It was a quiet night when the sun first set. The day ended early for Group 6, as Twelve was too exhausted to keep up with everyone else. He assured the others that he would be up to pace soon enough, but Akise insisted that they rest in a clothing shop nearby for the night. Izaya agreed with him in sweet tones after the boy detective inquired whether the idea was alright with the informant.
Izaya was in a mood to get above everyone else, out into the open air. He longed to be in the city, standing atop a tall building with the gusting air refreshing him once more. Alas, he was only in a two-story building, and now wasn't a good time to go on a walk.
In choosing a place to rest, Izaya had chosen to be apart from everyone else, as he liked it. Twelve quickly crashed, and was already dead asleep. Suzuya and Akise were both settled in already while Izaya was scribbling notes in his new and improved information papers. Celty was sitting in a chair by the front windows of the store, on first watch. She had insisted she wasn't too tired from her game, and she preferred being on first watch anyway. Her leg was bouncing in vague irritation that Izaya was still up, using a small lamp he'd taken from another store and plugging it in to an outlet on a nearby wall. He was on his stomach, feet kicking in the air as he wrote.
Celty seemed to breathe a sigh, even though she had no head to do so. She then got to her feet, walking over to Izaya while tapping a message into her phone. Suzuya peered at her from underneath his pillow (found at another store), and Akise glanced at her curiously. The boy detective was lying on his back, looking through his own little journal. It pissed Izaya off – that was his 'weapon,' huh…?
[You should turn off the light and try to rest.] Izaya looked up into this message from Celty with some amusement. He gave her a wry grin, and she began tapping again. [I'm sure the others want to sleep.]
"Twelve seems quite content with my use of this lamp."
[12 is already sleeping!] She had one hand on her hip – the phantom one.
"Fine, fine…" Izaya gave in with a shrug, switching off the light.
Celty's helmet nodded in approval. [Thank you, Izaya.]
Izaya snickered in glee. "Even a thank you; this is great," he scoffed, settling himself on the ground.
In the dark, Akise slipped his journal under his pillow while Suzuya… kept his head under his pillow. The boy detective gazed through the dark with rose eyes, contemplating the reality of this game with his head resting on his hands, folded neatly behind his cranium. Sighing lightly, he closed his eyes.
"It's too bad this city is empty," Izaya commented.
"Too many casualties would occur, and this game would last forever," Akise answered easily.
"Eh," Izaya shrugged. "Wonder where Twelve's balloon ended up."
"Maybe it's free," Suzuya mumbled darkly.
"Maybe," said Akise. "If it is, that would mean there's a hole in the barrier."
"Yeah," Suzuya said shortly.
"Hm, goodnight, Suzuya-kun; Celty-san… Izaya-san."
"'Night," said the CCG officer.
Izaya clicked his tongue. He'd been a little more sporadic interacting with his group after their confrontation with Roppi, and even Izaya knew it. He just found himself jumping around from one trivial thing to the next – there wasn't a moment of distinctly serious conversation amongst any of them. Izaya caught Akise about to bring something up a few times, but after cutting him off three times or so, the fourteen-year-old took the hint and went along with the light conversation.
But now Izaya wasn't dancing anymore. There was no one to dance with, and as the sun set, the silence came with it. Strangely, he found it deafening.
He reached to his side, touching the hilt of Yoh's crimson blade. "Hm…" He began to smile. "Maybe I should come up with a name for this sword. A cool one." He didn't mask his voice at all to match the silence. He heard someone shift, and he smiled in delight. "What do you guys think?"
He heard Celty's foot tapping on the ground in irritation.
"I named my scythe Jason," remarked Suzuya, poking his head out from under his pillow. "Didja know, I'm the 'Jason' of the CCG?" He giggled in that off way of his.
"Are you?" Izaya grinned. "Why's that; ruthless? Probably got a hefty death count, right?"
"Yeahh… Ghouls aren't that hard to kill." The kid sounded like he was grinning right back.
"Huh. So you're a monster after all, eh, Suzu-chan?"
"Ah?"
He heard Celty stand up, and Izaya quickly continued. "It's surely a cool weapon you've got there, though. I'm almost jealous, but someone like me hasn't handled such a scythe before. You're better off with it than me. I prefer knives, to be honest. Just, not for killing. That's too dirty a job for me."
"Ohh, I used to use knives, but this is way better," he assured Izaya, and the informant laughed.
"Well then, if you have Jason, I wonder – what should I name this one, hm? Curious~"
"Dunno," the other answered.
Chuckling, he listened to Celty sitting back down. I bet that sword is one of the few weapons that can off Yato, hm? Celty's scythe, definitely. Maybe Suzu-chan's. We're totally equipped to do him in! He burst into tight laughter. Running his fingers gently over the sharpened side of the blade and feeling the beautiful curvatures and designs inlaid into the metalloid itself, Izaya grinned at the weapon in glee through the dark. He still hadn't laid down. I suppose… "Hm. What about 'the Prophet'?" It can kill Shinki… It might even be able to kill demons; kill gods. Since it's mine, now… "Akise-kun likened me to Isaiah, didn't he? I think it's the perfect name!"
Suddenly, he felt something smack him in the back of the head, and his laughter was cut off. "—Ah?"
Searching the ground, he found the culprit: a shoe. Blinking, he turned to look behind him with a grin to see Celty's phone screen in his face again. [Go to sleep.]
"Is that an order?" he beamed, smiling a closed-eye smile and restraining himself from laughing again. "I can't believe you threw a shoe at me!"
[Just be quiet.]
"Okay, all you had to do was ask," he said easily, and she went back to her post with much annoyance. Her intervention was punctuated with the chortling of Akise.
Izaya glanced over at him with a lopsided smile, and the store was blanketed in the quiet again. He listened to the shifting around him as he lay on his back, fingers folded over his stomach. Smile dissipating, he stared coolly through the near-black of the shadows they slept in. Hey, Shizu-chan, he thought. Are you mad…?
Was he comfortable here? Absolutely. His mouth twitched. Kaneki's and Seidou's groups… I wonder how they're faring. I'm curious as to whether Roppi-san and Shintaro-kun made it back. To think, Roppi-san started acting on his own like that—funny… I wonder, what's that foolish god doing right this moment? I bet he'll only dig his grave further… Funny to watch. I get to witness a god fall from grace—no, I may have aided in pushing him over that edge! Unable to control his mirth, he held his hand over his mouth as his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Because… it's not like—he'd be so interesting this way…!
Soon, his humor faded, and he was left lying on his back, staring nowhere with a hollow expression. Interestingly… before… we had been a relatively… effective group.
Shizuo and Yukine had been the ones that disagreed with him the worst. Yukine adorably would scold Izaya and Shizuo as if it were they that were the children. Shizuo's deep loathing for Izaya wasn't anything new. They fought all the time – but to work alongside him the whole way! The informant was amazed they managed at all. Of course he knew why… But that didn't stop him from taunting them throughout. The only one that didn't get mad typically was Yato himself. No, Yato and him were the ones laughing. It was so easy to poke and prod at Shizuo and Yukine, and Yato would add on to the mischief as if they'd been partners in crime. Ironically, he and the god got along very well, in fact…
Are we alike? he wondered. I'd say so. But… no, there was still a difference he had from me, he thought, thinking of when he watched as Shizuo and Yukine both tried their best to tend to the injured Yato just after he'd faced the Gourmet. No, just like Shizuo… he still had others flock to him. He saw Yato wielding Nora, his voice rising in the roar of a god, as Twelve put it. …Well, that's not true anymore. Now both of us are monsters, plain and simple.
He became aware of the crimson blade at his side. He watched Yukine collapse, body sliced cleanly into two pieces. I… Yato was shouting accusations at him in the traditional household, the moonlight bathing them in silver. Why didn't I… He was slicing and stabbing at Yoh's abdomen with his switchblade, sending him to his knees. …stop him?
It was odd. For once, Izaya didn't have an answer. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He decided not to think about it. And he didn't.
I didn't sleep last night…, he thought to himself. I haven't slept much at all through this whole game. Breathing a grudging sigh, he rolled his eyes. I should probably try and sleep, if only for a little while. Otherwise, it'll negatively affect how well I function. Eyes closing, he sighed. This entire game… is very troublesome.
Despite his agreement with himself that he would sleep, he kept catching himself and jolting back to reality, eyes opening momentarily only to see that nothing had changed. It was only once he was sure that Suzuya and Akise were most certainly asleep by then that he began to drift a little easier. Sleep took him slowly. He wasn't a person to sleep often – even back home he would often sleep at his desk after working himself into rest… simply because that was the best way to actually be able to fall asleep. Sleep was inconvenient anyway.
But eventually, Izaya fell into a restless slumber that greeted him with flickering images of his mind's eye. Such dreams weren't always so welcoming.
He was laughing. There they were; the human race. He laughed as they moved like puppets, toyed with by lies. He laughed at the sheer amusement brought on by humanity's gullible predictability. He laughed at the way they kidded themselves; at their pain. Here he was, the master puppeteer, unaffected by every tragedy, every life cast into the nothing. No, to him it was comedy. Those who died in the process were disposable anyway. That's what humans were, weren't they? Watch the world as an observer, and it all makes sense! Yeah, it was funny. He was… laughing. He laughed as he moved like a puppet, toyed with by lies. He laughed at the sheer amusement brought on by the mess he himself had made. He laughed at the way he kidded himself, at his own pain.
Was that right?
He found himself toying with someone, but when the broken-down man turned his head, it was only Izaya Orihara looking right back at him.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Nah, it was Roppi in front of him; completely different. "You have too much blood on your hands," Roppi said to him. "I'm just judging you for exactly who you are: a killer."
"Hah?" Izaya's eyes widened, mouth stretching across his face. "I've said I'm a monster. I never said I was anything so disgusting as a 'killer,' see." Isn't it funny? That humans are so gullible, so predictable as they are? One doesn't need to guide them into hell – you just need to open the door! That's all Izaya ever did, you know? Humans are gifted with free will – I just give suggestions!
A firm hand on his shoulder caused him to wheel around – it was Shizuo. Immediately Izaya staggered backwards, falling onto the ground. He was covering his own ears even though the ex-bartender in front of him wasn't saying anything. The informant closed his eyes. It's too quiet; somebody say something…! This isn't real…, he assured himself, but when he opened his eyes again, Shizuo was smiling at him again – the gentlest expression he'd ever received since… since… He couldn't think of a single moment, and he felt something squeezing in his chest. He felt a taunting smile trying to tug at the corners of his mouth, but it felt all wrong. "Stop that," he said, and heard the ice in his own tone. Shizuo kept smiling at him. "What, are you mocking me?" he sneered. His enemy didn't answer, and the dead quiet seized Izaya by the throat. His sneer became a scowl. "I said stop that…!" He screwed his eyes shut again. "Stop looking like that—what's that expression supposed to mean, huh?! Are you trying to mess with me?!" At last he straightened and opened his eyes, but Shizuo remained immobile. No reaction. Nothing. What the hell was this? "You hate me, don't you? Where's your scowl; your low and monstrous growl, hah? Hah?" That's right, this face was the one he made when he—
"Answer me, damn it!" he exclaimed. Shizuo stared right through him, eyes impassive. "Look at me and say it! You hate me, right?! Yell back! Give me your stupid retort; not that you'll come up with something too intelligent anyway, you protozoan—!" He cut himself off. Oddly, he felt heavy. He hurt. "So—tell me—why are you smiling like that?! Why did—you—?" He couldn't get it out. He found himself screaming in frustration. "Face me, damn it! Since when did you want to quit fighting me?! Hah?! What a disappointment! You're supposed—to fight—back!" He was already on his feet, pounding senselessly at Shizuo's chest as if it would make a difference. As if it would make him answer. "Tell me—why was it?! Why did you die like that—? Stop—ignoring me—you piece of shit—…" Head bowed, he gave in, slumping. "Answer me… It doesn't make any sense…!" He saw nothing but black. "After all… you never did catch me. How could you just give up like that… hah…? Just a quitter… or what…?" …Maybe… you're better off this way…?
…Ridiculous. He was talking to a ghost. This made no sense. Make it stop. He brought his hands to his face, and found his hands to be wet. He jerked his head up—no… Tears…? He looked down to find his hands coated red, and he felt suddenly ill. Before him was Shizuo, with red blossoms on his chest, sticky carmine oozing thick lifeblood. But I… didn't…
He felt a roaring in his insides. Something was wrong—!
Izaya jerked awake, instinctively grabbing the switchblade beneath his pillow and holding it up to any danger that might exist within arm's reach. The culprit backed off instantly with a nervous laugh. Izaya stared at the figure, not comprehending. Reality was still sinking in and taking shape around him. Yeah, he was with his group in the store for the night. He found that the hand holding the knife was trembling, if slightly. His breathing was heavy. As he made sense of the world around him, he found it was Twelve before him. His mouth twitched. He tried to smile. It didn't work. Izaya was scrambling to regain his composure, but it wasn't working.
Twelve rubbed the back of his head, a huge grin stretching ear-to-ear. "Sorry," he whispered.
Izaya could only stare at him. His ears were ringing.
"Paranoid? Makes sense. Uh… you can put that away," the terrorist informed him, and Izaya's eyes narrowed slightly. The switchblade was flicked shut, and the informant pocketed it warily. "Didn't mean to freak you out," Twelve said apologetically. "I'm on watch now, and, well… I heard you getting a little restless and figured you were having a nasty nightmare. My partner has those a lot. I bet you don't get the same kind, but… you know." He shrugged.
By now Izaya's breathing had steadied. Now he just sat, curled in his blanket, watching Twelve closely.
"You'd understand him pretty well," the other continued.
I'd understand just about anyone pretty well, Izaya answered voicelessly.
"I mean, I know you understand 'people' well, but I mean, on a personal level. He's a purely logical kind of person, and I can tell you like logic. My partner and I kinda balance each other out in that way. But… you know, even though both of you have your similarities, I have to say you're definitely different. I mean… on more than the level of color of voice. He's blue, see. But, ah… I've been thinking about it—trying to figure you out, you know. I've been slowly piecing it together, but you're a toughie, I've gotta admit. I wonder what lies behind those cold eyes of yours—"
"Be quiet." The retort was clipped and chilled. Izaya was almost surprised with himself, but then decided he didn't care.
"…Hm…" Twelve shifted. "Sorry, I'll back off. For now. Don't think you're off the hook or anything. Buuut, I do have a question for ya, if you'd care to answer."
Izaya frowned at him. "…Hah?"
The terrorist smiled a warm smile. "Do you think the word will end in fire, or in ice?"
The informant was befuddled. An intriguing question, he supposed. Not what he expected, for sure. The fact it threw him off both irritated him and quelled him all at once. Twelve was mute, waiting for a response. Izaya didn't like the quiet. He thought about the world's end. How did he think it would come to its demise? An interesting speculation. He imagined some form of war, but… "Isn't that a trick question, Twelve?" Izaya answered, tilting his head. He brought a wry smile to his face. "I see the world ending in a fiery war… but the war I imagine is built on a foundation of hatred. Vengeance—you know. The iciest of human emotions. You can't have one without the other."
"I agree," Twelve smiled. "For me… Take the greatest fire you could ever imagine. Even if the entire world was burning… after it's done… It's like the sun, once it sets it's all dark. Even if the world burned, in the end it would all turn dark and cold. Nothing but ashes, right?" He laughed lightly; quietly. Their conversation was hushed. "Thank you, by the way," he added.
"Hah? What's that about, Twelve?" Izaya quirked an eyebrow in the dark.
"You've given probably the most interesting answer yet. But..." He shrugged. "The truth is… maybe the end of the world is really just everyone's own ending. And that can be anything, depending on who someone is. How they die… But even then, I feel like fire and ice would have to be enmeshed. If you freeze to death, you feel like you're burning. If you burn alive, there comes a point where you feel nothing but coldness. Pretty amazing how that works."
"…Hm."
"Hm?" He looked at Izaya curiously.
"You… are an interesting person, too," the information broker commented with amusement.
"Maybe you're not used to someone speaking to you on your level of intelligence," Twelve suggested, and Izaya stifled his laughter at such a remark.
"Maybe," he conceded.
"I have another question, by the way," said Twelve, and Izaya looked over to him. He was admittedly glad that Twelve kept talking to him. It was… giving him something to do. It would boring just lying there, you know… "Izaya, have you ever been alone in a crowded room?"
"Hah? How do you mean?" Izaya questioned in return.
"I've been thinking about your eyes, and why it is I don't understand them. Suzuya doesn't like them, I know, and I can see where he's coming from with that. I can't see inside them, myself, which makes you even more interesting to me. But unlike Suzuya… I kinda like the way they look. They're familiar, but I couldn't figure out why. I thought of it while I was asleep, actually. See, there's Suzuya… me, and my partner… and those kids I used to know. All of them have the eyes of somebody that's been shut out from the world. I somehow feel like Celty would have those eyes too, if I could see them. But yours are always so guarded, I can't tell a single thing. What I figure, well, what if you weren't shut out from the world… but you shut yourself out?" Izaya didn't have an answer, but Twelve kept going anyway. "I don't see it as 'bad.' Maybe you were shut out, and then you chose to stay there; I don't know. Whatever the case, I respect the decision anyway. But I know what it feels like on the outside, always looking in. Maybe I'm used to it now, and watching everyone below me, I can admit I'm satisfied. But even if I'm alone in a crowded room, so to speak, I have my partner, so it's kind of okay, you know? I'm not a solo kind of guy, and because of that, I'd never leave his side. That's why I got to make it back to him – because I know we don't have much time left in the first place…
"I like to think of it this way, Izaya. Each of us has a life, see, and all of us are just sparks. Together, we can burn bright, but alone… we're only sparks, you know? I mean, it only takes a spark to start a fire, but at the same time…" Twelve shook his head. "Well, anyway… seeing the world in that observer's perspective; I know it's kinda lonely." Mouth ever upturned, he put a hand to his chest. "But… a heart can never be open until it breaks, and even if a heart is missing a piece… it can still beat."
Izaya laughed a low, cruel laugh. "Twelve, you're fighting to connect to the people around you thinking it will bring you something good. The ties of the heart, your version of 'love'… it's only going to tie you down. You're better off not being close to anyone." His mouth spread a thin smile across his features, cold eyes narrowing. "It becomes your weakness."
But Twelve, leaning back on his palms, contemplated this and answered with a simple, "…Huh." He touched his chin thoughtfully. "See, my partner, he told me the same thing," he informed Izaya. "And you know…" He smiled at the information broker slyly. "He still had me." There was a pause, and the terrorist looked up to the ceiling above him. "And you know, Izaya, I don't think I'd mind being a puppet if it meant being connected to somebody else…"
Izaya blinked, then frowned. This sounded uncannily familiar to him. He thought of middle school days spent with an oddball wearing spectacles and a lab coat.
"I mean, without at least one string holding me up," admitted Twelve, "I'm almost positive I'd lose my balance, here… Hm. You could argue that it's different because I'm the same as him, my partner, but even those who know only loneliness long for a hand to hold. Even those born in the dark long for the light. Even those who are comfortable as they fall pray for a savior. 'Inhuman' or 'human,' loved or objectified, shut out or not, we're all just people in that way. Take that for what you will." Satisfied, Twelve got to his feet, stretching. "I'm going back over to the window. Sleep well, Izaya. Don't worry, I'll throw something at ya if you start getting restless," he winked. "Wouldn't want you caught in a nightmare."
Izaya's mouth twitched. "Goodnight, Twelve."
Laughing lightly, Twelve got onto his seat, leaving Izaya behind in his shadowed silence. Somehow, the informant got the impression he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep either way. Such an action seemed very unappealing at the moment.
