Yes, I know what you're thinking. "Ehhhh?!/!?11! Author, you're actually going to continue this?! Whyyyy?!"

Truth is, I have no answer for that.

Also I ran out of chapter title ideas, so I'm just gonna call them by their numbers 'cause I'm a boring person like that.

Izaya sat silently next to Shinra, watching Shizuo pant in the emptiness of the school's field. Limp, inert bodies lay around him, twisted at awkward angles—Izaya couldn't imagine any of them moving again. The blond straightened, and the sun flashed across the maniacal grin that twisted those devilish lips. Izaya ran his finger over the smooth of the blade in his pocket, reminding himself again and again that he was armed now, he was better trained now, he could protect himself as well as deal some of his own damage now.

"I'm Orihara Izaya. Nice to meet you!"

"…Heiwajima Shizuo."

"What a name! I think I'm going to call you Shizu-chan."

Izaya remembered the immediate growl of displeasure that had echoed from the blond's throat when that nickname had left his own. Now, watching Shizuo standing alone in the field, drowning in the pleasure of his own strength, Izaya felt his own slightly-maniacal smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

"Does this make you happy, Izaya?" Izaya glanced over, having almost forgotten that Shinra had been next to him. The brunet was grinning back at him, brown eyes wide and innocent.

Izaya allowed the pressure around his mouth to fade, collapsing his almost-smile. "Yes," he answered slowly, deliberately, keeping his voice as neutral as his face. "I suppose it does."

Shinra kept that innocent grin on his own face. "Why don't you say hello, then?" Shinra didn't exactly know the whole story—of course, what kind of information broker gave out information for free? The brunet was aware, however, that Izaya had some 'unpleasant history' with Shizuo, and would he throw the raven a curiously strange glance every time the 'strongest man of Ikebukuro' was mentioned. "I'm sure he'd be glad to have a chat, ne?"

Izaya stared blankly at Shinra for a moment, before dropping his chin and letting out a huff of air that couldn't have been described as a laugh any more than it could a forceful exhale. "Yeah," he said, his voice soft. "I should say hello, shouldn't I. After all, it's only common manners."

"I'm Orihara Izaya. Nice to meet you!"

He tightened his hand on the grip of his blade, locking his knees and moving himself forward, towards the monster. A tingling reminder of pain ran through his hips, encircling his wrists. He grit his teeth against it, pushing away memories. The blond was facing away from him, catching his breath still after the rush of the fight. Izaya licked his lips as he approached, working his throat slightly to ensure that his words would come out clear and smooth.

Too close. Stop now. Izaya stopped suddenly—close enough to the monster, but not so close that a single step and a swing of the fist could possibly connect with his own body.

"I think I'm going to call you Shizu-chan."

"Oi," he called out, loud enough to get Shizuo's attention but soft enough that it exerted confidence he wasn't quite sure he even had. "Oi, Shizu-chan." The blond turned his head, slowly. Izaya could feel his heart beating faster, the blood pounding through his head. He gripped the blade in his pocket until he could feel the edge of the hilt digging into his own skin.

The moment the blond locked eyes with him, the grin across his face only widened. "You!" Shizuo called out, a terrifying rage heightening the single syllable. Already the movement was clear, and as the monster lunged forward, Izaya was already prepared. Forcing his almost-numb limbs to respond, he whipped his hand out of his pocket, the glint of the metallic blade catching the sun. Stepping slightly to the side to avoid the fist that was swinging at him with too much power, Izaya unthinkingly swung his own hand up, swiping the blade through the air, and then something that met more resistance than air.

As he completed the motion, an arc of crimson seemed to hang in the sky, the sun glimmering off its redness. The blood caught on the blade, shining. The monster had stopped moving, was now standing with a hand over his chest—over his torn shirt and the trickle of blood from the slashed line that wept across his skin.

A sudden burst of confidence tingled through Izaya's veins, and he felt a grin of pleasure pull at his lips as he held up the blood-slicked blade like a trophy, pointing it at the frozen monster. He couldn't decipher the expression on the blond's face—was it pain? Anger? Confusion?

Shizuo smiled. "Hello, Izaya-kun," he spat out the honorific. "What a nice greeting—and it's been so long since we've seen each other. You're not going to give me a kiss?"

Rage boiled beneath the surface of Izaya's skin, but he kept his face composed. "I wouldn't want to touch your dirty lips, Shizu-chan," he answered, the iciness of his own voice masking the anger. "Who knows where they've been—for a stupid dog like you, most likely eating out of the neighbor's garbage, perhaps?"

"Oh?" Shizuo let out an unnerving chuckle. "Are you calling yourself garbage, Izaya? Even I didn't go so low as to call you names—it was just I-za-ya." He hissed out the name, drawing out the syllables like frozen blades spat out with the intention of sinking into the raven's heart—the pain from the poisoned tips hurting even more so than the words that the monster had uttered before the three half-whispered syllables. For a moment Izaya couldn't breathe—then a stuttering exhale whooshed out of his lungs in what could almost be pulled off as a laugh, if he said the right thing next.

Unfortunately, he did not say the right thing next. Instead, he felt the familiar pressure around his mouth indicating that another smile had slipped past his defenses, fixating itself on his face. He held the blade up, the blood sparkling in the sun in his peripheral vision. The next exhale came out just as uneven as the last—only this time it couldn't be described as anything other than a laugh. The muscles of his arm took over, and his mind blanked out for a moment.

"You bastard!" The words, filled with so much rage and terrific power, shocked Izaya back into reality. The comforting weight of the knife was no longer in his hand, and his eyes immediately focused on a splotch of crimson in front of him—spreading across the shoulder of Shizuo's white shirt. It took him a moment to realize that he'd caused that escape of blood, that that was his knife's hilt sticking out of the monster's skin, that he was now empty-handed before the now incredibly angry Heiwajima Shizuo. The blond was panting with rage, his brown eyes glowing with fire, his fists clenched into condensed outlines of fury.

Izaya drew in a breath, inwardly cursing himself for losing himself and his composure for that half-second it took to move the situation from bad to worse. Shizuo slowly reached his right arm across his chest to grip the hilt of the blade in his shoulder. Izaya watched with a frozen sort of horrified fascination as the blond deliberately pulled the blade from his skin. The redness spread faster down the white of his shirt, the metal of the knife slick and shining with blood. Izaya fixated his eyes on the sharp red blade, watching the way the color slid down the side to form little drops at the tip, which then fell to the ground where the hungry earth sucked it up, swallowing the thick metallic liquid without complaint.

"I-za-ya-kun," Shizuo growled dangerously, an angry smile still slashed across his face. Finally he let the maniacally twisted lips drop into a more believable expression, one that matched with the glow in his eyes to show his animalistic rage for what it truly was. Izaya found himself unable to back away, unable to separate himself from this terrifyingly fascinating display of pure ferocious violence.

Suddenly he jumped at the feel of a hand on his arm. Though unwilling to take his eyes off the blond, who was boiling in his own frenzy, Izaya slid his gaze to the side to pick up Shinra's brown hair. "Now, now," Shinra said lightly, tugging at Izaya's sleeve. "I don't believe we've met—you're Heiwajima Shizuo, correct?" He directed his question innocently, fearlessly, as if he wasn't talking to the most feared man in Ikebukuro.

Shizuo's lips twitched, as if they weren't sure whether to frown or smile. "Who are you?" he asked gruffly, as if not even expecting an answer.

Shinra—being Shinra, of course—did answer. "I'm Kishitani Shinra—you can call me Shinra." His tone was conversational, as if he either didn't understand or didn't care about the weight of the situation he'd just interrupted. "You're in our grade, aren't you? You're quite well-known." He laughed a bit, his laugh sounding neither forced nor awkward. Izaya found himself flicking his eyes from Shinra to Shizuo, struggling to predict the blond's reactions before he said anything.

Shizuo hesitated for a moment, but when Izaya made the mistake of meeting his gaze, the anger returned to the brown eyes. "Get," Shizuo growled, "out of the way." He was still glaring at Izaya as he spoke, but they all knew he was talking to Shinra.

Shinra, for his part, let out another laugh. "Oh, Shizuo—can I call you Shizuo?—here's the thing. Y'see, Izaya's kind of become what I'd like to consider a friend. So, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't kill him right now, ok? At least wait until after high school, because I probably won't need his friendship then. Get it?" Izaya felt the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes at his 'friend's' weird words, but found himself unable to break his gaze with the blond.

Shizuo was the one to finally break their gaze, if only to stare at Shinra. Izaya wondered what he was thinking about—Is he surprised because Shinra talked back to him? Is he unused to being addressed as a normal human? Is he going to go after Shinra now?

Finally the monster spoke, drawing his words out slowly and deliberately, grating each syllable across the back of his throat before throwing it into the tense air between them. "Is that what you want, then? You want the flea alive?" A terrifying light made his brown eyes glow almost as red as the blood across his shirt. He lifted his hand in a threatening motion and Izaya fought the urge to flinch as the blood-soaked blade was tossed onto the ground before the raven's feet. "Fine, then. I don't have to kill him to send him to hell." Izaya felt a shiver run up his spine.

Shizuo slipped his tongue out to lick at his lip—a motion so quick that no one but the ever-so-observant Orihara Izaya would catch. The monster twisted his lips into that horrifying grin once more. "I can just bring hell to you, Izaya."

Another tingle ran up Izaya's spine, but he found it wasn't fear—it wasn't fear at all. It was excitement, it was apprehension, it was anxiety, it was a thrilling burst of adrenaline that made the blood in his veins boil. He let his own smile pull at his mouth. "Well, Shizu-chan," Izaya spoke, his voice calm and his response smooth, "No one's telling me not to kill you."

Shizuo let out a laugh, each explosion of breath impossibly loud from his monstrous lungs. "As if a flea like you could kill me."

"Because you're a monster?"

The blond's eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that," he rumbled, deep in his chest. "Unless you want to die before graduation."

Izaya bent down to pick up the knife that Shizuo had tossed at his feet, lifting it and inspecting the way the shiny blood clung to the green of the grass blades beneath. He straightened, lifting the red-coated blade like a prize. "But you are a monster, Shizu-chan," he murmured softly, tilting the blade to catch on the light of the sun. He tore his eyes from the crimson to meet Shizuo's angry gaze.

"We'll just have to see who kills who first, then."

*lifts hands off keyboard* "What the fuck am I writing?"

*stares at wall* "Why the fuck am I writing this?"

*looks back at laptop screen* "Where the fuck am I going to go with this?"

*contemplates life choices*