It's just another typical day; serve up the drinks people ordered, wipe the tables and counters, and kicking out all the drunks who made scenes. It may seem annoying, and sometimes it is, but I always feel at ease with this feeling of order. I like the feeling of actually having a purpose that doesn't have to do with this insane strength of mine.

Now it's around the time where customers start to slow… In just a few minutes I'm going to have to throw all these drunkards out into the street. 'Maybe today I won't have to use force… They all seem calm enough, or at least drunk enough, to not really put up a fight.' I think to myself, contentedly.

My watch goes off as I once again wiped the counter. 'Alright, it's time to close up.' I, in turn, get out from behind the bar and over to where the few people who still were are sitting. "Alright, folks, you know the drill; 12:00 is closing time, which means you guys can either get out on your own or I'll have to kick your sorry ass!" Of course, when I say that it's only to get them moving and not because I'm pissed off.

I watch and hear their grumbles as they started to unsteadily get up from their spots. One fell over a chair as he attempted to take himself out. He's just lucky I'm in a good mood today as I helped him back up onto his feet. I'm not a bad guy; my temper just gets the best of me sometimes.

I can hear some sirens coming from the main streets. They seemed to be getting louder, but it's nothing new. They are probably just going through their 'sweep' as I like to call it.

After the bleary-eyed, unsteadied footed guy left, I returned to the bar and started turning over the chairs onto the tables (which I wiped one last time for good measure). I then started to do a bit of my own sweeping. It's not like all this is really necessary but I like it when my boss praises me. You can call me an idiot all you want, or… as Izaya would say; proto-something.

The sirens outside continued to grow louder and it seemed to be heading in my direction. "Dammit… how can I have any peace and quiet with all these fucking sirens blaring?" I growl to myself.

The objects of the noise seem to have stopped right in front of my restaurant.

'This is getting weird…' I thought to myself, slightly nervous. 'They don't usually stop…What's going on?' I slowly walked over to the door, peering out to see a bunch of police cars as well as motorcycles.

Suddenly, I hear my name blare out from a microphone of some sort. "Heiwajima-san! Get out of here with your hands up! We have you surrounded, there's no way out. If you do this quietly, your charges may be less severe."

I stopped and my blood ran cold. 'What? What do they want with me? I haven't done anything! I haven't even lost my temper with anyone. So why…?'

"E-excuse me?" I stutter, although I bet they think that I am growling at them, considering the way they glare at me. "Why do I have to come with you? I haven't done anything!"

"Bull shit!" one of the younger looking deputies screams, quickly hushed by some of the older men. "We've heard of you and your reputation; now your crazy strength has finally grown to be too much," the man who seemed to be in charge states.

I stare at the man who spoke out. He has a cold look on his face, which isn't surprising; he is a cop, after all. He wore a helmet, so he must have been one of the cops that came on a motorcycle. "What are you talking about…? I just said I haven't done anything, didn't I?" I feel as if they were trapping me. For what, I don't know…

"Do you know of this man?" The main guy asked, showing me a picture of what seems to be a politician. At least I think he is a politician; he sure is dressed up as one. "He is a regular at your bar. Just last week he was reported as missing. Yesterday, he was found in an alley-way, next to your bar." Noticing my bewildered look, he continued. "When we found him, however, he was dead."

My eyes widen. 'Dead? He's dead? Why does this have to do with me; just because he was a regular here? But I'm not the only worker here… I'm not even the boss of this place.'

I clear my throat and say my thoughts out-loud. "What does his death have to do with me? How did he die, anyway? Drug overdose?"

"The man was apparently killed with the blows of someone's fists. Now, who here has a reputation of beating the shit out of people when angered? Of course, we wouldn't come here to you with nothing but a hunch." The man stares at me, watching me process it all. 'Probably hoping to get a reaction out of me… But I'm innocent. I don't need to worry… So why am I?'

"Then why are you here? You said you wouldn't come here with just a guess." I retort.

"Hm… You may not be as stupid as people say you are, Heiwajima-san. Oh well, you forced it out of me… The reason we are here is because when we took DNA samples and prints of the fists, you came up."

My eyes widen once again as I try to get my voice to come out. "…M-me…? Why did I come up when you did that?"

"Quit acting ignorant!" the same kid from before shrieks. "Tomo! Remember where you stand," The main cop scolds. He turns back to me and with a blank face with no emotion, says, "Heiwajima-san, you are under arrest for the murder of –"

By then I don't really pay attention to what he was saying. I am too busy trying to make sense of it all. As he cites my rights to me, my mind is whirling, struggling to find the answer that didn't seem to exist.

When they start to cuff me, I come back to my senses and scream, "Wait!"

"What? You have thirty seconds to say what you want." Mr. Police-officer says.

"I know of someone who can clear my name! Please!" I practically beg.

"Alright, who is it?" He replies, sounding rather bored.

"His name is Orihara, Izaya. I'm sure if you ask him, you can clear all this up!" I start to feel a little rise of hope in my chest. Izaya would always keep me from getting in trouble, I'm sure he can show them that this is all a misunderstanding.

But my hope starts to dwindle as the cop starts to laugh. "Orihara-san? You think he will get you out of this when he, himself, was the one who helped us find you."

'What… It's a lie. Izaya would never do that. He isn't like that, despite his work and reputation. He wouldn't do this to a friend.' Those words stung… so much more than you could ever imagine. I feel numb, thinking that this can be true. No… it's not it can be true… it is true. The man's hard, cold face just says it all.

The reason I am going to prison is because if a certain informant I thought to be my friend, known as Orihara Izaya.

-{ In Shinjuku; Orihara Izaya's house.}-

I am reading the conversation on the screen of my laptop. Right now it's talking about how apparently a swarm of police cars all crowded around a certain restaurant in Ikebukuro and arrested the insane man with gorilla strength.

Bakyura – "Yeah! It was insane! I was ….doing something at the time so I just so happened to be out. Then that happened!"

Setton – "I was in the middle of another job that day. Do you know why that happened?"

Bakyura – "No clue. But it WAS Heiwajima, Shizuo they were arresting, so…"

Setton – "What? What did he do?"

Bakyura – "Apparently he beat this guy to death."

Setton – "No way… Is that true?"

Kanra – "…How bad was it…?

Bakyura – "He was completely flipping his shit, you know? He was all 'I DIDN'T DO IT!' and 'I'M INNOCENT!' It was really annoying you know?"

With that, I can't handle it anymore and sign out.

"SHIT!" I flung my laptop across the room, smashing against the opposite wall. "It isn't my fault… It happens all the time, nothing new. It's just Shizu-chan."

Those words sting the most.

"Just Shizu-chan."