AN: I'm super tired. I should totally be working, but I'm writing this instead. I fail at life. Oh well. I'm currently working on chapter two of 'A Fate Worse Than Death', and I've just posted my HP/DRRR crossover. I'm probably going to put stuff up on AO3, but I can't say for sure when everything will be up there, as some of it isn't available at the moment. Anyway, I've gotten confirmation that Simon's name is indeed Semyon, so I'll go back and change that at some point. I would like to thank the following people for being super special awesome and giving me so much feedback and support: PD-8, JillianWatson1058, c-antonella, Iany-chan, Naturesshadows, InvisibleWordsinBlack, EurekaXUzumaki, chairo, and all the Guests and anons that reviewed. I'm extremely grateful and I love you guys.
He's four years old and he isn't sure why Babushka and Ojii-chan are here instead of Mommy and Daddy.
He's seven years old and wondering why Babushka is so determined to get him to learn self-defense.
He's nine years old and Ojii-chan is teaching him to throw knives at red and white targets painted on trees.
He's ten years old and Mommy and Daddy come home with two little baby girls, who look more like Daddy than he does (he looks more like Mommy).
He's thirteen years old and watching his only friend in the world bleeding out on the floor and he offers to take the blame and get revenge.
He's fifteen years old and he's running from the blond boy who doesn't like him and can pick up impossibly heavy things.
He's seventeen years old and Mikage has dropped out of high school, and he's pretty sure that it's his fault.
He's nineteen years old and in college and it's pretty boring and he'll never admit it but he misses Shinra.
He's twenty-two years old and graduating and he's half proud of himself and half disappointed because nobody who came to the ceremony came for him.
He's twenty-three years old and looking at Saki's unconscious body and wondering if maybe he feels a little guilty about this.
He's twenty-four years old and Simon punches him in the face and lectures him and he wonders when exactly Simon started to care and why he bothered.
He's twenty-five years old and in the hospital thanks to Yodogiri and it hurts a lot more than he cares to admit that Shinra didn't bother to visit.
He's twenty-five years old and his head hurts and everything's fuzzy and all he knows is that somehow he's been kidnapped.
He's twenty-five years old and he doesn't know why they're hurting him because he's never seen people – creatures – like this before in his life.
He's twenty-five years old and he wonders if maybe this is how people feel right before they commit suicide and isn't that just hilariously ironic.
He's eight years old and lost and terrified and cold and hungry and naked and tired and alone and thirsty and–
He's eight years old and there's a woman holding his hand and whispering comforting things and feeding him even though she doesn't even know his name.
He's eight years old and he isn't so scared anymore.
-THIS IS A LINE BREAK-
He'd never had a friend before. The recently dubbed "Hiro" sent a nervous look at the woman holding his hand, and she smiled back down at him. They had stopped outside a restaurant called 'Russia Sushi', and Hiro couldn't help but feel a little scared.
"Everything is OK, yes?" Siri asked, looking concerned. Hiro nodded, unsure of why this place seemed so familiar. It certainly hadn't been here before, though 'before' was apparently synonymous with '1987', which Hiro was having a hard time getting through his head. "Very good. No worry about people here, OK? All are nice and friendly. No one hurt you."
"I… all right," Hiro chewed on his lower lip as he allowed Siri to lead him into the restaurant. Inside, they were greeted by a large black man who showed them to a table. He had an intimidating stature but a kind smile. Hiro smiled nervously at him in return. Siri greeted the man on friendly terms (she called the man 'Semyon'), but, even though he doubted that the man would hurt him, he was thankful that Siri didn't let go of his hand until they were seating down.
"What would you like?" Siri asked, reverting back to Russian. If Hiro hadn't grown up in a house where English, Russian, and Japanese were all used interchangeably, sometimes all in one sentence, and blended together to form their own crazy language, he probably would have been startled by the sudden switch.
"Uh… I'm not picky," he mumbled. She just laughed and repeated her question. Flushing, he glanced down at his menu again. "Maybe… Maguro, please? Or tekka maki, I guess." She smiled.
"You like tuna, huh?" she teased. He nodded. "That's good. I was scared you'd ask for ice cream." Hiro shook his head.
"No, I'm not all that fond of sweets," he admitted. "I like fruit more than candy."
"That's good," Siri told him. "You'll be healthy and happy!" he nodded.
"That's what Babushka said," he remembered. She had said that when he was five, what felt like three years ago but was apparently more like twenty.
"So, do you want to tell me how you ended up in that alley?" Siri asked. Hiro shrugged one shoulder, looking down.
"I don't remember," he replied. "I was running from something, but I don't remember what or why." The large man arrived at their table, interrupting their conversation.
"You are ready to order, yes?" he said cheerfully. Siri nodded.
"Yes!" she chirped. "I wish to eat oo-nah-gee, and Hiro says tuna!"
"What kind?" the large man turned to face the small boy. "We have oh-toe-roh and maa-goo-roh and teh-kah-maa-kee." Hiro blinked.
"Uh, I don't know what that first one is," he confessed.
"In English, it's 'fatty tuna'," Siri explained, in English. "Is that better?" she switched to Russian, and Hiro grinned. This, he could do.
"Yeah, that helps a lot," he said cheerfully. "I'm really grateful for this, Miss Siri. Thanks so much for everything." The large man laughed.
"You speak a lot of languages," he said, amused. "You've got a good sense of humor, too. Reminds me of–" he cut himself off, looking a little saddened.
"If you're talking about Izaya, then don't look so sad," an older (and whiter) man said, walking up behind the large black man.
"Izaya?" Hiro asked, fingers tensing. "That's an odd name."
"And an odd guy," the new man responded. His Japanese was much better than the first man's. "He was kind of an asshole. He disappeared a couple months ago. If you ask me, we're better off without him. Simon here thinks otherwise, though." The big man – Simon – shook his head gravely.
"Ee-zah-yah not nice person," he announced. "But he no as horrible as Dennis say." Dennis, who must have been the other man, just sighed.
"Whatever," he grumbled. "Just take their order."
"You try oh-toe-roh," Simon suggested. "I make cheap, just for you. Oh-toe-roh is very good. You try, yes?" Hiro glanced at Siri, who nodded encouragingly.
"Alright, I'll try that," he decided. Simon clapped.
"Very good!" he declared. "Sushi ready soon, OK?" Hiro nodded and turned back to Siri.
"Do you know this Izaya guy?" he asked quietly. She shook her head.
"I've heard of him, but I don't know him personally," she said. "Why are you so curious?" Hiro shifted uncomfortably.
"It's an odd name, that's all," he murmured. "Foreign, for Isaiah, so it's probably in katakana, but… it's just a strange name, you know?" Siri nodded.
"It is rather odd," she admitted. "However, even more odd is that it isn't spelled in katakana – it's in kanji. I've seen his name written on take-out slips at this store. It's written with characters I'm not too familiar with, though. It certainly doesn't look like it should be pronounced 'Ee-zah-yah', but I couldn't say for certain."
"Do you have a pen I could borrow?" Hiro asked, reaching for his napkin. Siri dug around in her purse, and handed him one. Carefully, Hiro sketched out the familiar characters on the napkin. 臨也. "Like this, right?" Siri leaned over.
"Yes, I think so." She agreed. Hiro nodded sagely.
"Yeah, that's pretty odd," he explained. "See, 臨means 'overlooking', and 也is mostly used in Chinese, I think. This should probably be read as 'Rinya' or maybe as 'Nozo-ya'. I couldn't say why it's not." Siri looked at him.
"Do you know this Izaya guy?" she sent his question back at him. Hiro paused.
"Might've met him once," he allowed. She gazed at him skeptically.
"You should stay away from him," she warned. "He's a dangerous man." Hiro swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Yeah," he managed. "I'll do that."
-THIS IS A LINE BREAK-
Raising her fist, the girl in white knocked on the door again, frowning.
"I'm sure someone's home," she told her quiet boyfriend. "Kishitani-sensei told me he didn't have any plans for the day, so we can visit Onee-sama."
"Kishitani-sensei?" the boy called. "Are you in? I'd like to visit Nee-san."
"Kishitani-sensei?" the girl joined in. "Celty-san? Onee-sama?" There was no response. The boy's eyes narrowed.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," he murmured. A look of resolve settled across his face, and he took a step back. "Mika, get away from the door."
"Whatever you say, Seiji-san!" Mika beamed. Seiji took another step back, and then launched himself at the door with as much force as he could. The couple heard a cracking sound, and Seiji pulled back to try again. The door to Shinra's house was not an expensive one, as Shizuo continuously broke them. Rather than trying to contain his friend's temper, Shinra had simply decided to buy cheaper doors so that Shizuo wouldn't feel so bad when he broke them.
"Sorry about this, Kishitani-sensei," Seiji took another step back, and ran towards the door. The sound of splintering wood resounded in his ears, and a couple of splinters went into his arm. Seiji grimaced. He was definitely going to have a bruise. Stepping inside, he turned back around to open what was left of the door for his girlfriend.
"Thanks, Seiji-san!" Mika skipped into the doctor's house, smiling. At that moment, the two of them heard a crashing sound, and Seiji stepped protectively in front of his girlfriend. Mika's face flushed. Granted, he wasn't protecting her, but…
"Kishitani-sensei?" Seiji called. A couple of pens appeared in his hand, and Mika's cell phone appeared in hers. Carefully, the pair turned the corner.
Never in his life had Seiji been so glad that he had broken down a door.
-THIS IS A LINE BREAK-
Mikajima Saki was not a stupid person. She was not as smart as Anri or Mikado, and certainly not as smart as Izaya-san, but she had her own form of intelligence that even Izaya-san could not match. More importantly, she knew when her presence was making things awkward.
"I've got a couple things to do," she announced. "Take care of Masaomi for me, will you?" All three of them seemed to figure out what she was saying.
"You don't have to go!" Mikado protested. "I'd really like to get to know you better!" Anri nodded, and Masaomi looked nervously between his best friend, girlfriend, and… he wasn't really sure what Anri was to him, but she was important.
"I know that," Saki smiled at them. "But you guys need some time to catch up, so I'll just have to get to know Mikado and Anri later."
"Saki…" Masaomi's voice was quiet, but sincere.
"I know," she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. "But right now, you need to spend time with your friends. And that doesn't include me." She laughed. "I said that before, right? That only Masaomi can reconnect with his friends." He nodded, but there was no smile on his face.
"Saki…" he said. "Before you go…" she turned to him, wondering what was up with the pauses. He finally met her eyes, and she saw it – fear. No, not fear, not exactly; more like worry. He was worried. "Promise me you'll be careful." It wasn't a question, and Saki smiled.
"Of course," she said. "I think Namie-san must be bored, so I'll go keep her company." She kissed him again, on the lips this time, and turned to go.
"One moment," Saki turned yet again to meet Mikado's face. He looked very serious, but still naïve, and she though maybe she understood why Masaomi had been so desperate to never let him see the darker side of Ikebukuro. "Mikajima-san, while I'm sure you're already aware of this, Izaya-san is part of the Dollars." She nodded, and he continued. "I may not be all that fond of him, but whoever hurts anyone with the Dollars for no reason is officially on my shit list." Masaomi and Anri both gave Mikado startled looks. Swearing was not something he did very often. Saki just smiled and nodded.
"I may be lacking in physical strength," she said calmly. "But I have my own ways of doing things. If I find the person who hurt Izaya-san, they're going to pay for it. I will not allow anyone to hurt the people I care about." For a moment, to Masaomi and Anri, it was as if Mikado and Saki were in their own little world, communicating in a way that no one else could understand. Neither one was threatening the other, but there was a warning there.
-THIS IS A LINE BREAK-
Shizuo clenched his fists as the shadow thing he'd been chasing slipped under a doorway. As pissed as he was, he had to restrain himself from breaking into someone else's house. He lit a cigarette and took a deep breath, hoping that his beloved nicotine would calm him down. It worked, for a moment, until his cell phone rang. Looking at the ID, he realized it was someone he didn't know. However, very few people actually had his number, and solicitors had stopped calling him after he'd accidently-on-purpose smashed one of their cars. Sighing, he picked up.
"Who the hell–" he began, only to be cut off.
"You don't know me," a voice responded. It was a young girl, who sounded scared. "My name is Mika, but that's not important. Listen, Kishitani-sensei is in serious danger right now. He's been attack by some guy. Seiji-san and I are doing our best to hold him off, but he's very strong, and Kishitani-sensei looks like he's been hurt pretty bad. Please hurry." There was a cracking sound, a yelp of pain, and then the phone was disconnected. For a moment, Shizuo was too surprised to react properly. Then–
"Shizuo-senpai?" a voice said. He turned around, meeting Vorona's gaze.
"What're you doing here?" he growled, coming off more aggressively than he really meant to.
"We saw you chasing something and figured it had something to do with Izaya," Mikage explained, hopping off the Russian woman's motorcycle. "Vorona-san and I had a sparring match earlier, and then we wandered around for a bit until we saw you. What was with that phone call?" Shizuo blinked at her, then swore.
"Fuck!" he growled. "Shinra's in trouble, apparently." Mikage silently tossed him the helmet she'd been wearing. "Thanks."
"If Shizuo-senpai requires, room is available on motorcycle," Vorona told him. Mikage nodded.
"I'll look for that shadowy thing," she offered. "You go help Kishitani."
"Thanks," he said again, sliding onto the motorcycle behind Vorona, who was doing her very best to act indifferent. Mikage just grinned, and gave a thumb up to her newfound friend. Good luck, she mouthed. Vorona's cheeks definitely didn't turn red. Really.
-THIS IS A LINE BREAK-
The Rotting Man prodded the limp form beside it with an appendage that was probably supposed to be a foot. It looked bored – well, as bored as a creature that didn't have a recognizable face could look. The figure on the floor let out a small squeaking sound that might have been a groan of pain, and the woman across from the Rotting Man adjusted her glasses and wrote something down on her clipboard.
The being on the floor could remember nothing – not its name, not its gender, not its age or birthday or even species. It only remembered the pain. Looking closely at the figure, one might realize that it was slightly translucent, as if it wasn't entirely there. The figure did, however, remember the pain. Its crimson eyes were glazed over in agony, blood trailed down its face, and the place where its left arm had once been was now a gaping mass of mutilated flesh that appeared to have been cauterized with what was likely a cigarette lighter in the most half-assed way possible. The remaining hand had been pinned to the floor with a tuning fork, and would twitch every now and then in an attempt to dislodge the two-pronged piece of steel. The figure was also nude, but it was likely unaware of this.
Aside from the woman with the clipboard, the figure on the floor, and the Rotting Man, there was one other being in the room. The fourth person was dressed as an average Japanese businessman, which made sense, as that's exactly what he was. There was, however, something very odd about him – his eyes were glowing an unnatural red, as were the eyes of the woman with the clipboard. When he spoke, it was with an oddly blank tone, but an otherwise human voice.
"Everything is going according to plan… Mother."
AN: Surprise! Who saw that coming? Well, hopefully nobody, or I wouldn't be very good at twists. I'm sure you all remember Siri (the lost and found lady who was voiced by LAURA MOTHERFUCKING BAILEY), but if you don't… sucks to be you, I guess. I may not have Internet access for a couple days next week, as I'll be visiting my relatives in Tennessee (during Passover, which is going to be a huge pain in the ass, as they're extremely orthodox and we're… not), but I'll try to work on chapter eleven while I'm gone. For those of you also reading "I Absolutely Refuse to Acknowledge That This is My Fault", my goal is to have the next chapter of that up within the next nine days, but I can't promise you that it'll happen. To the person (or people, if there's more than the person who PM'd me) who wants my Izaya/Mikage oneshot, I'll start writing as soon as Mikage's character has a tag on the character chart. As for "A Fate Worse Than Death", I've already started chapter two, but, again, I don't know when it will be finished. Also, I got a couple reviews saying that they would read a manga/novel by me, which made me very happy, though I should warn that I'll probably write a novel, because I'm not a good enough artist to do a lot of drawing. I'm still in the planning stages on the novel, but I hope to get down to writing that soon! With all that said, happy Easter, happy Passover, and happy whatever-the-hell-else-happens-around-this-time-of-year!