violence and Izaya, but he didn't actually feel the hatred.
If I kill him, I've given in to the violence.
He was at a crossroad. He could feel it. This was the point in his life where he had to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life. If he killed Izaya here and now, he was acknowledging his hatred of Izaya forever trumping his hatred of violence. He would be a monster, truly, in his own eyes. On the other hand, if he let Izaya live, he was acknowledging his need to change, his need to surpass his own violence and his strength to do so.
What do I hate more? Violence, or Izaya?
Shizuo knew this was the decision that would determine the rest of his life. He also knew this wasn't a decision he could make in The Calm. With a deep breath, he released The Calm, emotion suddenly crashing back down on him. Anger from the chase, exhilaration at catching Izaya, satisfaction at making him hurt and surprisingly, a bit of guilt from his own cruelty. He looked down at Izaya who was breathing in short rapid breaths, shaking in pain, shock and quite possibly, fear. Shizuo tried to dissect what he felt. It was a lot at once. Can I do it? Can I kill him? He tightened his grip and Izaya let out a sound that could have been a whimper.
No. If I killed him, I would hate myself more than I hate him now. It was a strange feeling, being simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Shizuo reflected on this as he dropped his hands to his sides. Izaya let out a shaky breath of relief, cracking one eye open just enough to see Shizuo.
"I can't kill you," Shizuo told him flatly, "but stay the hell out of Ikebukuro." Shizuo straightened up and dusted off his knees, reaching for his cigarettes as he strode away.
"Shi-" A choked cough interrupted the faint voice. Shizuo glanced back in irritation.
"Don't make me change my mind." They were empty words; Shizuo had already given up the best opportunity he was likely to ever get. When he made a decision he stuck with it. He didn't have a middle ground.
"I-if you leave me here," Izaya coughed painfully, "then you have killed me-" Shizuo glared at the informant, watching him gasp for breath, noting how his eyes rolled back from the pain until he forced himself back into consciousness.
"Tch." Shizuo growled, pulling out his phone. He debated whether to call Celty or Shinra, deciding on the former. She would ask less questions. After calling the dullahan, Shizuo glanced again at Izaya. Despite the tremendous pain, he was smirking. Unbelievable. How many bones do I have to break until he'll take me seriously?! Despite his earlier vow, he could feel his fist clenching. Something flickered in Izaya's eyes. Perhaps he still had some trace of The Calm left in him, or perhaps he'd simply never been this close to Izaya without actively trying to kill him before and never noticed it, but Shizuo recognized the moment of fear in the other's eyes. He wasn't sure why he felt a little disappointed by that. The knowledge that all along, Izaya might have actually been scared of him.
"I guess th-this means I win, Shizu-chan," Izaya rasped, still smirking.
"Shouldn't you be unconscious?" Shizuo ground out in reply, teeth clenched.
"If you don't hear me suffering," Izaya replied, his voice growing faint, "you might forget to feel guilty and leave me to die."
Shizuo frowned. Was Izaya afraid of dying alone? It seemed so…human. He was saved from thinking further about this as a horse's whinny announced the arrival of his friend, Celty.
Leaping the broken fence on her bike, Celty skidded to a stop in front of Shizuo. She glanced from him to Izaya's broken form on the ground and back again. It figures. Now he passes out. Taking out her phone her smoky fingers flew along the keys, tapping out a message. Shizuo held up his hands.
"I know, I know. But I really don't want to talk about it tonight, okay?" Celty hesitated a moment then nodded once and tapped out a shorter message.
Do you want to come with? Shizuo sighed.
"Honestly, I can't think of anything I'd like to do less."
So…?
"Yeah. I'm coming."
A/N: Eh. It's 3am and I have to be up at 6am. What the hell. That seems like a place to end.