Chapter 13: Izaya's 100% Foolproof 10-Step Guide on How to Get Rid of Heiwajima Shizuo

"Stupid Shizuo, stupid Shizuo, stupid Shizuo.": An amalgamation of alliteration Izaya keeps slyly hissing out in constant repetition. The cravings? Still there. The nightmares? Still leave him in despair. As for his recent plans? He's been trying to come up with a more 'permanent' solution to his Shizuo problem. After all, this is what he gets for crossing the one and only, Orihara Izaya. This is the price, death by his hand. No matter the consequence.

Because he absolutely hates Shizuo.

Which is why he wants to do everything in his power to eliminate him.

Izaya's plan, to put it simply, can be summarized in ten easy steps (for viewer convenience).

A 10 step guide on how to get rid of Heiwajima Shizuo:

Step 1: Get a gang
Step 2: Rile them up
Step 3: Convince them to go after none other than Heiwajima Shizuo
Step 4: Pray Shizuo gets shot. Or stabbed. Or both. And dies.

If Shizuo doesn't die, proceed onto...

Step 5: Lure Shizuo into a construction site
Step 6: Fill the air with toxic, flammable gas
Step 7: Shizu-chan go boom boom
Step 8: ?
Step 9: No more Shizu-chan = Happy Izaya = Profit?
Step 10: Buy ootoro to celebrate (Very crucial step, do NOT skip)

Of course the plan itself is a lot more complex than that. He has at least some stroke of luck, because for months now, he's been working on a little side project. Now might be the time to put it to good use, even if that hadn't been his initial intention at all.

It had all started a few months ago before his 'life changing' (so to say) encounter with Shizuo that had spawned the entirety of the mess he is in now. Much like the time Izaya worked closely with Kida Masaomi (only to later abandon him in his most desperate time of need), Izaya had reached out to another character he deemed interesting: the self proclaimed leader of a small gang, a young man going by the name Midoriya.

At first, the little gang had been a complete mess. Disorganized and with no clear hierarchy. Just a bunch of rowdy hooligans doing whatever they pleased. This had often resulted in them getting targeted by other gangs, or worse yet, the police. Green Dragons, they'd titled themselves. As if Ikebukuro didn't have enough color gangs already. Ah but they'd thought themselves to be so clever, so unique; the green being a mix of yellow and blue, a symbolism of wanting to surpass both the Blue Squares and the Yellow Scarves that had preceded them.

The dragon part they'd justified as something poetic, exuding the aura of being great and powerful. Izaya hadn't even bothered to mention that in reality, a Green Dragon is a mythological spirit, though mostly associated with protection. Not at all what they'd been going for when picking their name, but it hardly matters. Once Izaya's done with them they will have their rise to infamy. (And like all great civilizations, they would eventually come to their ruin).

Back then, Izaya had appeared to them like a messiah under the guise of Nakura (of course) without revealing his face, and only messaged them without speaking directly. They'd been getting picked on by some rogue Dollars members. More specifically, the ones that the Dollars' leader wouldn't approve of. They would eventually serve their purpose, as Izaya would use them to feed the fire within the corrupt Dollars, forcing Mikado to go to extremes with his purge.

Izaya's whole front revolves around pretending to be an ex-Dollars member who'd been exploited for his talents and is seeking revenge. They'd fallen for it far too easily, but Izaya had still warily kept his distance, until he'd noticed just how overly dependent on him they'd become. 'Trust' had to go both ways, after all. For him, his 'trust' had come in the form of feeding them additional information, making them even more reliant on his expertise.

Izaya had spent months guiding them; telling them things like where police are most likely to be stationed, which areas are the busiest and which ones are more secluded, how they should organize themselves, etc. So when he'd finally made his return to Ikebukuro, it had been pleasant sight for him to see the hints of green hiding in plain sight. Still a long way to go, but it had been a start.

Until Shizuo had to ruin it all. It was because of him that Izaya had lost both the time and the drive to continue with his project. Things like the destruction of his precious computer, his restlessness and lack of focus, and not to mention the time he'd wasted on being with Shizuo combined with the time spent moping around his apartment. All of it had certainly been a hindrance to his original plan, but ever since Shizuo had abandoned him like that, he's had more time to reestablish his contact with the Green Dragons.

Only to find them in complete disarray again.

They'd gotten too cocky, too absorbed in their power, believing they could accomplish even greater things without Izaya's guidance. How foolish of them to think so. They'd failed, and Izaya had been left picking up the pieces.

Slowly and steadily throughout the course of the week, Izaya had focused on rebuilding his relationship with them, chatting up the young Midoriya kid in order to twist him into his desired shape. Now he has him eating out of the palm of his hand again, and it's time to move on to the second part of his master plan.

It's time for everything to come together.

So, he types up his next message.

[Ah well, if you want to prove that you rule the city then I suppose you would really have to show people who's boss. You would have to do something extravagant to make sure people would never mess with you]

He writes. His language may be casual and colloquial but it's better that way. They already see him as a 'friend', a tight knit relationship if you will.

[And what would that be, Nakura-san?] is the reply.

Izaya smirks at his computer screen. His fingers fly fast over his keyboard.

[Challenging a strong icon of Ikebukuro to a fight and winning could be a possibility. Someone who people revere as being unbeatable. If you can manage to beat them, the whole town will respect you]

[Who then? Who is the strongest?]

[That's always a tricky question. Of course you guys are ^^ But you can't fight yourselves, can you?]

A little ego boosting to butter them up, before proceeding to ask the impossible.

[I suppose there's that bulky guy who works in Russia Sushi. He looks pretty strong, but he never fights. Ah, there's also one other guy. People talk about him a lot. Blond hair, bartender. What was his name again? Hanejima? Harujima?]

[Heiwajima Shizuo?]

[Yes! That's the one]

[Can we really take him down?]

[Totally! I bet he's not even as strong as people make him out to be]

[I don't know, people say he's capable of ripping up light poles from the ground]

[Have you seen him do it yourselves?]

[No but…]

[I bet it's all just baseless rumors then. How can a normal human be able to do that?]

Right, Shizu-chan? A normal human wouldn't be able to do that. Except you aren't human. You're a monster, a plague, an anomaly that deserves to be wiped off the face of the earth.

[You're right Nakura-san!]

[Plus, it's all of you guys versus one person. He'll never have the chance. Just think of how the news would carry. "Green Dragons slay the strongest man in Ikebukuro". Or better yet, "Green Dragons slay the strongest former Dollars member"]

And just like that, the pieces are all laid out across the board and ready to be moved. The pawn goes there, rook goes right and look at that, they have the king surrounded. Izaya points his finger at the said king and keeps it there, hovering over the chess piece with just the tip of his fingernail grazing the wooden piece. Soon, he thinks and flicks the piece so that it topples over.

He returns to his computer and proceeds to give out specific instructions masked as helpful suggestions. Where Shizuo might be, what time would be the best to strike, etc. A specific time, a specific place, and all Izaya has to do is head on over to Ikebukuro to witness it; to see the downfall of the biggest nuisance in his life.

All he has to do now is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And he can hardly wait. He's already so giddy.

"Namie-san~," he sings, calling for his secretary. She doesn't respond initially so he calls out again and she emerges from the other end of the apartment.

"What?" she asks, exasperated. He jumps up from his chair with an excited grin.

"Get your coat on, we're going out," he chimes. She places her hands on her hips and shifts her weight to the side.

"Why?" she pesters. He skips over to her and stops just in front of her before clasping his hands together.

"Because hopefully, we will witness history in the making~"

-.-.-.-.-

Roughly half an hour later and he's perched on the rooftop edge of a tall building, looking down at the city below. Namie is a few paces behind him, continuously rolling her eyes and muttering something about how much she doesn't want to be there while clutching her elbows because of the cold. He has to admit, it is a little chilly, but when his heart is beating this fast, he hardly cares.

He brings a pair of binoculars up to his eyes and stares intently at the scene below. It's already dark out but he can still make out the figures below illuminated faintly by the street lights. Shizuo walking peacefully, alone and unaware of what will hit him. Of course, Izaya has his doubts about the gang's capabilities but it's still worth a shot, especially since Shizuo looks just about as tired as Izaya feels most of the time.

Then it happens, a plethora of green surrounding the former bartender. Izaya inches closer to the ledge, almost to the point of falling off. His smile twists and turns into something malicious, something absolutely wretched. A part of him hopes that this will be Shizuo's end, and a part of him hopes it's not, if only so he can finish the job himself.

"I hate violence" Izaya says in tandem to the movement of Shizuo's lips. That doesn't deter the group from coming after him. They rush him in a swarm and Shizuo, expectantly, fights them all back as if they are just clumps of dust falling around him. But with an entire crowd surrounding him, each with a weapon, even a monster like Shizuo gets a few scratches here and there.

"Namie-san, come, come, you're missing all the fun," Izaya hums and briefly looks back at her just for one moment, only to see her staring intently at her phone (presumably at pictures of Seiji).

"Not interested," she mutters back. Izaya doesn't want to spend any more time trying to convince her. He has bigger things to worry about. He sharply turns his head to where Shizuo is only to see him very clearly and very distinctly staring in his direction. Izaya freezes. There's no possible way Shizuo can see him in the dead of night and so far away, is there?

"I-ZA-YA." Shizuo's loud scream pierces through the cold air.

And then, Shizuo gets stabbed.

And Izaya drops his binoculars.

In an instant, a sharp pain slices through his stomach. He shudders, reeling forward and clutching his gut tightly. It hurts. Like a knife twisting and turning, slicing through his internal organs and turning them into mush. He groans out in pain, vision turning spotty and blurry, his mind going hazy and disoriented.

Why? Why does it hurt so much?

The pain keeps persisting, making him feel cold and weak. The chilly winter air isn't doing him any favors either. The continuous prickles have him groaning out over and over like a broken record to the point it gets hard to breathe, as if his lungs are two untied balloons hissing out the air. He grips the ledge of the rooftop.

Fuck, he can't do this.

His arms feel weak and his legs are slowly losing feeling, turning into gelatin without sufficient strength to keep him standing. He drops to his knees, unable to keep himself upright. A sharp jolt shoots up his kneecaps the moment he collides with the concrete, a pain that pulsates all the way up to his thighs. He winces and groans out again, head spinning around and around. It's as if he's being thrown left and right in a loop of never ending seasickness, like a sailor stuck on a rocking boat in the middle of a storm.

He needs help.

"N-Namie," he retches quietly. There's no response. Still probably too absorbed in her phone.

"Namie." He repeats a little louder this time, just barely audible enough for the sound to carry across the open rooftop.

"Wh.. th.. fuck?" her voice resonates in his ears, along with the nimble pitter-patter of her heels click-clacking as she rushes over to him.

"Iz.. wha...hell? Wh.. mat...ter?" He still can't quite make out what she's saying. It's all just a mess of an echo in his head. He can barely even keep his vision focused, much less his hearing. He can feel her sharp fingernails digging into his shoulders through the fabric of his coat, but he just keeps shaking his head, blinking rapidly to clear the spots dancing across his vision.

"My- I- MMmm dying," he groans. Fuck, it hurts. It hurts so much he can't take it. He feels the corners of his eyes start stinging with the familiar sensation of tears, slowly breaking free and descending down his cheeks. He starts to go into a full panic, his breath becoming more labored than before.

"Yo…ot." Those same hands that had been holding his shoulders now suddenly press harder, sharp talons digging in to the point they might pierce his skin, even though his winter jacket. Suddenly he's lurching forward again, this time not of his own accord. Then back. Then forward again. Till he feels the return of the bile rising up his throat, burning his esophagus.

"Izaya, you're not. Get a grip on yourself," Namie says sternly. Her voice is a bit clearer but still distorted as she forces his body to move, turning him into a bobble head doll.

"MHMM gonna…throw…up," he moans and Namie immediately stops shaking him.

"Izaya!" she screams as he goes limp against her hold. Her voice is like a shrill drill piercing straight through his skull.

"Don't…don't shout," he murmurs and leans his head forward, closing his eyes if only to drift away into the dark void of nothingness; if only to become absolutely numb and stop feeling this pain. He's pulled out of the abyss by her cold hands grabbing a hold of his flushed cheeks. He reopens his eyes slowly only to gaze at Namie's thin scowl.

"Is this another one of your practical jokes?" She hisses out, her expression stone-faced and serious. If not for the fact that Namie is still holding his cheeks, he would have shaken his head as his reply. Instead, he's forced to verbally utter it.

"N-no," he stutters. He can't even come up with a proper explanation for his actions. All he knows is the pulsating ripples of pain tearing through his gut.

"It just..hurts… it hurts so much…"

Namie sighs, troubled, and releases his cheeks. Without thinking much, or thinking at all really, Izaya leans forward and rests his forehead against Namie's shoulder before wrapping his arms around her waist into an awkward hug. The sharp pain in his stomach persists, so right now all he needs is at least some form of comfort, even if he would never admit it out loud.

Just something to hold onto, to anchor himself to, to stop the ever constant rocking. She reciprocates his hold, tentatively wrapping her arms around his shoulders and giving him a small pat on the back. She doesn't address the sudden display of affection nor does she say anything for at least a few minutes, giving Izaya the time to calm down and try to deal with the pain. In those few minutes, he feels the pain ease up slightly, but not to the point of disappearing entirely. At that point, he peels away from her and mentally pretends their embrace had never occurred.

"Where does it hurt?" she asks softly. He looks down, his bangs falling over his eyes and making his expression appear even darker.

"Here," he mumbles as he runs his hand over his shirt across his stomach, just barely grazing it with a feather-light touch. She stares at him, her gaze falling to the area he's covering with the palm of his hand. Then, she speaks.

"Alright, I'm calling for an ambulance," she states flatly. It takes Izaya a moment to fully register what she'd said. He swears he's so out of it that he actually thinks he'd heard Namie say she wants to call an ambulance, despite knowing full well the extent of his disdain towards hospitals. Except the serious expression she'd donning tells him otherwise.

"No, I'm fine," he quickly lies. Though she already has her phone in her hand, her thumb hovering over the number pad. Izaya shakily lifts his hand and covers her screen with his palm, preventing her from pressing any numbers.

"I don't need to go to a hospital." His voice is a little louder this time, and though surely it should sound more confident, it comes off being the opposite; shaky and muffled.

"Something is clearly bothering you, and given the location of your pain, I believe it might even be appendicitis. Which, if untreated, could kill you," she scolds, crossing her arms over her bust.

"I suppose you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Comes his dry reply, followed by a sardonic grin. She scowls, her face scrunching up to the point Izaya can clearly see each defined wrinkle.

"And then who would write my paychecks?" she grumbles.

"Figures that's all you'd be interested in," he sighs in response, his voice quiet and melancholy. He should have expected that the only thing the shrewd woman would want out of him is her reimbursement for her time. Namie doesn't deny his claim and instead shifts the subject back to Izaya's health. She presses her hand against his forehead before he has time even to think about flinching away.

"At least you don't have a fever, even if your skin is clammy and you look whiter than a sheet. I'm telling you, if it's appendicitis-." He cuts her off with his hand.

By now, Izaya's mind is a little clearer. All in a flash, the ghost pain disappears just as quickly as it had appeared. He can't hear any more sounds from the ground below and he briefly tilts his head to look over the ledge, only to see splatters of blood and a pile of people dressed in green trying to collect themselves.

But Shizuo is nowhere to be seen.

"It's not. And trust me, a hospital wouldn't be able to help me. Not with this," he says. He already knows the cause of his ailment. It's the only thing that makes sense. Which is saying a lot, because nearly nothing makes sense. The feeling of a knife twisting in his gut at the same time as Shizuo getting stabbed? Could it be any more obvious?

Truthfully, a part of Izaya had already suspected this would happen. That same part, however, had not accounted for the intensity of the pain he would be in.

"Oh and do pray tell what this is, Mr. Medical Professional?" Namie's words snap him back to reality.

"This is because of…Shizu-chan," he answers. Though it's not much of an explanation at all and leaves her feeling even more perplexed than before.

"Heiwajima-san?" She stares at him, her face twisting in confusion. Not like she'd been paying any attention anyway, but as far as she's concerned, Shizuo had been on the ground below and hadn't come after Izaya in the entirety of the time they'd spent on the rooftop.

"It's complicated. I'll explain later…maybe. I just… let's go back for now, ne?" he says as he straightens. He hopes that it's the end of his suffering for the evening. He hopes, thought things never turn out how he hopes they would.

-.-.-.-

A short cab ride later and he's entering his apartment, perched on Namie's shoulder as she helps him inside. He's still a little jolted as he takes off his coat and turns to Namie once it's off.

"Help me up the stairs?" he asks. She scowls.

"If you still feel bad then I'm calling-"

"Please?" he pleads, cutting her off.

A small moment of hesitation, and then, with a small groan, she complies. She slides her hand around his waist and uses the other to sling his arm over her shoulder in order to help him stand. He's thankful at least that now the pain is nothing more than a steady pulse, as opposed to feeling like his guts have been ripped open. He mostly slides his feet along and barely manages to lift them high enough to take individual steps. Namie does most of the work for him, dragging him along to the best of her ability.

She mutters something about not being paid enough for all the shit she does and Izaya manages a dry chuckle, muttering something in response about upping her salary yet again. Finally, he makes it to the bed and unceremoniously falls onto his mattress before Namie helps him under the covers and tucks him in like a mother would do to a child. If he wasn't feeling so awful he might have even asked her to read him a bedtime story.

"Thank you," he says softly. She gives him a nod and exits his room. As soon as she's gone, he straightens out his body and lays on his back, trying to ignore the minuscule jolts of pain. He still has some pain medication left over from the time Shinra had prescribed them to him. He wonders if he should perhaps take one. Or two. Or three, depending if the first two would help at all. Assuming that they would serve their purpose. He isn't sure. How does one combat pain that technically isn't even real in the first place?

His thoughts are cut short as Namie reenters his room, startling him with the sight of her holding a mug in one hand and a hot water bottle in the other. She notices him staring at her.

"Chamomile. Should make you feel a bit better," she explains as she sets the mug down on the bedside table. She then gently places the hot water bottle on top of the duvet covers where Izaya's stomach is.

He knows it won't help in the slightest. He knows, yet still offers her a small smile.

"Thank you."

She leaves promptly after and Izaya snuggles into the water bottle, enjoying the little burst of heat to his otherwise shivering body. It's crazy to think that just a few hours ago he'd been hunched over forward with the feeling of his guts spilling out, and now? Now it's nothing more than a distant memory. A memory he should just forget, yet at the same time, can't stop thinking about. What if Shizuo had actually died? What kind of pain would he have felt then?

His thoughts are interrupted by Namie bursting in again.

This time, she's accompanied by the annoying buzzing of the vibrating cell phone in her hand. He focuses on the device. It's his phone. Oh, right. He'd left it in his coat pocket.

"You have a call," she says curtly, as if Izaya doesn't have eyeballs to see with. Though given how he'd been unable to hear her, it isn't a long shot off assuming he'd have other complications that would restrict his senses due to this…this thing. Izaya clutches the water bottle and presses it deeper into his waist.

"From who?" he asks. Namie squints at the screen and reads off the caller ID.

"From…" she scowls.

"Shizu-chan"

Izaya's eyes go wide.

"Shizu-chan?"

"Shizu-chan."

"Shizu-chan?"

"That's what it says on the screen. Shizu-chan with a stupid heart emoji. Now are you going to answer it or not because I don't have time for guessing games," she scowls. Izaya holds out his hand.

"Just give it here," he instructs and she puts the still ringing phone into his hand. Before the ringing can cease, Izaya presses the call button and Namie abruptly turns to leave, clearly not wanting to witness the conversation. As soon as Izaya brings the phone up to his ear, he's suddenly struck with a sharp pain again. He stifles a gasp by biting his bottom lip.

No, no, not again. For fuck's sake, not again.

That same sharp stinging; he can't even say a single word because of it. The other end of the line is silent too, spare for the sound of strangled breathing. Then finally he hears Shizuo's voice, low and rugged.

"It was you, wasn't it? You bastard."

Izaya blinks a few times, trying to clear his head and ignore the pain.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific if you want an answer out of me, Shizu-chan," Izaya murmurs. It's a miracle he'd even managed to utter that much, considering it feels as if he has poison coursing through his veins, killing him slowly with each passing second.

"Don't play dumb. You sent that fucking gang after me, didn't you?" Despite the few sharp gasps of pain here and there, Shizuo's voice still sounds as angry as ever. Izaya is still a little dazed but at least he remembers what his original plan had been.

"Ah, right. I suppose I did," he mutters all too casually.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? I got stabbed because of you!" Comes Shizuo's yell and Izaya flinches back from the volume. His head is already starting to throb again, and Shizuo shouting at him really isn't helping.

"Oh you did now, did you? That must have hurt a lot," he replies a little bitterly. But what Izaya is bitter about is the fact that he'd made a terrible mistake. He'd miscalculated, and now has to suffer the consequences.

Izaya can hear some shuffling and a voice in the background, presumably Shinra's, telling Shizuo to just sit still and calm down. Then he feels another prickle at his stomach. He figures that at this point, it's probably Shinra disinfecting the wound, and Izaya just so happens to be stuck feeling the same exact sensation as Shizuo.

"FUCK YOU! That wound was nearly fatal. I could have died!"

But he hadn't, and Izaya already knows that. He knows that because otherwise, he's sure he would have felt it.

"Ah, I suppose you could have. Yet here we are, with you clearly still alive and well," Izaya says, a tone bordering on dry sarcasm.

"You fucking flea just wait until I come over there and exterminate you like the fucking pest you are." Shizuo's words fly out in such a quick burst that they meld together, making him almost incomprehensible, but Izaya gets the gist of it. Though at this point, he's past the point of truly caring. He just wants this misery to end. And hopefully, if Shizuo does come to kill him, he will also experience the same pain and drop dead as well.

"Sure thing Shizu-chan, be my guest." Izaya doesn't intend his words to come off as sarcastic but Shizuo probably interprets it that way.

"What, you think this is funny? Of fucking course you do, you sick, twisted fuck. Taking pleasure in other people's suffering."

And to this, Izaya can't help but start giggling slightly, even if each small laugh sends pain ripping through his body. He laughs not at the scenario of Shizuo getting stabbed and almost dying. He laughs not at the inconvenience it must have brought him. His laugh is pitiful, hopeless even. He's laughing at the stupidity of it all. He's laughing at himself for being so foolish.

Not at Shizuo. No. He's just trying to laugh the pain away.

"No, Shizuo. That's not quite right. Not in the slightest," Izaya utters after having calmed down. Under normal circumstances, Izaya would revel in the prospect of Shizuo being injured in one way or another. He'd love to explore the beast's capabilities and see just how much it would take to finally end his pathetic existence.

Under. Normal. Circumstances.

But there isn't a single thing about this that's normal. For once, Izaya does something unexpected. Something he'd never be caught doing, much less to Shizuo. Something that would have otherwise even shocked himself if not for the sheer exhaustion he feels over the entirety of the situation already.

"It's not funny that I sent those people after you, and for that, I apologize." He apologizes, his voice quiet and sincere.

"Wait, what?" Shizuo hisses back.

"I said I was sorry."

Silence follows, so quiet that one could hear a pin drop. Izaya wonders if perhaps Shizuo had hung up on him. He pulls the phone away to check only to see that the line is still connected.

"Shizu-chan?" he asks. Still more silence. Izaya narrows his eyes. He doesn't want to deal with this anymore. His thumb is already hovering over the 'end call' button, inching closer and closer. He's about to press it when Shizuo speaks again.

"You're fucking with me right now, aren't you?" He growls. His voice had lost some of the initial edge to it. It's quieter and less angry than before.

"I assure you I'm not"

"That's-"

"And if that will be all, then I'll be going now. Get better soon and try to avoid getting into more fights, ne? Bye-bye now."

Izaya doesn't wait for Shizuo to respond. He hangs up the phone and throws it on the other side of the bed.

"Stupid Shizuo, stupid Shizuo, stupid Shizuo." The amalgamation of alliteration slips out past his lips in constant repetition as he begins plotting his next move.