Chapter 14: Fortune Doesn't Favor Fools

.-.-.-.

"You look more depressed than usual," Namie's monotone voice snaps Izaya's attention away from his computer. He watches her hands absentmindedly as she places a cup on his desk, and he gives her only a small grunt of acknowledgement in response. He know why she would say so. For over a week now, his face had been set in a permanent scowl. His mood has been so low that he doesn't even feel like bothering her, nor does he feel like having any company at all. His last 'encounter' with Shizuo had left a rather sour taste in his mouth and on this day he feels particularly off color. At least he's not in pain a anymore, and that seems to be the only positive thing that had happened all week.

"I'm not depressed," he finally mutters out as he takes the cup in between his palms, enjoying the sweet prickle of heat dancing across his fingertips, alongside the herbal aroma of the tea.

"I didn't say you were, just that you look like it," Namie retorts as Izaya brings the cup of hot liquid up to his lips and takes a tentative sip. He flinches back slightly from the heat, but luckily doesn't burn his tongue. Although, he does take notice of the tea's sweet flavour.

"You added sugar," he comments. She shrugs her shoulders.

"You started drinking it with sugar, so why wouldn't I? Is there a problem with it?" She asks, though it isn't hard to tell she doesn't really care much for his enjoyment of the beverage. Her statement is more like a challenge and a warning, informing him that she's not going remake the tea if he doesn't like it.

"No, there isn't. I like it," he states and blows on the tea to cool it before taking another sip.

There is a pause as he looks at her, expecting her to take her leave now so that he may return to typing on his computer. She does no such thing.

"Did you...eat the Christmas dinner I left you?" she asks. Izaya stares at her blankly, seemingly having forgotten all about it by now. He'd already had so much on his mind.

"Ah right, about that. I forgot about it actually. Sorry," he confesses. Izaya normally isn't the type to apologise or care about hurting others' emotions. He wouldn't normally feel bad over disregarding a kind gesture from someone he could consider himself being 'close to'. Namie, additionally, isn't the type to care about such trivial things, or him for that matter. Yet for a moment, Izaya swears that he can see a hurt look flash across her eyes. And for a moment, he feels just a small pang of guilt.

He doesn't say anything though, and neither does she. An awkward silence falls between them, in which Namie turns sharply on her heel and walks away, and Izaya shifts his attention back to his screen. They both return to work, pretending the encounter between them had never occurred.

Even after all this time, Izaya still hasn't been able to find a solution to his predicament. Every last website, every last scholarly article, even a few visits to the dark web, the deep web, the spider web, and still nothing. He feels as if he's exhausted every last possible resource. Ever since his last plan had gone to ruin, he's been stuck in a slump, effectively ignoring his little side project he'd worked so tirelessly now and just letting the messages spam one of his multiple phones (not like he takes notice, it's on silent mode). He's nearing giving up when a message appears on his screen.

[Heard you were looking into soulmates, is that right Orihara-san?]

Izaya narrows his eyes, staring at the array of words written in the message. Of course, out of all the people who would choose to contact him, it just has to be the one who is on par with Shizuo in terms of getting under Izaya's skin.

[That's private information.]

He writes back. The instant he sends the message, he gets a reply, almost as if the other person on the other side of the screen was an automated bot, or simply knew what Izaya was going to type even before he sent his message.

[I might have someone of interest to you. Feel free to pay them a visit]

Underneath the message is a picture of a business card.

[マダムネル]

The name reads. As for the profession?

Psychic.

Izaya scoffs. This has to be a practical joke. He's never ever heard of this person before, nor has he ever come across this address. Of course, Izaya isn't omniscient and has no way of knowing anything until he decides to scope the place out. Quickly switching over to his web browser, he looks up the address. The search results are so minimal it's laughable. No website, hardly any information, just a picture of the location as long as the name of the establishment. Not even a contact number. Either this place is a very badly run business, or there's something more sinister going on. Knowing him and his line of business, he'd be more shocked if it was the former.

Either way, what does he have to lose? Time? He's already wasted enough time searching for a way out and with no results. He'd only be losing more time letting this thing play out it's course. Perhaps he'll finally be able to find the answer he's been looking for. Besides, a little fresh air might do him some good.

Izaya snorts. He really must be desperate, going to a psychic and all. With a small sigh, he takes a post it note and scribbles down the address. He then gets up and goes over to Namie, handing her the note.

"Here. I'm going to this place. If I don't come back by the end of the day, feel free to throw a party since I'll most likely have been killed or kidnapped," he says with a hint of sarcasm. She takes it and skims over it, before shoving it into her pocket.

"Gee, thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

-.-.-.-.-

The moment Izaya steps out of the train, he's instantly hit with a cold gust hitting him straight in the face. He shivers and breathes in the humid air, scrunching his face in disgust at the smell of seawater in the atmosphere coming in from the nearby port. He wastes no more time and starts walking, placing one foot in front of the other with purpose until he reaches his destination. He finds himself standing in front of a small staircase that descends down into a lowered foundation. As for the building, it's a little shoddy and run down, with faded paint peeling from the walls and a rickety old sign attached only by a single chain.

[Madam Neru's Fortune Telling Service]

He manages to read, despite the constant swinging. He rolls his eyes. What a joke. An hour of public transport just for this? To be standing in the cold, humid air of Yokohama, teeth chattering and body shivering, with his nose scrunched as much as humanly possible. Every part of him is screaming to just turn around and go back home. If this fortune teller was anyone of importance, surely Izaya would have heard of them before. Perhaps if he wasn't so desperate, he would find some alternative option. Now, he doesn't have a choice. He's already travelled this far. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? He'd be stabbed and killed? Even that sounded like a more tempting fate than being cursed to suffer through Shizuo's mood swings, and he does find some comfort in the idea, knowing Shizuo would experience his pain.

With a huff, he hops down all three stairs at once. He wraps his sleeve around his hand, twists the rusty doorknob and pushes the door open, only to immediately be greeted with the sound of jingling chimes hanging above the door. The interior isn't much better than the exterior, with the only exception being that the purple paint isn't peeling off the walls like outside. The style of the shop isn't particularly appealing either. Drapes hang around every doorway instead of doors, and the reception area has a desk stacked with various knickknacks and a burned out incense stick.

Just his luck, there is no one behind the desk and instead there is one of those little bells. So, someone is supposed to appear on command. Heh. Izaya rings the bell. One minute, he thinks. That's how long he's willing to wait for someone to show up. One minute, then he swears to himself he will leave.

Just 50 more seconds.

38.

25.

17.

10.

9.

8.

Just as his mental timer hits zero, a young woman emerges from past a set of colourful drapes. Right on cue, he supposes, though he could have gone without wasting that precious minute of his life.

"Hello and welcome. How can I help you today? Do you have an appointment?" She asks politely. Her dialect has a slight accent to it and given her appearance, it's no wonder she doesn't talk like a native speaker. What gives it away is the light chestnut color of her hair, tied high in a ponytail, along with the striking green of her round eyes. She doesn't look like the typical fortune teller either, dressed casually in a white blouse and black pants. The receptionist, Izaya figures.

"I'm afraid I don't have one, but I was led here by an acquaintance of mine in regards to a matter concerning sou-" she promptly cuts him off with the sound of her hands clasping together.

"Wait, don't tell me. I already know. Please, follow me. I'll fit you in before my next reading," she says cheerfully as she reaches out to grab his hand. He's hesitant at best, watching her with a narrowed gaze, but doesn't stop her from grabbing his wrist. A part of him is curious and allows it, only because he knows foreigners are typically a little more open and forward with their actions. He decides to entertain this woman, his free hand already in his pocket and gripping his knife in case she might try something questionable.

So far so good. She merely guides him to a table covered in cheap tablecloth and asks him to sit as she goes to fumble around with the drawers of a nearby cabinet. Well, it seems that she is not the receptionist after all. Izaya isn't particularly interested in fortune telling. He finds it fascinating as a concept humans like to toy around with, but he doesn't believe in such things himself. Fate, destiny, being able to foresee the future. Well, the last one is something he's capable of doing. Humans are so predictable, after all. It's a matter of smooth talking and psychology. He's more curious about which direction this precious little human decides to go in.

"I suppose you're Madame Neru then?" He asks, a little skeptical. She spins around and nods her head enthusiastically. Izaya takes notice of the stack of cards in her hand.

"Yes, that's me. And you are?" She asks as she sits opposite of him and starts shuffling the stack of cards in her hands. Surely if she really were psychic, she should know that, shouldn't she? Izaya bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Nakura," he introduces himself with his fake identity. She stops shuffling for a moment and stares at him, as if doubting his integrity. Then her face breaks into a grin, leaving Izaya to wonder if he'd just imagined her skepticism towards him.

"Alright then, Nakura -san. Shall we get started?" She asks. Her exuberance is enough to make even Izaya squirm in his seat, overwhelmed. It's a little unnerving... because she's looking at him the same way Izaya looks at people: like an interesting specimen under a microscope. He clears his throat.

"As I started saying before, I have a few questions I'd like to ask on behalf of a...client of mine," he starts. For the first time in perhaps forever, he doesn't know how to go about this. With his heart rate slightly elevated, it's easy to recognise he's nervous. Nervous and irritated, as he notices she isn't paying attention to what he'd just said at all and ignores his inquiry all together.

"Why don't we see what the cards have in store for you?" She asks instead as she spreads the cards out on the table in front of him into three separate piles. Izaya quirks an eyebrow. He'd very clearly stated he needs information for a client , not himself, so he doesn't understand why she's talking about him.

"I don't need a reading," he states bluntly and she answers him with a smile.

"Why don't we see anyway," she persists. He rolls his eyes. Whatever. He decides to entertain her. He's a little familiar with fortune telling, having done some research, but not enough to know absolutely everything about it. It's unlike him to be in such a position of uncertainty. Luckily for him, she continues speaking.

"The top card of this pile is a representation of you and your relationship with yourself," she explains as she taps the first pile, then moves onto the second one.

"This card is a representation of your relationship with love and how you approach it."

Finally, the last pile.

"The last card is a representation of your relationship with the people around you, like friends and family," she finishes and withdraws her hand.

"Go ahead and flip the first card," she instructs and sits back. Izaya sighs slightly and stiffens his posture. Everything is a learning experience, right? Keeping a straight face, he flips over the first card and places it upright on the stack underneath. The card itself depicts and image of a woman in bed, clutching her head in despair as an array of swords hang behind her on the wall.

Izaya's knowledge of tarot cards is limited to being able to recognise them and that's about it. He's familiar with some meanings but he's not an expert fortune teller. No point in wasting time learning about simple glorified facial cues and psychology.

"The Nine of Swords in the upright position means that at the current moment in your life, you have a lot of anxiety. You suffer from unresolved trauma and haven't been able to let it go. Restless nights with frequent nightmares might sound familiar," she explains, her expression suddenly becoming serious and deadpan in sharp contrast to her previously cheerful disposition. He'd expected this; for her words to be relatively vague. That's how fortune tellers often spin their clients.

"Ah, but don't fret. There's hope for your situation. Instead of pushing others away, you could find someone to share your grief with…" she trails. Izaya discreetly rolls his eyes. She's already wrong. He doesn't even push anyone away, and he certainly doesn't have any unresolved trauma. What's even more ridiculous is the fact that he's sitting there, waiting, wondering what other bullshit she will spout next with only the tiniest slivers of hope in his heart, anticipating the moment she tells him something of use that would actually help him break the curse between him and Shizuo.

Then the next card comes, which she instructs Izaya to flip over, and he does. This time, the card is upside down. The image is a depiction of a man and a woman, standing in a garden together. A snake is coiled around one of the apple trees, and an angel descends from above with her outstretched hands, giving the couple her blessing. Izaya clicks his tongue against his teeth. He could do without the religious symbolism. What's more, he could do without the whole card in general. 'The Lovers', the intricate cursive writing on the bottom of the card reads.

"This card usually indicates a willingness to open and give yourself fully to a loved one. It represents a relationship based on true cohesiveness, a union of balanced forces and complementing energies. A little like opposites attracting, in your case. If you're able to see past that, you'll have an intense relationship with whoever your lover may be. Opposites that may not be so opposite, after all," she explains. It's at this point that Izaya gets a little more sceptical. This scenario feels too rehearsed, as if she's being fed lines to regurgitate back at him. He starts telling himself that, while at the same time another part of him grows more convinced, as if falling prey to some sort of illusory truth effect.

Heh. Who is she kidding? Just the mere thought of being intimate with Shizuo on such a raw and emotional level makes his stomach twist into knots.

"That's- That's not something I care about. I want to know how to break the damn bond, not strengthen it," he stutters out.

"Break it? Why ever would you want to break something as wonderful as that? To have such a bond with someone is a one in a million chance. How lucky you must be to have someone be so devoted to you. It's like a dream," she protests. Hearing those words has Izaya chewing the inside of his cheek. When had he gotten to the point of not denying he's seeking out information for himself and not an associate? He doesn't know. He sinks further and further into his seat, feeling his stomach churning into uncomfortable knots. Luck? Devotion? A dream? More like a nightmare. Besides, it's not like Shizuo feels that way to begin with, given their history. Shizuo has left him for some woman. And Izaya had him stabbed for it. Just another thing to add to the bad blood between them.

Apparently, Madame Neru is not only a psychic but also a mind reader. That, or she's an expert body language analyst.

"Oh darling, don't fret. It's natural for you to think so. Reversed lovers can mean an unrequited love." Izaya purses his lips at her response, his eyebrows curling together, a little agitated.

"I don't give a shit because there isn't anyone I love. Especially not that damn brute. Besides, as I said, this isn't about me. I'm just looking for information." Admittedly Izaya could have handled the situation a little better, but given how knocked off balance this woman had made him feel, he's starting to lose his cool. She smirks at him, a wild twinkle in her eye.

"Of course, upside down lovers can also indicate a reluctance to accept your own feelings. Instead, you become closed off and bottle your emotions. So what's stopping you from truly admitting that, Nakura-San? Isn't this why you came here in the first place?" She pesters, and Izaya scrunches his nose in absolute disgust. He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off.

"Perhaps the unrequited love is from your side. Perhaps you are so deeply in denial you are too blind to see the other person's feelings," she finishes. Izaya stiffens. He can feel his cheeks growing hot, but not due to embarrassment. Rather due to sheer anger. That's the most blatant, flat out untrue serving of false hope anyone could ever possibly dish out. Are fortune tellers supposed to be this blunt and pushy?

He thinks back to Shizuo turning the corner with that blonde woman, to their strange outing during Christmas, to all those hateful things he'd said, all the things he'd tried to get Shizuo killed. He remembers the dejected look in Shizuo's eyes as he'd said goodbye, and the rage filled way he'd yelled Izaya's name weeks later.

To start over.

The idea pops up again and a bitter scowl worms it's way over his lips. Without thinking, Izaya takes his pocket knife and stabs the pile of cards straight through the center, creating a wedge between the two lovers with his blade.

"Fuck this," he says and stands up abruptly, knocking over the remainder of the cards and sending them to scatter over the floor. The fortune teller is unfazed and Izaya already knows going there had been a mistake. Her next statement only confirms his suspicion.

"Leaving so soon, Orihara-san?' Izaya stops dead in his tracks. Already on his way to the door, he turns, putting on a sly and sarcastic mask.

"What reason is there for me to stay when you haven't said a single thing of value to me? Oh, but maybe you already knew that," he spits out. He watches as she dons a sad smile.

"You may not believe me, but only time will tell. You'll see."

"Yes, well. We will see about that ," he retorts with a bitter smirk and twirls on his heel, promptly exiting the room as Madam Neru gives her last piece of advice.

"Oh wait, before you go you should really buy co-" He doesn't hear the rest of her words because he's already long out the door and back in the chilly, humid air of Yokohama.

.-.-.-.-.

"-cold medicine." Is what Madam Neru had been trying to say before Izaya had stormed out. She sighs deeply as she bends to pick up one of the scattered cards. A black card with the image of a white horse. Upon it the harbinger of doom, Death itself in shining armour holding up a black flag with a white sigil.

Funny how such an ominous card can have such a positive meaning. It is not the end of life, but the beginning of a new one. Death signifies a major change in and the possibility to move onward. Perhaps if Orihara-san were to accept this change in his life, he could come to be a more caring individual. And perhaps he wouldn't be so bitter all the time, with some friends to help him along the way.

At least, that's what the fortune teller thinks.