As soon as Izaya got home, he got to work. He made a list of the serial numbers on Shizuo's bills. As Izaya thought, there was a bundle of older bills dating from around or before their high school days and a bundle of newer ones. He had decided to follow the trail of money and see where it led. This small fortune was beyond most people's budget, let alone a broke debt collector that struggled to make ends meet. Shizuo had stolen it or borrowed it from a friend or extorted it from some poor soul.
Izaya considered these options. Kasuka was wealthy enough to lend his brother a helping hand. At any rate, the two different types of bills hinted at two donors, be them voluntary or not. According to Shizuo there was more money. The trip to Shizuo's apartment had not been completely disastrous. Izaya now knew for a fact that Shizuo was not living above his means.
Non-serialized numbers made it unlikely that he had robbed a bank but Izaya made a mental note to use his contacts at the Bank of Japan and to check a few loan sharks. Legitimate and underground sources reinforced each other to trace the trail of meaningful paper. Finding out how Shizuo had come into possession of the money was not even cracking half of the mystery. Motivations remained unknown. Izaya stored the bills in the safe.
He had already showered but he now took a bath. Izaya rinsed his skin anew. He still felt the sticky impression of cold sweat. Fear was an emotion he did not handle well. And he was too honest with himself to deny that he was afraid of Heiwajima Shizuo. Not to mention he was terrified of dying.
The warm water and foggy air did not seem to even diffuse the chill deep in his bones. Fear was a conditioned response triggered in case of a dangerous situation, it was inherited without a glitch by the evolutionary tree from the remotest days of self-aware higher primates to modern days homo sapiens- and none of this mattered at all. Rationalizations could not coexist with fear when it hit. It was only later that they were at all possible and by then they were useless. Izaya slid below the surface. His body disconnected from his body as it happened at times when he was in deep thought. Undisturbed.
He preferred decisions forged in the heat of the moment but this kind of quiet reflection had its advantages. Blurred sounds barely reached him. Holding his breath. Izaya had to wonder if Shizuo ever felt fear. If not then he could very well be beyond his reach. For the second time in a very eventful night he remembered cutting Shizuo. Years upon years could pass over that particular scene without any effacing effect on Izaya's memory. He had seen naked surprise in Shizuo at the time. More than the pain he was sure that it had been the shock of being at all wounded that had impacted Shizuo. Which meant that there was hope.
Izaya emerged from the water with a smile. He wrapped himself in a fluffy towel and coolly assessed the many tasks at hand. There might still be much fun to be had.
Sunday nights were sushi nights. Izaya did not feel much in the mood for it but he was not about to let anything interfere with his routine in the slightest. It did not occur to him that enforcing this policy was admitting the pressure on him. But this habit fulfilled a minimum quota of a weekly incursion into Ikebukuro. Directly disobeying Shizuo's
"Orihara-san, good evening."
"I'm taking a private room tonight."
Russia Sushi was filling with the usual bustle. Izaya passed the half-filled counter seats, silently doing a roll call on the several habitués. A few weird confections oozed cheese on tiny platters. Izaya hurried past these. Simon's idea of original cuisine did not match with anyone else's. Which meant that his culinary creations were a direct spin off of his personality. Normally Izaya would take a few minutes to ponder this but now he rushed upstairs. He stopped in front of a sliding door and removed his shoes. A low table and chair furnished the otherwise empty room. Izaya hummed a popular tune under his breath and in no time Simon was serving him a generous array of sushi bits. Such a large man handling tiny pieces of food delicacies was a spectacle well worth of Izaya's attention. Simon gave him preferential treatment out of instinctive distrust.