Chapter I: Doubt
Shizuo walked along Ikebukuro lost in thought. He didn't know how long it had been since he started dwindling down the busy roads and crowded spots the vibrant city had to offer; colors hazed before his eyes and the people faceless as he walked past. He looked up at the sky and a shroud of ominous clouds blanketed the stars.
What a shitty night this is.
Shizuo turned and saw Simon busy enticing customers to come inside Russia Sushi. He took a long drag out of his cigarette and threw it on the ground. His mood calls in for a drink. One that can knock him out cold in one shot. Shizuo chuckled humorlessly and turned around. Drinking in the workplace has never felt more inviting to him.
Shizuo went up a bridge and stopped to observe the busy city lights. Traffic is horrible as usual. If only he could punch Izaya in the face to alleviate this mood.
Izaya.
Why in the heck did that eskimo wannabe's face had to flash in his mind right now?
"Izaya, huh? Stupid asshat." Shizuo muttered.
He continued walking and felt the need to scream. This mood is driving him on edge he considered lifting the post holding the traffic lights just so he could smash something on his head to get out of this stupidity.
Shizuo grinded his teeth and continued walking. The air is cold. It seeped through his skin and further clouded his thoughts. He stopped in front of the pub's front door. Sure he works here, but tonight he's going to be the unusual patron.
Shizuo walked in and inhaled the second hand smoke and the tang of human interactions hanging all over the place. He breathed it out in disgust and made a beeline for the bar. This is going to be a long night.
"Oi Shizu-chan! I thought your shift already ended? What brings you back here?" called the bartender when he sat on one of the stools.
Did this person just called him Shizu-chan? There's only ever one person who calls him that.
Fuck.
"Shizu… chan?" it came out of his mouth out of nowhere.
"Huh? Who calls you that? That's ridiculous. I said Shizuo-san. Are you alright?" the bartender said, amused.
"Forget it. I heard you wrong and I need a drink." For crap's sake. He's not even drunk yet and he's hallucinating like an idiot.
"What will you be having, then?"
"Whiskey sour. Make that double."
"A double whiskey sour? If I didn't know you any better I would have assumed you're having problems with your wife."
"Would you just shut up and give me my damn drink."
"Hai hai."
Shizuo heard the tinkle of the glass being set down on the counter. He took the glass in his hands and consumed its contents in one swig.
The bold, strong taste lingered on his mouth, the lemon and sugar notes adding texture on his tongue. Shizuo popped the cherry on his mouth. He played idly with it, the stem dangling out.
The drink was perfect.
"Give me another one."
"Coming right up! Shizuo-san!"
He wished the bartender would stop doing that. They sound irritatingly similar.
The drink was laid before him once again. He took a mouthful of it and motioned for another glass. He finished the second one when the third glass came. Shizuo emptied the glass and went for a fourth one. The 5th glass slammed hard on the counter. Shizuo dumped his money on the coaster and left without a word.
It didn't really do anything.
The sudden change in his vision made him realize that this was a bad idea.
Shizuo left the dark, loud pub.
Snow.
Shizuo watched the flakes fall and melt on his arm. Going home is already promising to be a drag.
The blocks are now completely deserted. Shizuo lit up a cigarette and leaned against one of the light posts. His head and eyes are slowly trying to betray him.
He was about to take a draw when an unmistakable fire of gunshots echoed in the wells of the night's silence.
Shizuo dropped his cigarette, his inebriated state replaced by a sudden sense of vigilance around him. He knew he didn't have to do anything, but he tried to place where the position of the rounds came from. Shizuo went with his instincts and ran over to check it out.
Shizuo turned in a corner and found an old, dilapidated warehouse on the side of a murky watered power plant. The abandon the place held was imminent. Were the shots came from the bored handiwork of some vandals and low lives? The place looked deserted.
Shizuo approached the broken doors. He pushed them aside and the warehouse lay barren and empty. The holes on the roof provided enough for him to see that there's really nothing there. He crossed the warehouse floor and exited on the other end.
A dirt road loomed in his wake leading to the plant. Crates and barrels littered all over the place. A heap of the wrecked mess can be seen from a distance.
Something caught Shizuo's eye advancing toward the rubble. Shizuo stopped dead in his tracks at the sight plainly laid out before him.
On top of the heap was a bleeding Izaya Orihara.
Izaya Orihara.
Izaya's eyes were closed. No movement. Signs that Izaya knew he was just standing there were none.
Shizuo had never seen this bastard let his guard down on him. Never.
"Oi." Shizuo called out. "I-za-ya-kun."
Izaya's head slowly turned.
"Oyasumi nasai… Shizu-chan." Izaya said. His voice sounded hollow. There was blood dripping on the side of his head. His left eye was bruised so badly it had shut closed.
Shizuo moved in closer. He stood a few feet away from Izaya's almost lifeless body.
"What pathetic situation is this?" Shizuo taunted Izaya.
"Huh. Isn't this great Shizu-chan?" Izaya's breath hitched. "Are you going to kill me now? This might just be your chance. Your only chance." Izaya flicked his knife.
"That's a lot of big talk you shithead. Why not I just kill you so you can shut the hell up!" Shizuo spat.
Izaya made a weak, mocking smile. Shizuo braced himself but Izaya's hand dropped, his knife falling on the ground with a clank. His head hung limp and bloody on the side.
Shizuo has never felt this enraged with Izaya for as long as he could remember.
"Oi kora! Don't act all dying on me!" Shizuo kicked the wooden splinters and they landed wanly at Izaya's feet.
Could it be? Could it really be?
Shizuo moved toward the stillness. He reached over and tilted Izaya's face and saw that his head is suffering from a concussion. He shifted Izaya's jacket. Shizuo now knew where the gunshots landed. Blood covered his hands and Izaya's open wounds dripped steadily, landing on the snow in crimson puddles. There were stab wounds on his arms and thighs.
"Oi! Kono yaro! Say something you idiot! IZAYA!" Shizuo shook Izaya's dead weight. "Temae!"
Shizuo held Izaya, still disbelieving of how this night had turned out. He looked at Izaya once more, a loathing spreading through him like white hot pins and needles coursing slowly through his veins.
Shizuo screamed at the dark, cold void and carried Izaya out onto the night.