chapter six: and the lottery winner is...

may 1, 12:17 a.m.

They had lost track of how much time they spent there.

Shizuo was just kneeling on the ground, holding Kasuka's limp body in his arms. For what seemed like hours, Shizuo's body was wracked with silent sobs. They'd long died off and he was just very still, holding the cold body close to him, a distant vacant expression on his face. Namie stood a bit away silently, holding herself with her head bowed. She regained control of herself much sooner than Shizuo did; her arms were still across her body, cupping her elbows, but she looked up, eyes focused away from the Heiwajima siblings. Hachi was even quiet; he sensed his owner's sadness and reacted to it. He laid down by the woman's feet, ears flat and tail still, for once.

Izaya was entirely fine. The gun was pocketed, safety on, and he strolled around the area. He had made some little remarks at first but with Namie not reacting to him, he soon grew bored of doing so. There was really very little to do; it was starting to grow cold and Shizuo was in no state of mind to move. Izaya decided to not push his luck by approaching him; on one hand, Shizuo could still be too torn to do anything. But on the other hand, Shizuo had yet another reason to absolutely want to kill Izaya.

Coming back from yet another trip around the block, Izaya finally murmured to the woman that he was going to drive the RV over. He explained that at least the two of them and the dog could have shelter without rushing Shizuo, but she didn't seem to hear him, gave a robotic nod.

Probably after years of dealing with him, she learned how to recognize his voice but not have to listen to it and just nod.

Izaya was calm as he walked away. His shoes clicked against the pavement, heels occasionally scuffing from his fatigue. But once he was decently away, his pace quickened without reaching a running speed. His heart was pounding, the sound nearly deafening, but he kept his expression as neutral as he could. The rising nausea was ignored, pushed away and to be dealt with later. Orihara Izaya had, from a young age, learned to disguise emotion in public, even if there was no one else to see him. Any trace of feeling on his face that was calculated left him feeling vulnerable and unsettled.

He was only all too relieved to see the vehicle. He jogged the last stretch of distance to it and shaking hands fumbled with the key for a bit, unlocking the door. He nearly bounded up the steps and slammed the door shut, finally allowing panic to flicker in his eyes. Izaya made sure to lock the door first and hissed swears under his breath as he searched for the first-aid kit, digging through bags and cupboards. He made a ruckus and left a mess, too anxious to care. The pain in his arm had dulled by now, after hours and the handkerchief he tied onto it, but it had never once slipped his mind. He finally found the small in Namie's bag and was shaking as he sat down in the booth, rolling his sleeve up carefully. The blood stained white piece of cloth was taken off and he was left staring at the exposed injury on his arm.

He'd been bit.

A zombie had crept up on him while he was dealing with two others; the bite wasn't very deep and Izaya had stabbed it before it could rip the flesh off, but it was still a bite, red and swollen. Years of training and running from Shizuo led to a high pain tolerance and in the midst of everything, it seemed Shizuo and Namie hadn't sensed anything. Obviously Hachi didn't; even if he did, it wasn't as if he could tell anyone. The dog had busied himself by biting at pant legs, growling and headbutting the back of zombie knees.

He had used a handkerchief to bandage and stop the bleeding while they were in the city. The reason for the first waltz around the city, as he called it, was for that specific reason. He strolled off because he knew it would be too suspicious to just insist they leave immediately. Even if he told them why, there was the chance that Namie would care but Shizuo surely wouldn't.

And he didn't want them to know.

He found a convenience store and went inside, found a bottle of antiseptic. The entire thing was dumped on his wound and he cleaned it as best he could before wrapping the handkerchief on tightly. He took a total of about ten minutes for the entire ordeal, most of which was spent trying to calm himself. Izaya remembered leaning against the shelf and staring at the ceiling, mind racing. He wondered if the sensitivity was normal, if his heart racing was from infection or stress, or if everything he was focusing on was entirely normal, but he was blowing it out of proportion.

He couldn't go back so he decided to wait it out and once enough time had passed, he made up the excuse to head back.

Izaya's heart was pounding. He used a bottle of cheap vodka they had picked up to clean the wound again, wincing and swearing loudly. At least it was his left arm, he thought as he applied gauze and began bandaging it tightly. He stared at the white and used his other hand to run his fingers over it, swallowing thickly.

He'd been bit.

Taking a moment once he was finished to close his eyes, Izaya leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees and his hands grasped at his hair; it took everything for him to keep calm, to not scream. He was rocking slightly in his seat, feeling his breathing grow labored. He wasn't used to not being able to control his emotions and was still rational enough to know a dent in the RV would be slightly difficult to explain to Namie later. But save the single thought, he could only think of four words set on a loop, replaying in his mind:

He'd been bit.

He'd been bit, he'd been bit, he'd been bit.

He'd been bit.

I was fucking bit.

I can't die.

I can't die, I can't die, I can't die—

-I can't turn into one of them, I can't turn into one of them, I can't turn into one of them.

The thought of death decaying his porcelain features made Izaya almost keel over. He felt nauseous at the very thought of it, imagining one of them shooting him or just leaving him for dead in that infested city. He couldn't stop shaking; even his teeth were chattering. His heart was racing and his throat was growing dry, but he couldn't steady his breathing enough to take a sip of water. His body was growing warm and he hoped it wasn't infection; his mind was spinning, eyes finding it hard to focus on anything, even the pattern on the floor.

For the first time in a long while, Orihara Izaya was very scared and unable to suppress it all.

He'd held it together until he was alone, but he wasn't sure if he could put his mask up when he returned to them. Shizuo was in shock; he wouldn't even notice if Izaya was walking around with an axe in his head, but Namie was perceptive. She'd pick up on it immediately. They can't know, he thought, finally taking a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, if even only a little bit, enough to swallow and think more than four words.

They can't know…

Shit… shit, what do I do? Shit, shit shit…

The injured arm straightened, fingers letting go of his hair, and he stared at it again. The white bandages looked like the white flowers that were left on coffins. But he wouldn't even have a coffin, he thought, and he almost laughed at the thought, a hysterical, crazed, hollow laugh. He'd have nothing except zombies eating away at his flesh, turning him into one of them.

Izaya had been feeling like he'd lost control, but this was more than control. This was his life, this was him not being a monster.

Orihara Izaya wasn't a brave person. If anything, he was a coward; he was a coward for not facing his own humanity, his own emotions, admit that, above all, he was incredibly human and just like the rest of them. He was terrified of being alone but used a twisted, convoluted way to connect with them and found himself even more isolated. He acted the way he did from a fear of death and loneliness, and those actions brought only more isolation and people wanting him dead.

Orihara Izaya's cowardice was possibly his most well-kept secret by being a very obvious trait.

I can't die, I don't want to die.

I got bit, I got bit, I got bit…

There has to be some way to fix this. Maybe if I cut my arm off…

No, then they'll know. They can't know.

There's no time for weak links. They wouldn't carry my weight.

His breath stilled.

Maybe I'm immune.

The sudden thought struck him and his eyes flickered open immediately. A sudden peace washed over him and he suddenly felt his lungs expand, taking a proper breath. He was calm all of a sudden. Immune… that's right. Namie did say some people were immune.

Of course. How could I have forgotten that?

The small voice of reason that reminded him immunity was present in only a small minority was more or less ignored because Orihara Izaya's desperation had him accepting a delusion as a reality if it meant he'd stay alive. Izaya stood and cleaned up the area, put the kit back where it had been, sleeve rolled back down. He even took the time to tidy up what he had made messy. Whether or not he was immune, he wasn't going to let them know. They'd jump to conclusions. They'd kill him, say that it was "for the best."

Izaya wouldn't allow that.

He even found himself smiling a little; everything made sense. Hours had passed and now that he had calmed down, all his symptoms had disappeared: rapid breathing, nausea, lightheadedness, feeling feverish. It was true; he had been upset and attributed all that to something more severe than the simple human reaction of being worried and assuming the worst-case scenario.

It makes sense.

He nodded and straightened (after all, slouching was bad for his posture) as he pulled his sleeve back down, headed to the front of the car. Considering both that he made up for the time of being anxious by running to the car and that neither Namie nor Shizuo had an accurate grasp on time at the moment, it was all right to take his time driving back.

I don't have a fever yet, he thought. It's possible. The virus works quickly and if I were infected, I should already be feeling it, even if times vary.

I had been meaning to buy a lottery ticket. I guess this is it, aah?

Orihara Izaya had a special skill of believing his own lies.

After all, if he didn't, who would?

Starting the car, he headed back to where Shizuo and Namie were. The bodyguard was still in the same position but Namie looked up at him. Her brow knit as she stepped in and took the passenger seat. Hachi followed her and immediately went to the back to lay down, whimpering softly before falling silently and curling up on a cot.

Namie regarded him warily; a bit more consciousness seemed to have seeped into her expression and she was becoming closer to the normal, chastising, vile woman he always knew instead of a blank shell. On one hand, it was nice. On the other, it meant that she was Namie again, which was never a pleasant thing for Izaya.

"Hey, Namie-san," he said suddenly, casually. "How long does it take for the fever to claim the life of the victim?"

"Sometimes all night," she said and Izaya kept his smile fixed. "Though usually symptoms begin occurring within the first few hours. Average is two."

"I see…"

"Why the questions?"

"Curious! Simply curious!"

From the passenger window, Izaya caught sight of Shizuo. He clicked his tongue and murmured 'Shizu-chan's still out there like that, hm?' His head tilted and felt strands of his hair tickling his chin, lips in a mocking frown. "Idiots don't catch cold, but Namie-san, if you'd like to appease his suffering, and thus indirectly your own, you're more than welcome to give him a blanket!"

Izaya gave a calm smile at the fact she was still looking at him. His heartbeat was back to normal, his arm was only slightly sore. He didn't have a fever and thought he couldn't be absolutely sure, he was rather certain he'd just won the lottery. The best kind of lottery: the genetic one.

Life was good again.

"What's the matter, Namie-san?"

She gave him a hard stare.

"…How can you look so all right?"

may 2, 8:43 a.m.

They gave Kasuka a funeral.

Hours had passed before Shizuo even moved a muscle. Namie had walked over; Yagiri Namie wasn't very motherly or soothing of a person, but between her and Orihara Izaya, there was no question about who should be the one to approach Heiwajima Shizuo over his dead brother. Especially when Orihara Izaya had put the bullet through his head.

She approached him quietly and slowly, not wanting to make any sudden movements and scare him. They had taken shifts watching over him; Namie slept first and then Izaya. By the time it was about six, both were up (neither slept very long, especially when the other was around and conscious.) Izaya had said that they would need to get moving and, if not that, Shizuo needed to come back in.

Namie had begrudgingly agreed and after a makeshift breakfast, she was the one sent out to tell him.

"Shizuo," Namie said quietly. "…Should we bury him?"

Shizuo's skin was deathly pale. Had it been anyone else, the cold would have induced hypothermia but this was Shizuo; his clothes had a bit of chill but his body seemed fine. It was several minutes before he responded with a slow nod. Standing stiffly, Namie helped him gently wrap Kasuka's body in a spare bed sheet she brought with her. Shizuo carried his body to the vehicle and Izaya was still facing forward, not even bothering to try to establish eye contact, knew better and even refrained from humming, if only to save his own skin.

If Shizuo didn't hate Izaya entirely before, he most certainly did now.

"Where?" Izaya asked plainly, key in the ignition again.

Silence.

"Where?" Namie repeated with a sigh, Shizuo taking the body towards the back of the vehicle. It was back to the silent treatment, but this time it was understandable and not just Shizuo being childish.

"Somewhere you can fish."

Izaya gave a slow sigh, hands tightening on the wheel as he began driving, having a general idea of where to go. Shizuo was angry, he knew, but he didn't regret his choice and definitely wasn't going to offer an apology when he did nothing wrong. He saved Shizuo's life, something he never thought he'd do. They had to keep moving; staying stationary was suicidal.

Izaya didn't have time for Shizuo's immaturity right now.

If he didn't talk to him, fine. Izaya wasn't bothered by it; if anything, it would be a relief. Namie would communicate for them. Izaya didn't need Shizuo to like him or tolerate him; as long as he moved, then it was fine. As long as he didn't do anything stupid like basically let himself be turned, then it would be fine. As long as he continued to be able to save himself and Izaya (because of a partnership he probably regretted agreeing to,) then it would be fine.

Izaya parked by a riverbank after a while and didn't move, just stared out the dashboard. He heard clamoring and Namie was still as well; Shizuo said nothing as he carried the body outside, taking a shovel with him. Both of them just stared ahead while the heard the door opening, felt and smelled the fresh air that only the countryside could provide.

"Aren't you going to help?" Izaya asked mockingly.

"Why would I?" came the drawling answer.

Izaya smirked.

That's the Namie I know.

Sighing, Izaya rested his chin in his palm and watched Shizuo dig a hole through the side mirror. With his strength, the digging was quick. Shizuo moved robotically and without hesitation as the pile of dirt grew. He hoisted himself out once it was deep enough and lowered the body in, stilling as he stared for a moment. Red eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Shizuo's fists clenching, but they relaxed soon and he was filling in the hole, patting the dirt down.

Shizuo could be relatively efficient sometimes, he noticed dryly. He'd expected more emotion, probably some tears, maybe yelling. But it seemed that he was exhausted; Shizuo hadn't slept last night at all, shown in his bloodshot eyes and bags under them.

Once the grave was filled, Shizuo left the shovel and walked a bit further up the riverbank. Izaya hummed, wondered about where he was going. But before he could find the urge to care enough to tell Namie, Shizuo returned with flowers and knelt, arranging them carefully on the grave. He even found a rock to hold them down and then sat next to them. The note was taken from his pocket and he stared at it, giving a sigh that wracked his whole body.

Izaya scoffed.

"What a waste of time."

"Not everyone is as heartless as you are," Namie murmured and Izaya looked over to see her reading a book.

"Wouldn't it be easier if they were?" he teased.

She looked up.

"I'd rather die before becoming like you."

"How cold…"

"Shizuo lost his brother," Namie continued in a murmur and turned the page, feeling Izaya still looking at her. "He lost a human, but he hasn't lost his humanity."

Blinking and staring, Izaya broke out in a peal of hollow laughter that she'd heard before, always making her frown tiredly. He laughed with his shoulders shaking, one arm across his stomach, holding himself, while the other rested on the wheel. His forehead touched to his arm, coincidentally the arm that had been bit. The injury pressed to the wheel but he hardly reacted to the soreness; if anything, it just made him laugh harder because here he was, healthy, wound healing, feeling nothing out of the ordinary.

Life was excellent.

"Namie-san, you say that like it's a bad thing!"

She ignored him, she was used to it, and crossed her legs.

"Sometimes bravery is admitting you're still human. That, despite everything, despite what you believe and what you want, you're still only just human. Only cowards pretend otherwise."

may 2, 11:48 a.m.

Hours passed before Shizuo climbed back into the RV and slammed the door shut behind him. Neither of the two glanced up or said a word; he just went back to the cots and sat down, hardly reacting when Hachi tentatively licked his hand. His eyes were red from crying and sleep deprivation and he could hardly lift his feet properly as he walked. Shizuo managed to kick his shoes off before he laid down, letting a hand hang off the cot for Hachi to lick.

Kasuka had died and Shizuo wasn't there to be with him.

Kasuka had died and Shizuo was there to watch it happen.

Kasuka had died and Shizuo dug and buried his own little brother.

He stared at the ceiling of the RV, feeling the familiar hum and bumps in the road when Izaya began driving again. It was silent, save the occasional murmurs and sound of a page flipping, but it felt deafening to Shizuo. It was like the silence was closing in on him and suffocating him. It was humid. It was loud. The white noise was so loud that he let out a sudden yelp and hands held his head, like he was in pain-

-and then it passed.

He was breathing heavily and still staring at the ceiling, wondering if it had been his imagination. His heart was racing and he was still, very still, as he tried to process it, assess how likely it was that it had actually happened. No one reacted to it; maybe he'd imagined it? But he was with Izaya and Namie. It would be more odd if they did react to it.

Kasuka had died and Shizuo held him in his arms.

Giving a shaky breath, Shizuo tried to swallow thickly but almost choked; his throat felt dry and he stood, making his way to the kitchen area with hands steadying himself against anything they could grasp. Hachi followed him withs oft whimpers but he hardly noticed; he grabbed a water bottle, shaking hands eventually twisting off the cap. But when he lifted it to his lips, he felt a sudden spasm in his hand and the bottle fell, Hachi narrowly ducking to avoid it. Shizuo didn't even flinch; he just stared at the water on the ground and went back to his bed, forgetting his thirst.

Namie and Izaya didn't even turn around to look at him, not even with the water bottle falling and Hachi's yelp.

Shizuo had never felt more alone.

Until Vorona, he hadn't seen someone he was close to die. Seeing her body made his blood run cold and it felt all very real, that people he cared about were dying, that he could die. He'd seen bodies but lacked the connection to them that made it feel real; seeing all of the corpses at once seemed to have normalized what was happening. Shizuo knew they were dead but the magnitude of what had happened didn't quite reach him until he saw Vorona, someone he had been close to. He was still shaken from seeing her when he saw Kasuka, and that was when he felt everything shut down.

He felt like he had lost his mind for a little and had a vague memory of what he was doing. He remembered telling Izaya not to shoot. He remembered trying to talk to Kasuka. He remembered very clearly that he sincerely believed he could talk to Kasuka and bring him back. He saw the blue and purple skin, the empty eyes, and he saw the way he walked, heard the way he groaned. He saw and he heard and he knew it was too late, but his first instinct was to talk to him.

He saw a zombie but he saw his little brother more.

He thought he was getting through to him; maybe it was desperation, but he genuinely thought it was working. The zombie getting closer suddenly wasn't because it was trying to eat him; it was his little brother trying to give him a hug. Shizuo had deluded himself into believing that, let his elbow bent, allowed the zombie to come closer because it had been Kasuka he was looking at.

But there was a sudden gunshot and blood splatter. The bullet tore through him and the body immediately crumpled into a heap.

It wasn't really Kasuka dying. It was a zombie dying.

But it was his little brother's body and face and Shizuo watched the blood spill.

Shizuo remembered yelling at Izaya about how he was lucky he had closure. It felt like it was ages ago, but he remembered yelling at him, legitimately feeling jealousy well up in his body because Izaya knew about his sisters, he had confirmed where they were. Shizuo had been so, so jealous of that, had believed Izaya achieved what he wanted without even batting an eyelash, without even really trying.

Shizuo had closure now, too, and it made him want to die.

There had been a small hope when he didn't know. When he didn't know, he could think that Kasuka was still alive and still searching for him. He had yelled at Izaya for closure and now had it himself; but now, he realized, he would give anything to go back to when he believed Kasuka was alive and human. Hope killed but the lack of hope could do the same.

Apparently, everything killed.

Knowing Kasuka was out there had always been a constant reassurance for Shizuo. It didn't matter if they didn't see each other very often; knowing that Kasuka was alive and existed meant there was someone who wasn't scared of him and who never would be. Kasuka had been the only constant in Shizuo's life; everyone else either grew to not be scared of him or grew to be terrified.

Kasuka had never been terrified and he never would be terrified.

Knowing someone like that existed reassured him.

But he was dead and that person was no longer there, dead because the guy who he hated more than anyone in the world had shot him after Shizuo explicitly told him not to.

Orihara Izaya, the one who purposely provoked him for what seemed like his own amusement, had him ruining the city and hurting people.

Orihara Izaya, the one who had him fired and wouldn't just let him live a peaceful life.

Orihara Izaya, the one who had caused countless of unspeakable, awful things to happen to people Shizuo cared about.

Orihara Izaya, the one who had put a bullet in Kasuka's brain.

He didn't even realize he was grasping his hair until a few strands came out. Swinging his legs over the side of the cot, Shizuo stood immediately, ignoring Hachi's questioning yip. Hands clenched, his nails biting into the flesh of his palm he began striding towards the front of the vehicle, his eyes focused intently on Izaya, only one word repeating in his mind:

Kill kill kill.

Kill kill kill kill.

Kill.

The vehicle suddenly jerked to a stop, right before Shizuo was about to bring his hand down and grab the man by the shoulder. Shizuo was the only one standing and he just barely managed to catch himself, keeping from breaking his nose on the dashboard. His fingers left dents in the plastic, heard a crack, felt Namie turn to look at him, kept safely in her seat because of the seatbelt. The other one clicked, but Shizuo didn't have time to turn to look at the driver. He swore loudly when he felt someone stepping on his back and was out of the RV, chasing Izaya in less than a second, yelling his name.

Kill kill kill.

Kill that bastard, kill that fuckin' bastard, kill that piece of shit asshole!

I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!

"I—ZA—YA-!"

Truth to be told, Heiwajima Shizuo had done an incredibly good job of not killing Orihara Izaya yet. They had been in close quarters for days and he had every opportunity. He even saved him from ending his own life. Though, to be entirely fair, Izaya did seem a tad bit less annoying. His presence still irritated Shizuo but there was definitely a conscious effort on his part to be more tolerable.

Despite that, Heiwajima Shizuo had stillshown incredible self-constraint. He'd reminded himself that he and Izaya were now partners so he had to deal with him; they had made an agreement. That this was about survival and he could handle Izaya if it was for survival. He ignored the snide comments, the moments where Izaya's personality shone through. Izaya was still Izaya, a selfish human being whose presence itself was enough for Shizuo to uproot a building. Izaya was Izaya, even if he was a partner, even if Shizuo had gone to great lengths to not kill him.

There had been times where Shizuo thought they could actually get along. They'd gone days without fighting, so the idea of continuing the peace seemed possible.

But Orihara Izaya killed his little brother and there was no way he'd forgive that.

He was furious. Izaya had pissed him off before, but it was never like this. He watched him take a life, take Kasuka's life, right in front of him, without even hesitating. It seemed like Izaya constantly found a new low to reach and right now, Shizuo felt, he'd hit absolute rock bottom.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Shizuo didn't care anymore. He didn't care about their supposed agreement and surviving was the last thing on his mind. If it meant he had to survive with Izaya, then he didn't want to at all. It was all a huge mistake; he wished he could go back in time to when Izaya's gun was to his own head and just not bother stopping Izaya from blowing his brains out.

Better his than Kasuka's.

The chase led them to a bit up the highway and Shizuo was pissed that there were a bunch of empty cars, seemingly the result of a traffic jam that left people as sitting ducks for the zombies. Izaya was faster than Shizuo was and the blond quickly lost sight of him. He yelled his name and was flipping cars over as he tried to find him, still furious beyond hell. Anger was muddling his mind and he couldn't focus on anything except Izaya and wanting to kill him, squeeze his throat with his own hands, watch him die, crack his neck himself.

"Izaya!" he roared, kicking a car and hardly noticing the dent or that it moved up and crashed into the one in front of it. "Izaya, get your fuckin' ass out here so I can rip you apart!"

Silence.

Looking around, blond strands of hair whipped at his cheeks. He was acutely aware of his own breathing and heart beating, felt adrenaline pumping through his veins. His limbs, the ones that had felt sluggish, just a bit earlier were now moving almost more quickly than he could think. He felt alive with the will to kill. And it wasn't killing to save himself; it was killing another human being, not a zombie, because Izaya took the life of Kasuka and so Shizuo would take his.

He growled and moved to jump on top of a car, thinking the added height would make it easier to find Izaya. But he lost his footing, sole of his shoe slipping on something wet; eyes wide, he felt himself fall backwards, hands grabbing at anything, resulting only in causing a bunch of supply crates from a truck to fall on him. Shizuo swore and struggled as he tried to free himself, body twisting every which way. But with his arms immobilized, he could do very little.

"Aah… easier than expected."

Izaya sighed and came out from behind a car right behind the one Shizuo had slipped from, holding a bottle of water about half empty. Shizuo's eyes went to the roof and saw that there was glistening liquid and he felt fury well up in him again. Immediately, he began struggling against the crates, blood welling up in his fists from nails penetrating skin.

Fucking bastard!

"IZAYA, I'M GOING TO-!"

"Shizuo."

Shizuo had no explanation for why he actually fell silent when Izaya said his name. Maybe it was because he didn't use his nickname. Or maybe it was because Izaya was gazing at him so coldly. Or maybe it was because his voice was low and serious, missing the usual mocking tone.

Either way, Shizuo was silent and he just glared.

"I saved your life," Izaya said flatly. "And what I killed wasn't Kasuka. It was a zombie. Kasuka is dead, Shizuo. And you were too emotional to realize that and take care of him, so I had to step in. You were about to let him bite you."

"You had no fucking right-!" Shizuo began snarling, cut off by the other's voice.

"I did. Because you're my partner and the way you need to watch my back, I watched yours."

"Partners?!" he spat, echoing the word. "Fuckin' partners?! I told you not to kill him, he-!"

"It."

"He-!"

"It."

"HE-!"

"It."

Izaya's voice was so quiet that Shizuo shouldn't even have been able to hear it cut him off, but he still did. It was infuriating him; Izaya looked so calm and he was looking down on him as he kept interrupting him, fixing his pronoun usage. His expression was cold and distant but, at the same time, piercing and unsettling. He hadn't moved at all from his crouching position, just stared at Shizuo. Finally falling entirely silent, Shizuo glowered for a moment longer before he turned away, not wanting to look at Izaya anymore.

"That wasn't Kasuka," he heard, ignoring Shizuo mumbling a 'shut up' under his breath. "It was his body, but our bodies aren't what make us who we are. Our minds do. And that was just Kasuka's body, but his mind wasn't there. That was a zombie."

Shizuo's hands clenched and he kept mumbling 'shut up' until he was yelling it, trying to give a firm kick. His foot managed to connect with the wheel of the car, but it hardly moved, the crates still mostly immobilizing him. Shizuo felt hot tears pressing to the back of his eyes and swallowed thickly. Breathing felt a little harder and Shizuo continued struggling, hoping to get free and grab Izaya's neck and crush his throat. He was mumbling and swearing as he tried to move the boxes off of him.

But he couldn't, and he was growing frustrated. The one time he needed his strength, it had failed him; he couldn't understand why he felt so weak and powerless, when these crates weighed far less than the car he had thrown. His answer came when all his muscles suddenly fell limp and he just lied there, knowing Izaya was still perching on the car and watching him.

The adrenaline that had made him feel like a superhero was dissipating quickly, leaving him just a normal twenty-five-year-old man, trapped under some crates, having just lost his brother. Just a normal twenty-five-year-old, traveling with two other twenty-five-year-olds. Nothing extraordinary and nothing special, just someone who needed to grieve for the loss of family.

Even though Izaya was still there, Shizuo suddenly felt too drained to kill him anymore. All he wanted to do was lay there and disappear.

Disappear… that'd be nice.

Ah…

I can't… not yet.

Because Kasuka…

And then he felt a hot tear sliding from the corner of his eye and over the bridge of his nose.

Izaya was right, he realized with a hollowing ache in the pit of his stomach.

That wasn't Kasuka. That thing he was talking to was a zombie; he'd been too emotional to properly assess the situation and do what he needed. Izaya was right. He did the right thing. He didn't kill Kasuka. He killed a zombie. He saved Shizuo's life.

Kasuka had died and Shizuo didn't get to say goodbye.

Kasuka did. Kasuka had left a note and that was his farewell, but Shizuo didn't have the chance.

"Kasuka…"

He heard a sigh and felt a few of the boxes begin moving. Izaya had hopped off and was beginning to free him, lifting one crate a time, tossing it to the side. He did so silently, until Shizuo was just lying there with nothing keeping him down. He hadn't moved a single limb, even when it was entirely free. He just laid there, felt asphalt digging into his scalp, tugging at his hair with the slightest movement.

"Get up, Shizuo."

He didn't move. Not at first.

"Would Kasuka want you to just give up?"

If you're reading this, live for both of us.

Shizuo was still immobile for several seconds, but he eventually sighed, a deep exhale that he wished could rid his body of misery. He sat up slowly. First, elbows on the ground to support himself. Then palms when he was sitting up. Then legs, as if to make sure he was still working properly. He stood and dusted himself off, avoided looking at Izaya, keeping his eyes down.

"Survive for Kasuka," Izaya said quietly. "He'd want that for you. You can grieve, but you need to be alive to do that, Shizuo. The world's not going to stop because you're miserable. Be miserable but don't die."

"…Yeah," Shizuo mumbled and began to walk, his feet dragging against the ground and knowing Izaya was following him. "…I know."

When they reached the RV, Namie glanced at them; she had taken the driver's seat and waited until Shizuo was in the cot to rev up the engine and begin driving. The book she was reading was stowed away and she put the seatbelt on—Shizuo wondered if that was because of him—and waited for Izaya to do the same before turning to him.

"Is everything all right now?"

Izaya nodded.

"Yeah."

Shizuo was still and he stared out of the window. Hachi nudged his elbow and for the first time since Kasuka's death, Shizuo cracked a small smile upon turning to him. The dog immediately gave a happy bark and hopped onto the bed, resting his head in Shizuo's lap, tail wagging as he absentmindedly scratched behind his ears, the two watching the countryside pass by.

Kasuka was dead, but that didn't mean Shizuo had no reason to live.

Being alive was reason enough.

"Sorry about that," he murmured quietly, bowing to press a kiss to the top of Hachi's head.

"…I'll be all right."