Author's Note: In-chapter crossover with Steins;Gate—don't worry, you don't have to know anything about the series! It takes place a few years after Steins;Gate is over.
Characters: Kyoko Mogami, Izaya Orihara, Takenori Sawara, Namie Yagiri
Steins;Gate Guest Characters: Rumiho Akiha (Feyris Nyannyan), Rintarou Okabe (Hououin Kyouma), Kurisu Makise
Chapter 8: In Which Izaya Pleases People Just Because (That Is, For the Love of Humanity, or So He Says), and Otherwise Fails at Life
The next morning, Kyoko received news of a schedule conflict, so she rushed to Sawara-san's office to find a solution.
"Sawara-san! Sawara-san! I've—!" She stopped short.
There was Izaya Orihara, arguing with Sawara about how he had been working for three weeks and there hadn't been a single acting job yet. He was waving his arms and stalking around a bit, and at first Kyoko thought he was throwing papers up into the air every which way—he wasn't; when she came closer, she realized that the morning light slanting through the office blinds and hitting Izaya's moving arms with bars of shadows, which was what had fooled her eyes. It was still a compelling illusion, and Kyoko had to remind herself several times that the scene wasn't quite what it looked like.
Kyoko was about to tiptoe away, but Sawara spotted her and motioned her over. At first Izaya looked about to burst with objections, but then he wisely stepped aside and went quiet. Standing tall, Kyoko walked past him quickly and stood in front of Sawara's desk.
"Yes, sir?" Nervous, Kyoko passed a file of documents from one hand to the next, and finally clasped it with both hands behind her back.
Sawara coughed. "What do you have to talk to me about, Kyoko?"
"Um, sir," she said, holding out the file, "I have a schedule conflict, sir."
Sawara sighed softly and took the file. "Can't it be helped?"
Kyoko bent forward, rather tense. "No, sir. I'm sorry, LME hasn't been busy lately, so I asked around for auditions to go to. One of them happens at the same time as the comedy show role."
Sawara flicked through the file, judging every addition critically. "These are all quite good," said Sawara. "I approve. I'm sorry we haven't been able to keep you busy lately. Could you just go to the other ones, and skip the one that happens at the same time as the comedy show filming?"
Kyoko shook her head. "I'd really hate to. That one is the role I'm most interested in."
Sawara looked it over, and rubbed his chin. "Thought so. I can see why that one would appeal to you. If you achieved it, are you sure you can handle it? It's a big one."
It was a version of Beauty and the Beast, and Kyoko was trying out for the role of Belle.
"Yes," said Kyoko. "I'm quite sure. If I get it, this just might be a short role—Mio may have had fewer lines than the principal cast, but the filming still went on for weeks—same with Natsu. I'll have more lines in this one, but the actual filming length is shorter. At least hypothetically. You know how it is. I think I can do it."
Sawara weighed what she said, thought, and replied, "I think so too. It's relatively unknown, but if you make a splash, then that can only be good publicity for you. Bear in mind that this will take more time than you think, and that the director is going to ask for a lot of retakes."
"I hope so," said Kyoko. "I—" She blushed, and stuttered a little before continuing, "I think I'd like it if the director had more of an opinion on how I should act. I think I did a bit too good of a job thinking up my character for Natsu and Mio; ... the director never had a chance to internalize my interpretation so they could criticize. I need the practice at striving to internalize theirs."
"Hmm-mm. That may be an uphill battle, but it's a worthy goal. It will probably help you to adapt to most directors' guiding styles." Sawara handed back the file, with a note stuck inside that Kyoko's changes were approved of. "Therefore we need a substitute for you in the Bo suit, don't we? We're lucky that's a costume role...so anyone can do it...Orihara Izaya."
"What?" Izaya yelped, and Sawara jumped (Izaya had crept back around Sawara's desk until he was almost directly behind his manager).
"Get out of here," Sawara snapped in annoyance, and Izaya carefully made his way to the front of the desk again and tried to look innocent. "Kyoko needs a replacement. She's been doing a costumed comedy-show role. The company gives the same contract to anyone, so if you just sign up for the night you'll be paid for it."
"Sounds perfect," said Izaya, impatiently.
"Well, there you go. Both your problems are solved. Satisfied?"
"Yes," said Kyoko and Izaya.
"Now, for the rest of the day, I believe that several of the acting schoolrooms need cleaning... Please inform Kotonami-san and Heiwajima-kun of the changed priorities."
"Yessir." They said it at the same time. Kyoko and Izaya exchanged horrified glances, and just as quickly looked away.
"Bo…is a big fat chicken?!" Why didn't you tell me this before?! You don't think I could have prepared myself a little more thoroughly for this? They were probably having themselves a laugh.
Namie would be tickled pink. She'd laugh so hard that she'd be rolling on the floor in hysterics, and slap the floor so hard that she'd wake the neighbors down stairs… Izaya could just imagine it:
"Orihara-san, could you please control your secretary? We can't sleep!" "I'm sorry. Uh. No…It's not possible." "But she's your secretary!" "Yes, I know...I'm sorry...It's complicated...Yes, I take full responsibility... Would you like some sleeping pills? She'll be like this for three hours at least...Take it or leave it... Oh? Well, perhaps you'd like to watch a movie instead, while you wait? Here, you can borrow this, it's Yuuhei Hanejima's latest..."
If she found out, Izaya would never live it down.
But if he called her and told her not to watch TV tonight, he could be sure that was exactly what she would do. Any more specifics and she would definitely find out what was going on.
Grrrrr.
Really. A chicken. It was so demeaning.
This was the kind of thing he thought he'd signed up Shizuo to do!
Izaya took a step forward, picked up the chicken head, and jammed it onto his head. Well, if I'm doing it, then it had better be the best stinking psycho spectacle this set has ever known, Izaya swore silently.
But as Izaya would come to find out to his horror, the only way to do an excellent job on a comedy set is to make a complete botch of it.
The cast and crew filled Izaya in on what he was supposed to do and gave him the script. It was fairly easy, mainly comprised of actions instead of lines, so all Izaya needed to do was stay alert and focus on walking properly.
Hmph.
The guest star that day was a girl known as Feyris Nyannyan, born Rumiho Akiha. She was a local star from Akihabara, with a social network that would probably give Izaya's a run for his money if they didn't run in such different circles. Feyris didn't have much to do with the underworld, for instance. Feyris's speciality was fairly innocent—moe culture, and all products of it: anime, manga, games, cosplay, themed cafés, fashion, trendsetting, and the like. Of all the people he knew, the Kadota gang was the likeliest to have a connection with her. As fans, which wasn't particularly helpful. Otherwise, he thought, the girl didn't interest him particularly.
A helper showed Izaya to where he should be, and the show started. Izaya played his role perfectly, contributing with a silly and ridiculous dance that was required. When that was done, Izaya retreated to his spot and waited for his time to contribute to the farce.
Exuberant Emcee #1 (Izaya could not be bothered to remember his real name) took the spotlight. "Hello and welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight we have the greatest honor of introducing one of the most influential citizens of the Akihabara district! I'm sure many of you have met her already! We introduce you to...Feyris Nyannyan!"
The crowd roared.
Really? thought Izaya.
Emcee #1 said, "Feyris, I thought we'd play a little game. You like games, don't you?"
Feyris flashed her teeth, which were alluringly pointy.
"I thought so! Why don't you tell us why you're here? Guess our three reasons!" Emcee #1 exclaimed..
Feyris raised her eyebrows. "Me? Tell you? Nyande?"
"Just to mix it up a little! If you can guess why we invited you, your fans will get a little prize from us!"
"Awww...but it's no fun without a penyalty. After all, this request is so irregular! Don't you think so, nya?"
Exuberant Emcee #2 burst into the conversation. "But of course! Bo! How about it?"
Izaya flapped his wings and swept a flourishing bow. It was required in his contract. Bo could not refuse challenges.
Emcee #1 gasped, "Bo volunteered! You must be a pretty lady!"
Oh, did Bo not usually volunteer? Izaya thought sourly. Even though it was in the contract? Or were they making this up? Why hadn't Kyoko told him? What did Kyoko usually do?
Feyris blushed and flapped her hand at Emcee #1. "Let's see... Bo will have to do his famous rooster imitation if I guess one of your reasons!"
Izaya, disguised as the chicken, barked, "Wan-wan!" just to show what he thought of that. Izaya wasn't sure if he actually could crow like a rooster.
It was a feeble joke, but the crowd roared with laughter.
Emcee #2 gave him a very strange look.
Feyris wrinkled her nose with pleasure and leaned forward in her chair. "All right then! Let's do this! And I guess... Because I am the proprietress of May Queen?"
"Correct!" shouted Emcee #1.
"Because...oh dear, this is quite difficult da nya! Ah... because of my moe influence?" Feyris got out of her seat and curtsied in her May Queen maid uniform.
"Correct! One more to go!"
Feyris hissed like a cat, she was "concentrating" so hard. "To play a game?"
Emcee #1 glanced at Emcee #2. "Wow, she really is smart. I was sure you wouldn't guess that one?"
"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Feyris said, sitting back, and waved one hand lazily as she watched them.
Her body language caught Izaya's attention. It would appear that Feyris did have a rather frightening intelligence, Izaya thought, for all the cuteness. It was as quick and accurate as a lightning strike. She was one to watch.
"Well then? Bo? Give us your signature call!"
Izaya let out three screeches in a row. It was pathetic. His voice confused a rooster with a hissing cockroach—oh, great, that meant he was a basilisk. Roosters were supposed to kill basilisks. Their sounds shouldn't be so similar... He wasn't sure if any sound actually escaped the suit or not, but he did the appropriate movement along with the sound...
The crowd fell over themselves.
There were times, Izaya thought grumpily, when he really did think too much.
The emcees, who glanced askance at Bo, looked a bit puzzled but not disappointed. "Aw, that's too bad, Bo," said Emcee #2, and Emcee #1 said, "So then, let's get down to business. How old are you, Feyris?"
"Twenty years old."
"Ah, so you've reached your majority! But you were fifteen when you started the café business, weren't you?"
Feyris smiled and nodded. "Yes, I was rather ... nyoung," she admitted.
"What was it like? How would you describe what you've achieved?"
"Ah, well. I made Akihabara what it is. I doubt anyone else would dare to claim that title, ne." An inexplicably bleak look flashed across Feyris's face, but it vanished after a moment.
"You're certainly right about that," said Emcee #2, slapping his knee.
Feyris seemed pleased to be distracted from her own thoughts. Her eyes lit up. "Yes, exactly, da nya. All I've done, really, is plant the seed of an idea in people's mindsya. A nyew aesthetic! Call it a fad...moe culture will someday fade; I have no illusions about thatya. But it will be remembered. Nye." She nodded sharply.
"So, why did you choose to create moe culture, in particular?"
"Because it's my dream da nya." Feyris settled her hands in her lap and started chattering. "I love the aesthetic, ne. I have always wanted to act this way, and get away with it. Be favored for it, even—cha! Before I created moe culture, I was looked down on if I behaved as childishly as I wished-ya. I legitimized childlike behavior, and made it normal in new, adult contexts, and that brings happiness to others, chau! It releases people to enact their fantasies and express themselves in ways society would not allow before."
"So, it was more or less to make you more comfortable?" Emcee #1 asked, blinking.
Feyris nodded fractionally, as if noncommittal.
Izaya wondered at the amount of work goal Feyris's goal would have involved at the young age of fifteen. He felt a tiny flash of jealousy for her skill, because while Izaya confidently manipulated individuals with fine-tuned finesse, Feyris had demonstrated her aptitude with the crowds. What Feyris was talking about, and also deliberately obscuring with her "cute" behavior, was partial culture change. Usually, young people were content to outgrow the urge to cling to undesirable behaviors. What could have motivated her to do that? And the way she used cuteness—it was as façade, not as an attempt to be genuine with others, like she professed. It was a dream, then, an artificial reality that she had brought to life, much as others write books or movies or theme parks... But she hadn't been content with leaving the dream artificial. Regardless of the moral and societal complexes, she had used her influence to give her dream bearing and substance in reality.
If that was indeed her inspiration, Izaya thought it was one of the most flagrantly selfish, self-serving and grandiose achievement he had ever seen a human attempt. But no one would recognize it. It chilled him, rather.
"Interesting...interesting," said Emcee #2. "And you have been wildly successful. What do you think contributed most to your success?"
"Ah..." Feyris pretended to think, and her smile dimpled. "Money!"
"Money?" Emcee #2 was taken aback. He didn't seem to know what to say to that. He leaned forward, as if about to say something, but then his eyebrows drew together, making him look uncertain and uneasy, and no words came forward.
Most people would lie, thought Izaya. It's unusual to believe in something so practical. Only villains do... He had to give her credit. She was simply incredibly business-savvy.
"Yes, money! People underestimate the power of money! It is quite a powerful tool! I was lucky Papa was rich, sou desu nya!"
Emcee #2 rubbed his forehead and said, "Well, yes, but why not say something more inspiring, Feyris-tan?"
"Because in my first few years, I wasn't making a profit at all jya. It was shockingly wasteful, nya ne. There was a lot of trial and error. So I needed money, or my dream wouldn't have made it to reality, where it is today, nya."
"Nn—nyaru hodo..." Emcee #2 stuttered slightly, eyes wide. "Makes sense. So what other advice do you have to give?"
"Follow your dreams," Feyris said promptly. "Don't doubt yourself, nya. Remember that dreams aren't just for you; for people to believe in your dream, you have to believe that your dream will help them somehow. Like, their lives will be better, ne? Hey, I'm not being cynical or anythingya! When you are passionate, it is natural to bring others into your dreamingya. So you shouldn't forget that you have a hand in the world you live in, nya ne..."
At that last, a shadow fleetingly dropped over Feyris's face; but almost before Izaya had registered it, it fell away again. After that, she was smiling and nodding again and Izaya almost couldn't believe he'd seen it.
"That's some profound advice," said Emcee #1, and Izaya wanted to smack him for saying some thing so trite and obvious.
"Maybe so, kamo shirenya." Feyris shrugged, piled her hands on each other, and set her teeth to dazzle. But this time, it was empty. Some of her enthusiasm had dropped away and she looked tired.
What for? Izaya wondered. All of what Feyris had said was true.
"So I hear that you've got another enterprise up your sleeve now. A completely different ballpark! True? False?"
"True." Feyris smiled genuinely. "Quite true. We call it... The name is... 'To Be Decided Later, Temporary Codename: Polyphemus' Black Sheep.' "
"What?" Emcee #1 looked disappointed; it didn't sound cute at all.
"I know, I know, ne. Strange name! I tried arguing with him to change it but the head scientist is eccentric da nya! His name's Okabe Rintarou, but he calls himself the Mad Scientist Hououin Kyouma..." She grinned. "He's a genius, a real G-Moose, a Genie-youse. Of course, you may know him as our local time travel theory pioneer, along with his wife Makise Kurisu." She giggled.
Emcee #1 was confused. "We seem to have wandered off topic..."
"Oh, I know," Feyris said quickly. "Okabe Rintarou was an early supporter of May Queen Café. That's the connection. Now I'm returning the favor. I'll do the business and he'll take us to a new area of scientific research, guaranteed to give Akihabara a little kick in the next ten years." Feyris winked. "I'd bet on it. If we're lucky, we might give the Silicon Valley techies a run for it, nya know. Of course, I can't tell you all the details right now, nya, that would ruin the surprise-ya."
Izaya's ears perked up. Perhaps Namie would like to know something about this. She needed something to keep her busy and really wrap her head around. She was practically pining for a challenge.
"Oh, good, so it's a real business!" Emcee #2 laughed nervously.
Emcee #1 added, "The rumors were quite bizarre, weren't they, Ryouka-kun?" He looked at his partner. "I was quite sure you were going to say no to our question, Feyris. We had quite a debate about whether to put that question in the script, didn't we?"
Emcee #2 nodded.
How condescending. But then again, really good, really juicy science, the stuff that almost approached magic...and sometimes did...was always being laughed at. And he knew for a fact that science existed. Saika and Celty had proved that, and there were times when he had suspected its existence ever since he met Shizuo—ordinary humans did not possess his amount of strength. That clinched it. He had to track down Feyris after shooting was over.
"Oh, yes," said Feyris, a wicked glint in her eyes as if she was ready to stab something, "it's a real business da nya."
Luckily the Emcees didn't notice her expression.
"All right! Time for a game. Feyris, you play a lot of games at the May Queen, don't you? All of your own invention?"
The scary face melted as if it had never existed. "Yes, I do. In fact, I have one game with me right now, nya." Feyris linked her hands and stretched her joints until they popped. "Ah! Much better." She reached into her purse and withdrew a stack of cards. "And now I ask you nya...are you ready for the May Queen Jubilee?" She shuffled them extra loudly.
"Okay, now how does it work? Bo, mascot man, you'd better pay attention! You're representing ... ah-uh ..."
"Chicken Bo" Izaya tuned out Emcee #1's inane chatter and focused on the cards fanned in Feyris's hands, which she was pointing to and explaining one by one.
The rules were perfect for a gambling game. Izaya had a two in fifteen chance of winning. Although there was a modicum of skill, it was perfectly engineered to give the appearance of choice and the illusion of strategibility, but in fact it would come down to chance...
It was much easier to strategize to lose in the most spectacular way made possible by the game, and so that's what he did. Besides, it was more fun, and losing would give the crowd something to think about.
By the end of it the Emcees were trying not to chew their nails.
"Whatcha doing, Bo?" said Emcee #1, aghast. "You're missing chances! You're gonna lose bigtime!"
"Yeah, c'mon, Bo. You're our mascot! Keep going, man!" Emcee #2 pleaded. "Just don't go— Oh nooooo..."
Izaya ignored them. He was almost there. He laid the losing card down, and—
He blinked.
...Hit the jackpot.
Izaya narrowed his eyes.
But that simple act had brought the house down. The Emcees whooped and mopped their eyes, screaming with laughter. It was unsightly.
Feyris leaned forward on her folded hands and smirked, her almond eyes narrowing to catlike slits. She knew her strategy.
There was something about this setup that irked Izaya.
"Congrats, Bo. You're officially the winner of May Queen Jubilee ja nya," Feyris leaned forward to congratulate them. "AND CUT!" yelled the director. Feyris didn't spare a glance at him. She stared penetratingly deeply into Izaya's eyes, and apparently liked what she saw, whatever it was.
Izaya made the sign with his hands: How many?
And she answered, "Oh, you know, ne. I think there've been five jackpot winners in the history of the game." She sat back, smug as a snake.
Izaya shook his head.
Feyris propped her chin on one arm, and swayed lazily. "Well, I didn't expect you to go try to lose-nya!" Feyris said in a loud whisper. "They told me to make sure you lost, but apparently you already had that in mindya. I can tell-ya. You can't fool the May Queen, nyan-nya-no!" She shook her finger at him and grinned. She seemed positively delighted.
Dammit. She got him. Or he'd got her, he didn't know which.
The rest of the shoot wrapped up without a hitch and the Emcees clapped Izaya on the back for a job well done, maybe a little too hard. Izaya scowled in their direction, stripped off the chicken suit as fast as possible, and made a beeline to the back rooms, where Feyris was waiting to get her stage makeup stripped off.
"So, Feyris-tan. Tell me about Okabe Rintarou," Izaya Orihara demanded.
"Huh..." Feyris played with her cellphone. "I could, I guess, but who are you, again?"
"The chicken suit guy," said Izaya, grinning crookedly through gritted teeth. "Well, the sub anyway. This was my first time."
"Oh yes. I like you. You have a lot of character." Feyris flashed a smile. "You were trying to lose my game, weren't you?"
"You bet," said Izaya, this time bouncing on his toes so he looked a little less like a crocodile.
"I knew it. And why would that be?"
Izaya retorted, "Comic characters are supposed to lose, and lose comically, that's why."
"Guess I really tripped you up, huh? Smart, but not that smart."
Izaya bristled. "If I played moderately, I might have won."
"But as it was, you played to lose and won anyway," said Feyris, nonplussed.
"..." Izaya growled in frustration. He hated, hated, HATED foiled plans. That was why he always planned so that, somehow, some way, he always won...
"That's why it's called the May Queen Jubilee, ya know. The game is felicity for hopeless cases. And I know of only five lose-winners—well, six now. You know, it's funny, but after the first time, they never won again." Feyris counted on her fingers. "Okabe. Daru. My father. Who's that girl... oh, Mayushii, and the boy-who-I-always-think-is-a-girl. The name's on the tip of my tongue-ya. It could be Rin, but I'm not sure... Ah, Ruka! That's it! ... Anyway, they're all amusing people who tend to overthink things, like you." Feyris stretched lazily.
"Your point is?"
"Four of those people are on Okabe's team of scientists. His lab members. Okabe's team isn't all about smarts. It's not even all about science. Daru's a programmer and Mayushi is a bit of a ditz, so she's like the lab mascot; she cooks, cleans, makes costumes, and before Okabe started a proper company with me, she used to manage Okabe's wretched finances. She works at the May Queen sometimes on the side. And at times I think Ruka, the boy-who-I-always-think-is-a-girl, is there for moral support."
"Moral support?"
"Yes, moral support. Don't ask me."
"Who the heck is this guy?"
"That's the question you should be asking."
"That's what I said!"
"No, you said, and I quote, 'Tell me about Okabe Rintarou!' "
"Same thing!"
"Is notya! I can't tell you anything about Okabe to make you understand, so you'll have to meet him yourself-ya."
"What?!"
"Yes. Would you like to meet him?" asked Feyris demurely.
"Um—" Izaya had to think about that one, it was so not what he had been expecting, but finally wrapped his brain around the concept and shouted, "—Yes!"
"Well, why didn't you say so, nya?"
Izaya couldn't take it anymore. "Because! Oh, you! You are the most annoying female I have ever laid eyes on!" Izaya hissed. "Stop saying 'nya'! 'Nya!' 'Nya know!' "
"Thank you for the compliment," said Feyris, and he eyes lit up like a cat's. She could have been purring.
Izaya glowered. "I'd like to go, but I actually have someone I'd like to take with me." If I actually get to meet the guy, I have to take Namie. I have to take Namie, because she's been looking for opportunities like this.
But Feyris didn't need any convincing. She shrugged. "Bring it on, nyaaaaa..." And she gave him a date and an address.
"Izaya."
"What."
Namie considered his mood. "You're scowling," she observed.
"So?"
"Would you like some Korean black bean sauce on rice for dinner?"
"I think not!" Izaya snapped. "You remember what happened last time!"
Namie threw up her hands. "Then cheer up!"
"Easy for you to say," Izaya grumbled.
"Did something happen at work?" asked Namie, pointedly.
Izaya sneered.
Namie hadn't deliberately needled him so much in a long, long time. "Let me guess..." She stretched and grinned. She didn't need to guess.
"Shut up."
"You had to dress up in a chicken suit for that show, oh-whats-its-name, SUPERNOVA STARDOM SHIIIIIINEE~~!" Namie folded her hands and pretended to swoon. "I was about to tape it, but I think the ribbon ran out—"
"NAH—MEE—AY!" Izaya bawled. "Shut up! URUSEI, NA!"
That night, the neighbors complained to Namie about her employer Izaya and racket he was making, which made Izaya shout even more, and finally Izaya retreated to sulk quietly in his room like a naughty child, flinging himself on his bed with wordless fury.
The neighbor's words rang in his head:
"Yagiri-san, could you please control your secretary? We can't sleep!" "I'm sorry. He's actually my boss." "Your boss?!" "Yes, I know...I'm sorry...It's complicated. Would you like some sleeping pills?" "No, thanks. Good luck, ojousan." "Good night."
Izaya contracted a stomachache from strong feelings of resentment and taciturn melancholy.
Since that was the case, Namie didn't make him Korean black bean sauce after all. However, Izaya seemed to think that green-beans-and-broccoli was just as bad, which suited Namie just fine.
And when Izaya woke up the next morning, he wondered how he could have been so childish as to have a tantrum, at his age. It ought to have been beneath him. He inspected his fingernails—clean-cut, without a speck of dirt or dust under the white rims—and scowled. Guess not.
But he hadn't recovered his pride enough to talk to Namie that morning, before he left for work.
Nor that afternoon, when he came home.
And not that night, despite the fact that dinner was actually tasty and edible for once.
Surly, petulant, peevish, cross, cantankerous, sour, mean and petty as any pre-Christmas Ebenezer Scrooge, Izaya point-blank refused to tell Namie about the appointment he had arranged for her to meet Okabe Rintarou.
Namie ignored Izaya's stonelike, staring, teeth-grinding prescence in the house and hummed her way through chores all day. Washing dishes—humming, humming. Doing laundry—humming, humming. Making dinner—ho hum, ho hum. Sweeping mopping—fuu, fuu, hnnn. She did everything in rhythm.
At some point Izaya just couldn't take it anymore. How could she ignore him so? Why couldn't she just confront him and then they could get it over with? O, cursèd Cheerfulness, darken my doors no more, foul construct of Felicity's incarnation! Izaya thought, and decided right then and there that she had driven him to madness. Without another word to Namie, he left the apartment and escaped into the dark anonymity of the city, slamming the door behind him.
Somehow he ended up in the back of an arcade shooting up monsters. He blew five hundred yen and forced himself to quit because he was a cheapskate, so he ended up walking back to his apartment and walked around, and around, and around it until he finally decided that if he didn't go inside, he would fall asleep standing on his feet.
Izaya went back to work the next morning. Izaya was afraid that Kyoko would gloat over successfully handing her role over to someone else, but to her credit, Kyoko nodded at him very distantly in the hallway that morning, and went on her way. Moko would have liked to hear more, he could tell, but she followed Kyoko's lead.
Shizuo didn't even know, oblivious as usual, the brute. So there were advantages to having a rival so blind to what went on around him, Izaya thought harshly. His thoughts were tinged even darker than usual, and that made him angry. He itched to do something. Something, anything, as long as it was superbly nasty.
It distracted him, and for the first time, Izaya received negative points at work that day. After work, Izaya looked for Shizuo, but he was nowhere to be found. He had left work early.
Perhaps he was not so oblivious after all. And Izaya hadn't even felt him watching. Izaya clenched his fists.
Curses...
"Izaya..." Namie winked at him when he came home.
"What," said Izaya, and scowled.
Namie grinned at him. "Look, look! I have the tape!"
Izaya stopped dead. "What tape?"
"The one you thought was almost lost," said Namie, grinning brightly—suspiciously gleefully. "You were so upset at me when I misplaced it! I know it's your favorite—"
Izaya snatched the tape out of her hand and sent it hurtling into the opposite wall, where it smashed.
Namie flinched at the noise, and stared at the tape, still intact, now missing one of its nonessential plastic edgings. "Um," said Namie. She crossed to the wall and carefully scooped it up. But Izaya was already out the door.
Needless to say, Izaya didn't tell her about the appointment—again.
Namie inspected the tape, which wasn't that badly broken, and carefully put it back together. Why would Izaya try to break his only beloved copy of You Kill Me? He loved that movie. It was about an assassin guy with an alcohol problem who was trying to quit drinking but otherwise had no compunctions against murder, rather like Izaya himself (although to be fair, she had never seen anyone involved in Izaya's schemes actually die), which was probably why he was crazy about it. She sighed. Aside from the gameboard-burning incident, which did not count because his feelings on that occasion ran closer to sadistic joy than upset or stress, Namie had never seen Izaya take out his temper on his things or property. So something was getting to him.
And on the third day, it rained, and it was the weekend, and Izaya was miserable. He hated rain. It was miserable weather. Absolutely nothing good came of rain. People broke up in the rain. The first rain of the season caused more accidents. Rivers rose and flooded in the rain. People caught more colds. Izaya got chilled and more and more wretched.
That's what Izaya told himself was the cause of his foul mood, but of course it was more than that. Izaya locked himself in his study and wouldn't come out.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, suspicious and confused by her boss's reclusive behavior, Namie came and pounded on Izaya's door and demanded to be let in so she could give him his supper. Or, failing that, to extract an answer as to why he was avoiding her.
Izaya shouted at her and Namie screamed back and while neither really understood what the other said on account of the door's top-notch insulation, they knew they were at cross-purposes. In the middle of their argument the neighbors knocked on the door and commented on the noise, saying it was the second time in two days, and this behavior was unlike what they knew of Izaya. And so Namie had to apologize for her boss a second time. The neighbors were no fools and they very bluntly asked her to make up with Izaya or there would be complaints.
Of course, given the conditions of that day, such a task would be impossible. Namie would have been more than happy to do what the neighbors said, but the whole point of the argument was to do exactly that, and apparently that approach had failed. Now she was out of ideas.
She left him alone after that, and the third day passed.
On the fourth day, Izaya came out of his study looking rumpled and sleepy-looking, and announced without preamble, "You're coming with me to meet someone today. Right now."
Namie's brow creased. "Not looking like that, you're not!" She put down her bowl of cereal and frowned at Izaya.
Izaya ran his hands through his greasy hair. "I can't shower, there's no time! I overslept!"
"I'll say. So tell me, what would you have done if I had slept in also?" Namie said pointedly.
Izaya grunted and sprinted to the bathroom. Namie took a moment to brush her hair, find her purse, and clean up breakfast; she was waiting by the front door when Izaya skidded to a halt in front of her, kicked the front door open, grabbed Namie's hand and led her at a run to the local train station.
"Where are we going?" Namie asked. She was strong. If Izaya had not been thinking of other things, he would have noticed that though the run was long and tiring and Namie had not worn her best shoes, she kept up with him, and had not even started panting.
"Akihabara," Izaya replied shortly. He was a little out of breath himself.
Namie squeaked out, "Why? Nande?!"
Izaya squeezed her hand, but he was trying to concentrate so they could catch the train on time, and he was too frustrated with himself to answer her.
They got on the train and rode it. They were quiet. Izaya tapped his foot impatiently until they arrived in Akihabara, and then he took hold of Namie's arm again and pulled her into chaos.
When they emerged, they found themselves on the streets, and Izaya pulled out his phone and used the GPS to find the restaurant Okabe has specified to meet them on—a tiny, humble ramen shop which looked slightly rundown, the existence of which was probably a jealously guarded otaku secret. But even Izaya had to admit that the shop didn't look like much when they pushed their way through the hanging cloths. Everything was white, plastic, and plain, excepting the red-and-white checker tablecloths. Otherwise, it was very stark. The dark shadows the white ceiling fans threw on the walls did not help matters either. Namie wrinkled her nose, and asked Izaya the obvious question, "Who are we meeting?"
Izaya scanned the restaurant. Where was Okabe? Who was in here? Was that— His eyes narrowed. There was a girl in the back corner, away from the door, with short, closely cropped dark brown hair and a heart-shaped face with cute little fangs. If he mentally put on the pink hair, he got—Feyris.
She rose to greet them.
"Feyris-tan. This is my..." Izaya paused. "Secretary" obviously wasn't strictly appropriate, nor "acquaintance," so what was left? "Ally"? Ha, nobody would take him seriously. Somewhat unwillingly, he continued, "...friend, Namie Yagiri. Namie, Feyris Nyannyan."
Namie bowed. "Pleased to meet you. Yoroshiku," she murmured.
"Yoroshikya," said Feyris-tan cheerily, bowing slightly in return.
Now that was done with, Namie spared Feyris a rare, indulgent, specially conciliatory smile, then ignored her, turned to Izaya, frowning, and interrogated him. Who, what, where, when how?! Izaya knocked back all of her hard-hitting questions. Namie did not like the answers. She folded her arms, and her frown deepened.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"
Izaya avoided her eyes and scuffed his feet on the floor. "I was upset..."
"Why?!" Namie demanded.
"Because I knew you were going to tease me about my role in that damn sitcom," Izaya shot back. "It was too good an edge to pass up!"
Namie snapped. "Baka," she said, and cuffed him lightly over the head. Izaya didn't quite manage to duck, and he rolled back on his heels, rubbing the top of his head. "So it was three days ago, then? Now I remember. I was trying to compliment you! That is, I was going to."
"Oh—ohooooh," said Izaya, incoherently, and blinked in shock. That forced him to re-evaluate things. "Uhm. I'm sorry. Gomen." He closed his eyes, looked down, and made the signed his apology. Suman'.
Namie clamped one hand on his head, spiked his hair in rows between her fingers, and forced him to bob his head several times before she threw him back into the nearest table seat. She exhaled loudly and sat back, apparently done with him.
Feyris chuckled, and they both remembered her presence in the room.
"Ah," said Izaya. "I forgot our host. My apologies, Feyris-tan, but where is Okabe Rintarou?"
"Okabe Rintarou?" Namie repeated, seizing Izaya's shoulder.
"Otherwise known as Hououin Kyouma da nya," said Feyris, staring at her narrowly.
"Yes, he—" Namie stopped short, and turned her fury back on the one who deserved it. "Is this who...? Izaaaaaaya," she growled, and squeezed his shoulder viciously, embedding her nails, "I think I know why you did this, but honestly. What the hell were you thinking?"
"Oh, you know him?" Izaya said weakly. He wilted. "I, er..." Wasn't thinking. Not once in the last three days, to be honest.
"I appreciate the gesture, really, but he's not even in my field! He's into physics!" Namie shouted, letting go of Izaya. "Worse, he's a complete crackpot! He makes Shinra's father Shingen look reasonable!" How true that was, she didn't know.
"What is she-ya?" asked Feyris, sounding interested.
"A chemist," Izaya answered, and Namie rounded on him.
"Okabe said he needed a chemist," Feyris interjected mildly. "By the way, trying to fit Okabe into a box is a useless exercise. Even if that 'box' happens to be his field. Except for his wife, Makise Kurisu, he doesn't work with other physicists. He needs people of other talents."
Namie sniffed. "We'll see about that. So, Feyris, since we came all this way to see him, let's see him, shall we? What's he doing?"
"The answer is quite simple, nye. He's late." Feyris shrugged. "He probably got caught up in an experiment. I'll call him-ya." She got out her phone, dialed the number, and he picked up. She rebuked him and excitedly, but quietly, gave him his instructions in classic proprietress-of-the-May-Queen style, and hung up. "He'll be here in less thanya—"
The door to the ramen shop banged open and a tall man in a white lab coat rushed through and slid to a stop in fron the of the little group. The ramen shop's proprietress groaned and clutched her head. "Stop zaah rackeh a'righ now!"
Okabe Rintarou shrugged and cracked his knuckles. "Feyris-tan. Why have you summoned me from the depths of important experiments? How high of a security alert went off? Was it SERN? NOZOMI? Nebula?... Or is it...wait...who do we have here?" he asked, in genuine surprise.
"I told you this before!" Feyris grinned brightly and rubbed her hands together. "Recruits desu-nya. This is Namie Yagiri, and her contact, Izaya Orihara."
"Hoohooooooh," said Okabe. He rubbed his chin, which was just slightly stubbly. "Do they object to fetching groceries?" His golden eyes were unfocused while he was thinking.
Namie was insulted. Was that all? Was this what she had been dragged halfway across the city to hear? She expected to work, and be respected. Seriously? Errand-running? If that was what they wanted her for she could just buckle down and keep working for Izaya.
Feyris wrinkled her nose and giggled. "Silly Okabe-kun. Mayushi-chan does that for you. And you're only getting one of them, if they agree."
"Two is better than one." Okabe stared at Namie in the face, quite rudely.
"Wouldjall siddown?" the ramen shop lady yelled. "And callah me when ya's all ready to order! Shell phones no servish!"
Feyris snapped her cell shut and tucked into the pocket of her dress, looking innocent.
"Oh, yes, we shouldn't upset the hostess..." Okabe guiltily drew a chair for everyone and sat down hastily, looking only somewhat chastised. He was used to being yelled at by her. "She went to the dentist for a toothache the other day. It's quite terrible," he whispered loudly behind his hand. Everyone felt bad for her and sat down without another word.
Namie would not look anyone in the eyes, least of all Izaya, who was at least doing her the favor of avoiding hers in turn.
Okabe did not appear to notice. He opened his menu and scanned the options.
The front door flew open again—less violently, however, as the perpetrator caught it and replaced the door quietly before she strode forward, her dark red hair streaming behind her. "Okabe!" she shouted, commandingly.
Okabe flinched at first, then fidgeted in his seat, perhaps a little guiltily. "Yes dearest? Kurisu-tiiiiiiiina?"
The red-haired girl slammed her hands down on the table in front of him. She barked, "Why?"
For a fraction of an instant, Namie was amused. After all, she had just screamed the same word at Izaya, in almost exactly the same way. And then she hardened. Just what was going on here?
"Ah, Christina..." said Okabe, dismayed. "Feyris-tan arranged for me to meet some people. New lab members? Wouldn't that be exciting?"
"One new lab member," said Izaya quickly. "I was scouting jobs for my secretary, Namie Yagiri. To tell the truth, she's bored with her job and I will be going on extended leave and will not need her services, so I wanted to leave her with a good job as a going-away present. The current economy is difficult, you see..."
Makise Kurisu, repeatedly and incorrectly referred to as "Christina" by Okabe as some kind of obscure joke, locked eyes with Izaya, and raised her eyebrows to show him exactly the level of respect he deserved—she didn't believe his story for a minute. She turned back to her husband, and raised her eyebrows. "And you were going to tell me about this, ah, when?"
"Errr. Five minutes ago?" Okabe surmised, rubbing his head, perhaps in anticipation of something. "Didn't Feyris-tan text you?"
"Baka!" Ka-blam.
"Ow! Iiiit-t-t-t—" Okabe clutched his head.
"And this is why you should'nya ever marry a tsundere," Feyris-tan whispered to Izaya conspiratorially, and Izaya nodded absently, not really paying attention.
Namie frowned at Feyris.
"You just left in the middle of an experiment and I had to clean up after you! I didn't know why you'd gone! I got the text afterwards!" Makise shouted in her loudest, dryest voice, and waved her hands for emphasis.
"It wasn't in the middle. We were done. You said you didn't need my help!"
"Yes I did!"
"No you didn't!"
"Well, I'm your wife! And your assistant manager! You should tell me when you start doing...irresponsible things!" Makise struggled, impassioned. Okabe crossed his arms, pursed his lips and looked cunning, but said nothing. "Oh, good grief," Makise sighed in exasperation, tiring of the whole argument. To her credit, she calmed down very quickly. She knew very well she would never get Okabe to behave as she expected. "Well? Who do we have here?"
"Izaya Orihara, and Namie Yagiri," Feyris-tan supplied. "Namie is looking for a job. She has experience in general science, medicine, business, and chemistry."
"You're a chemist?" Makise said, with sudden interest.
"Yes. I have experience in the pharmaceutical business." Namie dug in her purse and withdrew two business cards, which she presented to Makise, one after the other.
"Mmm. Nebula and Yagiri Pharmaceuticals."
"Yes. My company was bought out by Nebula. I believe that some of my associates would still be there, if you would like to check my references."
"You have my sympathies." Makise flicked a glance at her husband. "Have we ordered?"
Okabe shook his head.
Makise asked, "Does anyone have a problem with tonkatsu ramen?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"Tonkatsu ramen it is, then." Makise leaned back and yelled, "We're ready, madam!"
"What's't then?"
"Tonkatsu ramen for everyone, please!"
"Cominga righ' up!"
"There," Makise sighed. "We can get on with business. Feyris, lunch dates aren't the best places to conduct interviews, are they?"
Feyris shrugged. "It works for the May Queen."
"Let's not do this in the future, shall we?" Makise said firmly.
"As you wish." Feyris folded her menu, laid it flat on the table, and leaned on it.
Namie was uncomfortable.
"If you're quite done playing around," Izaya said impatiently, "What are you interested in Namie for?"
Makise stirred. "Her expertise. Okabe has been trying to design some new experiments and inventions. They require certain specialized properties which we're not sure how to achieve."
"Ah," said Izaya, pushing himself back from the table. "Namie, I leave it to you." Hard science was not his strong suit.
Namie flicked her eyes at him and took a deep breath. "What are you thinking of?"
Makise flicked a glance at Okabe. "A precursor to a time machine," she said bluntly. Okabe immediately began muttering into his phone about mysterious organizations and his suspicions about being watched. "El...Psy...Congroo..." he ended, flipped the phone shut, and laughed dramatically.
Goodness. He was worse than Shingen Kishitani. "You're joking," said Namie, quite seriously.
Makise shook her head. "I didn't believe, either. I teach physics. But they proved me wrong one day. I can show you proof, actually."
Namie looked at her askance. "If you would."
"After supper," Makise promised.
Namie tucked her hands under her legs and rocked forward. "So what kinds of substances do you need?"
"I've worked out the physics equations. The substances we need have to have certain properties. We need a chemist to create a substance that matches those properties."
"Then you need a materials physicist or engineer, don't you?"
Makise sighed. "What's holding us up is that it's not a known substance that we need. It has to be created."
"Nevertheless," said Namie stubbornly.
Feyris propped her chin up on one hand. "We can send you to schooling for thatya. I have the money. Makise is also going for the chemistry part."
Makise blushed slightly. She loved learning, but it was somewhat embarrassing to hear someone else say that she had been sent back to school.
Namie bit her lip, thinking.
"And I know physics. I can help. We can work together," said Makise, slightly hoarse.
"But why bother sending me to school?" asked Namie. "There must be fully trained professionals out there."
"They're employed, mostly. It's a hot topic, but research today focuses on nanotubes—well, actually, they might help, but I don't know enough about them to be certain—and certain organic chemistry molecules, which we don't need as much. Besides, we need someone who doesn't have preconceived notions of what physics is, but is discovering things as he or she learns them."
Namie's breath whooshed out. "I see."
"Did you like school?" asked Makise softly.
"Oh, it was all right." Namie shrugged, but the slight tension in her face didn't leave. "I'm not even sure why I'm bothered. I'm just not sure about this yet." She looked at Izaya, who was stretched out in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, and gazing at nothing in particular. He wasn't paying attention to the conversation at all, but was genuinely lost in his thoughts. It was out of character...
Their food came. "Itadakimasu," they all intoned, and began eating. The table was quiet. Even the irrepressible Okabe was preoccupied by the solemn mood. And at the end, "Gochisousama," said Namie, and Izaya echoed her absently.
Glancing sharply and surreptitiously at the shopkeeper, Makise pulled out her phone and called the lab, speaking in a low voice. "Daru-kun. I'd like to show a prospective lab member our first experiment with the cell-phone microwave." Daru replied. Makise shook her head, said goodbye, and hung up. "He says it's down for repairs."
Okabe looked up at that. "The most recent experiment? With the mice?"
Makise nodded mutely.
Okabe frowned. "Crap."
"Oh, he says it was a success..." Makise trailed off.
"But the machine broke, didn't it?"
Makise shook her head. "Actually, not even that, but there was that lightning again. It needs to be checked thoroughly."
"Kuso," Okabe swore, mildly. "Tch."
"Chikushou," Makise muttered, in a rare show of frustration and one-upmanship. Her voice was even lower, duller, and more disappointed than Okabe's. She slumped in her seat. "Sorry, everyone. The experiments have been rocky lately. No pain, no gain..." but she was nevertheless grimacing at the thought of the work ahead.
"Hmm," said Namie. It was bad news, but it showed her a good sign, she thought...
Izaya quietly took out his wallet, shelled out the appropriate amount of cash, and stood. He thought he could read Namie fairly well in ordinary circumstances, as these were. Namie seemed to need time to think. It was when she looked disinterested, at times, that she was thinking most deeply, and wished to be alone, undisturbed. "We should be really be going. Will you call us if the machine works again? We'll have a better idea of what you're working on again," said Izaya.
"Yes, of course," Makise murmured. "We will. I'm sorry for the breakdown. I was looking forward to it. And please—drop by anytime." Okabe made a faint sound of protest, but thought better of it.
"We'll keep thinking," Izaya promised, and Namie nodded stiffly.
"Until next time."
"Next time." And with that they parted, but Makise's soft, urgent whisper was still loud enough to be heard: "So, where do you think the mice went, Okabe?" And then the bells on the shop door jingled, the door closed, and Namie and Izaya were walking away.
Namie winced and covered her eyes with one hand. Oh, joy. There was a reason why she hated doing experiments in school... Even the most exact instructions and procedures still left room for the unexpected.
"How did it go?" asked Izaya, sticking his hands in his pockets and weaving in front and beside her as she walked.
Namie shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. I'm still upset at you for everything."
"Gomen," Izaya apologized, as sincerely as he knew how.
"Baka," she muttered, with some grudging bitterness, but without heat.
"But you're not angry with me anymore," Izaya pointed out.
Namie shrugged. "I'm troubled. That's all. I thought we were one way, and then..." she waved one hand listlessly. "I'm upset. I don't know why exactly. Baka," she said again, trying the feel of the sound on her tongue as if it were a perplexing flavor that she wasn't sure why she liked.
"Look, I ruined it. I'm the idiot," said Izaya earnestly. "Truly, I can't reconcile how childishly I've been behaving as of late. I don't know what's come over me."
She shook her head. "Maybe."
"Try to give them a fair chance," Izaya pleaded with her. "Please try not to let the mood interfere with your choice."
"I know. I'll try." Namie shrugged again and strode ahead, walking indifferently and ignoring Izaya.
And to tell the truth, the more she thought about them, the lighter Namie's heart felt; she was curious. Cautious, but guardedly curious, and that was a lighter, more welcome feeling than any she had had in a long time. She wanted to see more.