So, here's chapter 11! Admittedly I had a story-altering review that just made me pause and think through some aspects of the story. So I changed a few characters around, including the two who appear in this fic. Originally they were going to be OCs...
Can you recognize them? =)
Hope you all enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 11
It was during one of his "vacation expeditions" back to his nest when he heard a voice stop him.
It wasn't calling his name – besides, only two knew it and one was mute – but there was no mistaking who "Hey, Coat-bro!" was referring to.
It wasn't a voice he'd heard before. He'd never heard a girl with quite that shrill a pitch before, other than perhaps the sparrows that were sometimes his neighbors in the past.
He leaned back further, arms still resting on the railings, so that he was staring upside-down at the source of the voice. Or rather, that was his plan, but he still couldn't see where she was. Frowning, he flipped himself around and looked straight down.
There, standing below his former nest, was a strange girl with waist-length hair, holding hands with a quiet boy with hair that seemed to flop all over the place. It was even messier than his. The boy wore a hoodie with a striking design splashed over the front that didn't seem to fit him at all, and the girl was wearing a sheer, dark dress that made it look like someone tried to play doll with her.
That was probably what had actually happened.
"What're you doing up there?" asked the girl. Her slanted eyes peered up at Izaya, making him feel like she was wondering just how to sneak up on him and trap him and cage him. He shuddered slightly before regaining his composure. He didn't answer back.
The girl pouted. She had to be about half his age (and about the other boy's age), yet even Izaya, well-versed as he was in humans, was cautious. "I said, 'What are you doing up there?'" she demanded in slightly louder voice.
Still no response from Izaya. He chose to stay silent, wary of the situation. Seeing her stomp her feet in frustration, he began to think if it was a wise decision. One of his least favorite things was crying children. The reaction was crude, and the noise was loud – that's all there was to it.
It reminded him of baby birds. He was glad he had never started a family. They were just as loud as babies and the damn chicks were always, always, always hungry. Then they up and leave without so much as a "thank you."
Luckily, the boy standing next to her seemed to notice her scrunched face as well. Without looking up at his audience, the boy started speaking. It was unlike anything Izaya had heard before, and he didn't understand a speck of it. Apparently the girl did, though, because she was nodding enthusiastically to his words.
Izaya didn't like the look of that boy. If the girl appeared to be sly, then the boy seemed to be veritable fox, down to the very way his eyes were shaped. They even looked like they were closed most of the time, and it was only when he occasionally lifted his head to see him on the rafters that Izaya could tell that he really was keeping them open.
After a few seconds' conversation, the two looked back up again, the girl this time with a grin on her face. "Yumimi here says that you'll come down if I tell you you're a purebred chicken not fit to be scavenged on and that even the pigeons would be ashamed of you." Completely ignoring Izaya who was by now staring indignantly at the girl, she continued on, "Is that true? You really are a birdbrain aren't you. It's not like you're hiding if you sit up that high. Did you think black was a good color? I like it too. You're really black aren't you? …Hmm? That coat looks familiar… Where did I see it before…?" And with this, the girl finally trailed off.
Though her words had stopped, Izaya's mild headache at the barrage of questions hadn't subsided, and he was mentally debating whether any or all of the queries were that "rhetorical question" thing he'd heard of before. He wanted to answer as few as possible.
The bird comments, though… There was no way anyone should have known, and logically he knew they didn't, but he couldn't truly put it past them. Logic and paranoia did not exist in the same plane.
Suddenly, the girl tapped one fist on the other's palm with a long "Oooh," and turned to her companion, who was still looking up at him. Izaya tried not to shuffle in his place as the she questioned this "Yumimi" something and he replied in that weird language of his. The two nodded before long and simultaneously turned their faces towards him.
"You're the one who killed that gangbanger, right? The 'Peter Pan' they were talking about, right?"
Again, Izaya found himself staring at the girl. Killed? But the last time he had killed someone was…
"You know Ryuu-nii right? Well he had a jacket that looked juuuust like that," she said, swinging her hands wide open for what he supposed was emphasis, "and it was … what was it again?" Yumimi mumbled something and the girl nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! 'Custom-made's' what it was! He said something about there only being one of them in the whole wide world."
Her words moved faster from that motormouth of hers than the former bird could keep up with, but he understood the gist of it and shifted one hand to grasp the coat that he always wore.
It was something of a sore topic between Shinra and him over the past half-year that they'd lived together. Shinra wanted to throw it out and have him get something "less ratty" (which, in Shinra's oh-so-magnificent opinion, was a lab coat), but his new student-cum-tenant wouldn't hear of it. In fact, Celty had found it necessary to dub the words "Izaya's coat" taboo within the household because she was tired of pulling the two boys apart, with one trying very hard to bite the other and the other trying very hard to rip the coat bodily off him.
Was this girl trying to take the coat away from him too?
Quite honestly, he didn't know why he was so attached to the thing. It was starting to fall apart at the seams, and it was only thanks to Celty's constant interference that the garment ended up in the laundry at all and didn't stink up the whole apartment (and a 500 feet radius outside). Its cloth was even starting to bunch up into balls and what used to be smooth and sleek felt soft, worn, and bumpy.
But he loved the coat, almost as much as he did humans. It saved his life more than once and was practically his first actual possession. Then again, perhaps this was a different kind of "love." He didn't particularly feel like observing the coat; he just wanted to nestle in its warmth. No way was it rotting out in some dumpster where he found his past meals in. Or letting it fall into children's grubby little paws.
"We're not trying to take it," said the girl, as though she were reading his mind. The fox boy only nodded. "In fact, if you did, then that means you killed Ryuu-nii. And if you did, then we'd have to thank you. Because thanking people is what you do, right, Yumimi?"
Fox boy nodded. He bowed a little, blonde hair shadowing over his eyes. "Thanks," came a quiet mutter.
Thank? Had he done anything gratitude-worthy? Izaya thought back. He'd thought killing was looked down upon, wasn't it?
Gah, at least animals all had one opinion about a topic.
…Then again, that's what made humans so interesting.
"Haha! Don't mind Yumimi, he's shy. He doesn't know how to talk well either, so I do all the talking for him. Ryuu-nii was a baad, bad person, so now we're free to do whatever we want! Thanks, weird kid!"
Izaya clutched his coat tighter. While understanding them wasn't much of a problem, keeping up with the sheer pace of the words was giving him a headache that was starting to break out of his temples.
But, for now, it seemed like he was safe. He forced himself to relax.
"So, are you like Yumimi? Or can't you talk?"
Now or never, right?
"I am not reh-really good at talking," Izaya sounded out. He must've sounded odd because the girl tilted her head, like a confused bird.
"No, but you talk funny."
Yes, he knew that, thank you very much. "Practicing."
The girl hummed. She was about to open her mouth again when the boy tugged on her sleeve again. She listened to his whispers for a few seconds before nodding eagerly. "Ooh, that's a great idea! Hey, mister! Wanna come to lunch with us? We're getting some in celebration at the Chinese place!"
Chinese… Chinese. Chinese was noodles (the worm-food he had subsisted on for the greater half of his time as a mammal) and heavy sauces. Also rice and bad chicken-like things. It'd … been a while since he'd last had any, and he was honestly hungry.
Despite his warning bells about the duo, he nodded.
After all, he was older and bigger than they were. What could the problem be?
You have no idea, dear birdie. No idea.
Also, crowzaya would appreciate reviews. Reviews, please? =3
