Characters: Namie Yagiri, Izaya Orihara, Shizuo Heiwajima, Kanae "Moko" Kishitani, Kasuka Heiwajima, Yukihito Yashiro, Ren Tsuruga, Kyoko Mogami

Chapter 10: In Which People Go to Work and Tend Their Working Relationships

Namie was still upset with Izaya and his late childish behavior, but a week or so after the meeting, her good sense won out and she called Okabe Rintarou about the job offer. In the current economy, it would be foolish to turn it down, after all. And it wasn't like she had anything else to consider.

The phone rang with soft, low tones. Namie heard a click as the phone was picked up. "Moshimoshi. Okabe-san?" Namie spoke into the receiver.

"Hai. If you're looking for Makise Okabe-Kurisu, that is. Who's calling?"

"This is Namie Yagiri."

"Oh!" The voice on the other end of the phone suddenly became breathless. "Of course! Yagiri-san. You're calling about the mice, aren't you?"

"Mice..." Namie was briefly lost in thought, thinking back to the words she had overheard after their last meeting.

Makise's nervous voice betrayed her insecurity. "Ah, forget that, I meant the time machine research."

"Right. About that."

"Daru fixed the phone-microwave the other day, so we can demonstrate it today or tomorrow—there aren't any experiments scheduled for it yet, so it shouldn't break in the meantime," Makise chuckled. "Would that be fine?"

"Yes, I'll be over shortly."

"Yagiri-san?"

"Yes?"

"Are you thinking about taking the job?"

"...It's the best offer I've got," said Namie, slightly unwillingly.

More nervous laughter on the other end of the line. "Oh, no problem... I was just wondering, was all. You're the first one to call back, you see," said Makise.

"Don't you think you should be a mite more dishonest?" Namie replied, sighing.

"Ah, but my instincts tell me you're the right person and if you sign on with us, we'll be working together for quite a long time. That's why—that is—it's better to be honest," Makise replied, somewhat flustered.

"Thank you. I'll be over after six."

"Would you like dinner?"

Namie glanced at the clock. "No thank you, I'll make some before I go. Or after."

Okabe Rintarou's lab was less than immacculate, in Namie's opinion, but it was good enough for the work they were doing—which had been, after all, mechanical in nature so far.

Makise declined to do the experiment with the mice, citing the possibility of the microwave breaking down as had happened last time, but she did demonstrate the first technique they discovered on a banana, reducing it to radioactive gel, which convinced Namie that Okabe's theories had something to them. She checked Okabe's scientific logs and found they were fairly sound, although in some cases studded with unnecessary inside jokes. Like Alpaca-Man. What in the world was that?... And there were a fair number of gadgets that Okabe himself had invented, ranging from amusing-but-useless to the apparently-lame-but-practical in function. And there were a rare few that managed to be both interesting and useful.

"I have to admit that this lab's studies have merit," Namie told Makise, shutting Okabe's notebooks.

"You were much easier to convince than I was," Makise said, smiling.

Namie's expression grew guarded. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? I am starting to suspect that I lack logic as a scientist for even daring to take this on."

"No, that was a compliment. Because it is true, even though it seems impossible. I simply wouldn't confess what I really thought for a while because Okabe had almost convinced me that he was mad. He always did talk me around in the end, though, and then he'd challenge me to prove his theories with the math...which I did. And I witnessed the effects of time travel myself. So then I had to accept it."

"Oh. I can see that." Namie wondered what else to talk about, and decided to ask the question she had been dying to know for a while now. "How did you end up marrying?"

Makise coughed into her fist. "I— It's a long story. The truth will probably sound completely illogical. "

Namie's brow knit together. "Huh. But I can't think how that would work... You started out thinking he was bonkers, didn't you?"

Makise smiled slightly. "Yeah. He was—he is—eccentric. But that's also what made him interesting."

"Maybe he'll grow on me."

"Like rust on a nail," Makise replied. Namie could almost hear her rolling her eyes.

"Do you have any instructions on how I'm going to work here?" Namie asked.

"We're funded by Feyris-tan. We're paid once a month. Hours are fairly flexible: ten per day, and you can move them around. When you start attending university, Feyris will discuss how that works with you. Mind you, because we all need to be co-operating, lab meetings will be mandatory. We use a timecard. You'll get a key of your own about a week after you start working pretty closely, and Okabe will find you a lab member pin. That's the gist of it. Okabe and I live in the flat downstairs, by the way; we bought the Brauns' business and we've kept it running. Braun's little girl Nae still comes over sometimes. I usually come up here by eight o'clock, and Okabe comes by nine. We need to get you caught up to speed, so don't come before then, okay? At least not for the first week. We don't want you to be lost or wait a long time, you see."

"That's a somewhat foreign system, isn't it?" Namie said stiffly.

"But it's convenient." Makise smiled at her. "And there's less pressure on you."

"Fine. I suppose it's trying to be considerate," Namie said, nevertheless sounding somewhat dissatisfied.

"You're a person who likes discipline, aren't you?"

"I suppose," said Namie reluctantly. "Given the alternative."

"Me, too. We could use some more of it around here. You may not like the disorder, but I'm glad we have someone like you on the team." Makise smiled brightly at Namie. "It will bring us more balance."

Namie bowed slightly. "I am looking forward to it." She stood up.

"Leaving already?"

"Yes...I'm sorry...there's someone who needs me at home." Namie turned. "But I will definitely be back."

"See you." Makise waved goodbye.

Namie walked out of the lab, only to be struck by her own last words. Going home? Why ever did she say that? Habit, most likely... Someone who needed her? No way. It was just the thing to say, the most effective excuse. If she actually started believing it, though, hoo boy, was she ever in trouble...

Izaya went home. Namie was not there to greet him when he came back from work.

She was not there griping about unclear instructions or the mess he left behind or the unwelcome present he left her or the errand that she wasn't able to complete because of something he had done. She wasn't there to whip up tea and snacks upon his return with misleading (albeit characteristic) and curt briskness, and then unleash her acid tongue when he teased her. She wasn't there to ask him pointed and probing questions in retaliation. She wasn't there to watch her favorite Korean dramas while she cooked and to titter with superiority when embarrassing things happened to the protagonists, interrupting his concentration at irregular intervals. He couldn't criticize her when she wasn't there.

Something in his chest went a little cold when he realized that, upon walking through the front door. There was no sound in the house but that of the pipes, and the heat turning on and off, and the constant hum of the refrigerator.

The flat really did sound empty.

Surely it sounded just the same when he first moved in. But now it left a different impression on him. The lack of sound was cold and indifferent, even oppressive.

Although he wasn't cold and the room wasn't particularly warm, he turned on the fans and put on a sweater before the breeze could give him goosebumps. The air currents made his papers flap and curl, which annoyed him. He decided he could put up with that, though, because with the fans on, he could almost believe, at times, that their steady, static buzz sounded alive, and that was enough to not feel so alone.

What am I doing, getting this sentimental? I thought I was all about independence.

Sitting at his desk, Izaya sighed, leaned back, and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. What a bother, huh...

I wasn't supposed to get used to living with another person. It wasn't supposed to make me feel better to live this way.

Izaya covered his eyes for a moment.

What had he told Mikado that time, a few days before he left? About evolving? About not settling for anything? About becoming bored when life was always the same?

Izaya smiled self-deprecatingly.

I didn't used to be this sappy. If it turns out that it's the ridiculous LoveMe section that has changed my attitude, I will eat my hat. Although I doubt it will come to that. There's sure to be some other influence coming over me...

Namie opened the door to the apartment. She could see Izaya from there. He was napping on the edge of the computer desk.

She stepped inside and let go of the door. She said, "You look glum."

Izaya jerked towards the sound of the door closing, and the many papers littering his desk lifted off and slipped over the sides and away. Izaya tried to trap as many as he could with his elbows and crushed and crumpled a few in his haste. Because of this, he could not pretend nonchalance; he settled for distraction. "Eh, wha? Namie, whassup? You surprised me."

"Hm, that doesn't happen often." Namie unceremoniously wrenched her shoes off in the genkan and stomped inside, dumping her purse on the kitchen counter. She pulled her scarf from her neck with difficulty, hastily shoved out of her coat, and thrust both items on the rack by the door. Then she tossed her hair, walked into the kitchen, and stood there in the middle of everything like she didn't know what to do just then.

"Namie?"

"Give me a minute," Namie said. "I need to remember what my purpose is."

"You're my—" Izaya started automatically, he had said it so many times before and would say it many times, probably once a day until the time it was no longer true, simply because the truth bothered Namie so much. Sure enough—

"Shut up," she snapped.

Izaya turned around and tried to put his papers in order without rolling over them with his chair. The chair clinked whenever he shifted his weight. When he turned back around, Namie was scurrying around the kitchen, lighting up the stove and pulling out ingredients and tools that she needed as if nothing had happened.

"Namie?"

"What?"

"What are you making?" Izaya asked cautiously.

"Tea. Rice. Eggs. Sautéed vegetables, for a stir fry. Why?"

"No reason." But he couldn't leave it at that, could he? "You looked lost, for a minute."

She turned, met his eyes, and nodded.

Irritated by his curiosity, Izaya probed deeper. "Then what?"

"I don't know, Izaya." Namie moved around the kitchen smoothly, dealing with ingredients and cleaning surfaces and checking on projects with ease. "I had to remember who I was, that's all. Housework—scientist things—they're very different."

"On the kids' programming this morning, I heard that cooking and chemistry have a lot in common," Izaya snarked.

Namie gave him a look, and didn't reply.

Yes, well, Izaya had deliberately missed the point. He tried not to look disappointed at her refusal to take the bait. "I didn't think you were the type who could forget that so easily," he commented.

"I was just stunned. It's my first time doing this, it hasn't become routine yet. And I didn't have anything planned for when I got home, other than to shed my clothes. It's warm in here but it's freezing outside." She looked up, frowning. "Although, actually, I'm going to get little cold with this breeze blowing about. Why are the fans on, Izaya?"

Izaya got up, walked to the switch, and flipped it off. "No reason."

"I see." Namie wiped some sweat off her brow and went back to work.

"Don't you want to relax? I thought you might want a break."

Namie shook her head. "I wouldn't know what to do. So I might as well do something that needs doing. I'll rest later."

"Okay." He was passive.

That got her attention. She slammed something down on the kitchen counter and hissed, "Izaaaaaaya, you're being too nice today. Do you have any clones I don't know about?"

"Pffft." The corners of Izaya's mouth twitched. "As if. Anyway, if I had any, they would probably have come from that old ethically-compromised company of yours, wouldn't they?"

Namie made no reply to that. "If you really want to convince me that you're still yourself, say something mean." She started chopping vegetables on a wooden board. The knife knocked against the wood mockingly. Cha cha chop. Cha cha chop.

Izaya ground his teeth. This wasn't something you could just request. "You're not shy or retiring at all, your hobbies are hardly womanly, your cling to your dignity and pride though you live with the man who brought an end to your inheritance, you are vastly overqualified for the job you currently occupy, your verbal jabs could break skin, your best friend lost her head for the better half of a entire century and you had a hand in it which ought to call your judgment into question, and of course you've got a crush the size of a jackhammer on your own little brother." He had lost the sardonic tone along the way, he noticed. This was all old business. "In summary, you should probably get your frontal lobes checked out."

It wasn't really a bad summary of who she was, she thought, although it was hardly complimentary. "Why'd you choose the jackhammer?" asked Namie, with some interest. She slid the chopped vegetables into the pan on the stove, and continued chopping.

"So that didn't bother you? I'm losing my edge." No, the whole thing was really lame. Izaya resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself and rubbed his eyes instead. Nothing he said worked as well as it used to on Namie anymore.

"It is kind of phallic," said Namie thoughtfully, as if that was a point in favor of the intended jibe.

Immediately Izaya sat straight in his seat, as if he had been poked by a red-hot wire. "Namie, you're scaring me," said Izaya, inching away from her. "Are you really quite truly absolutely sure you're not secretly Russian...?"

Namie laughed. "You're the one who thought of it. Are you sure you don't have any Freudian relatives...?"

"Do not inquire into the mysteries of name-calling or quick quips," Izaya intoned. "The unbecoming hang-ups of humanity will raise their ugly heads every time. I can list dozens of books to that effect. Freud and Jung might not agree, but most of humanity agrees that was the ultimate conclusion of their research."

Namie shoved the vegetables into the pan again, and put down the knife and chopping board. "Nah, it'd be a pretty effective insult, if the delivery was better and you or I still cared," Namie said casually. She started shaking up the vinaigrette.

Izaya blinked. "What?"

"I said, if I still cared." Namie poured a decent amount of the sour stuff into the pan to start with.

Izaya thrust himself forward. "Meaning that you don't."

"Mostly," Namie said. "I don't know." She went and washed her hands in the sink, leaning on the counter. "I still have those feelings. I am still possessive and jealous of him. If I saw him before my eyes I would feel as I did then. I would have been better for him and understood him better than that lovestruck, obsessive girl ever could, if Seiji had eyes for me. I am definitely the better woman. He wouldn't let me take care of everything for him. But..." She exhaled. "I lost him for good. And by my own hand, so be it." She was not quite frowning: her face was overly serious. "I have no choice but to cede my case."

Izaya raised his eyebrows at her. "He's not married yet. Aren't you supposed to be one of those yandere anime girls who competes for the beloved's affections but always loses in the end anyway because they're just a little too crazy? Come on! Do your part!"

"You don't understand," Namie said woodenly, picking up a spatula. "It's too late, and I threw in my last chips already. This is my brother Seiji. He doesn't change his mind. Ever. Even about the most trivial things—no, in fact, they usually are—trivial. Unless Mika Harima dies, he's not changing his mind, and maybe not even then."

"That's too bad," said Izaya, yawning. "I was just about to suggest that Mika's assassination as a way to solve the problem." Lazily keeping an eye on her, Izaya stretched his arms high above his head, then relaxed back into the curve of his chair.

Namie was struck stock still for a moment. "No. Not even as a joke, that's just—no. Especially coming from you." So saying, she moved around restlessly, rubbing her palms together and pinching at her wrists as if something in them hurt her.

"A year ago, you might have taken me up on the offer. Even at the risk that it wouldn't work," said Izaya, watching her. "Or the risk of getting caught."

Namie pressed her lips together, but it was true. I might have. If she had gotten desperate enough to go that far, but things had progressed so quickly. "But would you have gone through with it?" She prodded the ingredients in the pan, turned on the stove, and shook the pan over the fire.

"Well," said Izaya, "Who can say?" He reached for a packet of files on his desk and flipped through it.

"It's not that you lack the confidence to do it," said Namie.

"No." Izaya turned his head to look at her. "Even now, I think I have strings I could pull to do the job discreetly and not get caught." His tone was completely frank.

Namie shivered. "So what changed?"

Izaya looked down. The interest. The thrill. The inclination. "It wouldn't benefit me. I don't want to risk myself that much for someone else, and the idea that I myself would want someone assassinated is simply absurd. I don't care for any of that which would motivate me to take out people for greed's sake: money, power, et cetera." Izaya's hand strayed to the pocket where he kept his knife. "And I take care of my grudges personally."

Namie swallowed hard. "Like Shizuo?" She prodded the stir-fry.

"Precisely."

"Why do you hate him so much?"

"Hate him? Hate him?" Izaya's eyebrows rose high. He stretched and spun his his chair. "Why would I hate him? I love him more than the rest of humanity! And you of all people know how much I love humanity."

Namie heard the telltale signs of a tirade starting. She kept her mouth shut and listened.

"I first clapped eyes on him when I entered middle school. And at the time I thought, 'Aaah, one day it would be so fun to make that guy fight me for seriously.' We didn't meet again for a long while, but I kept it in mind." Izaya stopped the chair's spin. "I knew it couldn't be a safe play-fight. Psychologically he couldn't truly give it his all like that, and the experience wouldn't be worth as much as it might. One thing led to another and I came up with a plan to earn his wrath. It went down about as well as I expected, and as I predicted, Shizuo has hated me in earnest ever since."

Izaya spins around once, throwing his arms around as he does. "I can't describe the kind of pleasure one gets from such a relationship. It's a kind of thrill, an adrenaline rush, followed by intense satisfaction. I don't enjoy being hurt, but turnabout's fair play, isn't it? What happens to me is nothing compared to what I have done to him. When he lets himself go, and lives entirely as a monster with the power of that brutish strength of his, we go for the blood and there is nothing to stop us but our preservation instincts. We take flight and lick our wounds in secrecy. The experience is exquisitely carnal." Izaya licked thin, crocodile lips. "It would almost be a shame to succeed in killing him."

Half repulsed, half fascinated, she asked him, "Then why use the word grudge?"

"Well, I started it all, remember. You need to create a grudge to start a feud." Izaya shrugs as if his answer is totally obvious. But Namie was looking at him very strangely. "What? You got a problem? Do you want to leave or something?"

Namie shook her head. "I've always sensed that was the case. You just put words to the feeling." She paused. "You're quite the sadist. If it was too much for me, then I would have left a long time ago," she said frankly. Once more, she stirred the vegetables in the pain, making sure they were good and lightly cooked.

"Good, then. Because it's one thing about me that I don't see changing." Izaya leapt out of his seat like a cat, and padded into the kitchen. "Is the food ready yet?"

"Just a moment," said Namie, and she turned off the stove.

Shizuo squinted from the top floor of LME, having just changed into his jumpsuit, watching the early-morning crowd. At some point, Izaya would stroll across the floor, and Shizuo would make sure that wherever he was going with his work, it was in the opposite direction from him.

Izaya came in through the doors, almost ran into Moko, chatted with her a bit, then headed for the elevators, tossing his hair. A slight smirk graced his lips, but soon after his face lost the tension it had held. His face became curiously calm.

The sight nearly drove the air from Shizuo's lungs, and he staggered against the railing. When he had finally pulled his eyes away from Izaya's face, he had realized something.

These days, Izaya looked vaguely ... happy.

This state of affairs unsettled Shizuo. In fact, it unbalanced him very badly. Because instead of scorn, or hate, the main feeling that arose in Shizuo's breast was relief.

And that was absurd, because surely the first thing Izaya would do if he was happy was to come after him.

Wouldn't it?

He wondered who he could ask about Izaya's vaguely cheerful aspect.

Oh, wasn't that just ridiculous.

Would anyone besides him even notice?

But... something was different. It was not until now that Shizuo realized he had never seen Izaya genuinely happy. Feigning it, yes, often, and Izaya had more than a fair share of sadistic glee. But Izaya never let himself relax into the feeling, because that would mean dropping his guard.

If Shizuo wanted to attack him, today was the day.

Moko-san, whom Izaya had unofficially been partnered with ever since Mogami-san resigned herself to sticking to Shizuo's side whenever there was possibility for personality conflict, also looked to be less on edge. Moko never outwardly fought with her partner, but she had a sharp tongue, a curt voice, and a wicked glare that she used to match him wit for wit. Izaya was used to that, so it wasn't much of an issue. Izaya seemed to have a healthy respect for Moko, as he did for anyone who held strong opinions. He even left her alone when she needed it.

Shizuo wondered where he had gotten that skill.

The elevator doors were opening. Shizuo turned and walked away quickly. He'd stayed too long.

" 'Sup, Shizzy-chan..." a voice said behind him, with that dry, distinct razor edge that never quite got filed away. But today it didn't sound like Izaya was interested in starting a fight, although using the nickname would have been enough provocation in another time and place.

Shizuo didn't reply, and he didn't turn around, but then again he didn't think Izaya had been expecting a response.

"Moko-san, are you up for a snack?" Shizuo asked Moko during lunch break. He was lucky; they had both come back to the break room at the same time.

Moko checked her watch. "If it's relatively quick, I wouldn't mind. I'm hungry. As long as it's just coworkers."

Shizuo nodded. "Right. I was thinking, just for forty-five minutes or so. Do you like pearl drinks?"

"I do, actually."

"There's a place a couple of blocks away, I'll show you. I've been meaning to try it out for weeks now." He opened the door, Moko walked out in front of him, and they left. Shizuo led the way, trying not to walk too quickly. Moko said she wanted this to be fast, but he didn't want to lose track of her, and although Moko's strides were shorter she was still surprisingly fast. They took the last turn and Shizuo breathed a sigh of relief.

He strode forward and took the door by the handle. "Izaya's attitude seems to have changed a little since the last few weeks. I was wondering if you knew what happened."

"Oh? Izaya? Not much, but he did tell me a little, just to make conversation, once or twice." Moko eyed him. "I know you watch each other like hawks, but you don't talk at all, do you? Which is funny, because when I first met you, I thought we wouldn't be able to separate you. Looked like you were attached at the hip."

Shizuo sighed. "Yes...I knew that's how we would seem. Um, I'll pay. What would you like?"

Moko scanned the menu, told him, then squeezed and struggled through the crowded café to a window seat. A couple of moments later, Shizuo slid into the booth, facing opposite her.

"So, what have you learned about him?"

Moko rested her chin on her hand. "Not much, but... He just has such a distinct personality, you know? Some things I can guess, and that's enough for work. He's been talking about his — what did he call her again? She's not his girlfriend, I don't think, and not quite a roommate either—ah, housekeeper, he called her. But she seems quite business-savvy, the way he talks about her. He was always complaining about her overqualifications making her bored with her work, and when she's bored she makes trouble for him. He says he offered to give her a place to stay after something he did caused her to lose her business. It sounds kind of noble but also kind of...bizarre."

Shizuo frowned and thought. "Yagiri Namie...? That woman?" Was that particular catastrophe Izaya's fault? There were many things that Izaya had done, but that in particular Shizuo hadn't connected to him. Well, if Izaya said so, but...that was surprising. Izaya usually made excuses about such-and-such being someone else's decision and he was only the executor, and so on and so forth, and denied responsibility. Which was one of those things Izaya did that really pissed Shizuo off.

"Yes, I think that was her name," said Moko. She leaned forward. "He seems really attached, which surprised me. He gives off that selfish single-guy vibe, and he doesn't seem like the type who is really very interested in getting dates and girls. Although I'm sure he notices them. You know?"

"That must be recent." Shizuo sipped his drink.

"It felt like that. Anyway, Izaya said she was getting a job again. He seemed really pleased. Almost determinedly so; I think her leaving the apartment to work left him bereft, more than he thought he would be." Moko smiled. "I'd never seen him so relaxed like that. Especially since just a couple weeks ago, he was in a really black mood. I thought he might go search you out and start a fight just to blow off steam."

"I know he tried. Huh." Shizuo had never thought about it that way. "He must genuinely care about her, then. I can hardly believe..." he trailed off, cutting himself off; he was suddenly nervous as to what she would think if he finished that thought. He ended his hanging words quickly: "...but it must be good for him."

"I think so. He's mellowing. You know, he's not such a bad guy in the context of our industry. I don't know what his past entails and what beef he's got with you—"

"Believe me, I wish I knew," Shizuo muttered, and squeezed his drink in his hands before he realized he had done it so hard that tea squirted out. Moko's smile twitched. Shizuo ducked his head in apology and sucked noisily on his drink to hide his embarrassment and make sure it wouldn't happen again, which may have made it worse, he didn't know, and Moko went on.

"Anyway. I've met a lot worse. The moral measure of a guy in our industry usually lies in how they treat girls—their fans, their costars, their love interests, et cetera, although not everyone seems to realize this. And for all his other faults, Izaya mostly treats women with respect. That I've seen, anyway," she added cynically. (Shizuo wonders if Izaya's kid sisters could have had anything to do with that. They were quite a handful. He winces at the thought of them.) "Did you hear what happened to Kyoko during Valentine's last year?"

"No, I didn't hear."

"She's really into Tsuruga-san, if you haven't heard. She's the only one who doesn't know it, though... Anyway, she had one ex- come after her and she ran into a band full of new jerks, and they've been hounding her ever since. The whole thing is really messed up and she doesn't need or want that attention. Tsuruga-san was acting so protective of her afterwards, I wouldn't be surprised if he had to intervene before some kind of crime took place. That's why she was extra nervous when you and Izaya came on staff."

Shizuo winced. He knew about the ex, which had been noted in the file Lory handed him, but not the new interlopers.

"Anyway, Izaya's clearly not the straightest of arrows but he's always treated us okay. For which I'm grateful. You can't say the same for everyone. And you also. You've been kind to Mogami-san. She tells me so whenever I ask her about work."

"I'm just doing my job," Shizuo replied.

Moko shrugged. "Even so, she hasn't had very good experiences with men. You've been a good influence."

"Okay. Thanks for distracting Izaya whenever he's about to come after me."

"No problem. I would do it even if it didn't reflect on how my job turned out." Shizuo spluttered. Moko grinnned. "Well, it's true!"

"He's such an infuriating..." Shizuo said, and couldn't finish.

"I agree. To the nth degree." Moko rolled her eyes.

Shizuo hesitated, then commented, "You must miss working with Kyoko."

"Mmm, yes, a little. But I have her number, and she makes time for me, so don't worry. It's been a relief sometimes. I bet she doesn't turn the demons and the angels on you."

"Demons and angels?"

"Whenever she acts really scary or really pitiful. She makes you root to the spot and then she jumps all over you, and this feeling of absolute doom descends. ...That's how I got stuck in the LoveMe section, actually. She wouldn't let me leave."

"Oh, yeah..." Shizuo thought back. "I guess I have seen her do it to others, but not to me."

"Don't worry, you'll get your turn, trust me," Moko said good-humoredly. She hesitated, and said, "It was good to be able to talk like this."

"Really?" Shizuo sat back in surprise.

"I didn't realize I wanted to talk this badly, actually... Normally I'd talk to Kyoko, but she has this idea in her head about what true friendship is like, and sometimes communicating with her is a little exhausting. Don't get me wrong, she's the best friend I could ask for, the first real friend I've ever had, it's just sometimes..." she sighed. "Too much. She re-interprets everything and idolizes me." Moko snorted. "It's funny. Sort of good, but also sort of bewildering. I'm not usually ... nice. I know I don't mean to be, at least."

"What does she do?"

"Oh, well, for example, when we first met..." Moko launched into a story-telling mode, complete with odd little interjections of "mo!" and annoyed gestures.

Shizuo rests his elbow on the table and listens. Was this how he started talking with Celty? He can't remember, it's been a part of his routine for so long.

Shinra had said he should find another girl to love, soon...

"Kasuka! Kasuka~a~aa! Heiwaji— Hey, OY!" Shizuo bellowed from the first story, leaning over a railing, and cursed himself for almost letting slip Kasuka's real identity in public. He had just changed out of his LoveMe uniform.

All the way across LME, way down at the other end of the lobby floor, Kasuka turned around, met Shizuo's eyes, and gave him the nod. Kasuka put his hands in his pockets, intentionally mimicking the cocky pose Shizuo habitually fell into when standing still. He was waiting.

"Wait up!" Shizuo squeezed through the tide of people and sprinted to Kasuka's side. He clamped one hand on his shoulder so they wouldn't be parted, as the crowds were extra pushy that day.

Another hand slapped Shizuo's wrist, hard; Shizuo, who wasn't ready to let go, accidentally forced Kasuka to lurch to the side (through some magic of his own, Kasuka made the movement look graceful and fluid). The man the hand belonged to looked rather taken aback, as if something he had expected to work suddenly hadn't, and he couldn't figure out why and was a little troubled by it.

Kasuka chuckled.

Shizuo blinked, apologized, and let go of Kasuka's shoulder anyway, since he didn't want to appear antagonistic. But that didn't mean he was going to back down. "Who's this?" He pulled himself up to full height.

The other man frowned at him. If Shizuo had to say, the man's style was that of a stylish young professional. He was almost as tall as Shizuo, so he was almost two feet taller than Kasuka. His clear face was no-nonsense and a little grim, with conventional, neat hair and rimless rectangular glasses. "I should be asking the same question."

"He's my brother," Shizuo said simply.

"Oh, a likely story," the man growled, and took a step forward. "You wouldn't believe the bullsh—" He cut off the curse abruptly, looking somewhat rueful at the professional lapse, and then, determined, opened his mouth to go on—

Kasuka tugged the man's sleeve. "Manager, that's my brother."

"What?" Shocked, the man looked down at Kasuka. "Are you serious?"

Kasuka nodded.

"Manager?" said Shizuo.

"Yes. Because my movie schedule got so busy."

Shizuo's brows knit together. "Do you have somewhere you need to be now?"

"Aaaah..." The manager sucked his breath in between his teeth and slicked his hair back, disguising his unease. "I misunderstood, I'm sorry, I made a mistake... No. According to his schedule, Kasuka is done for the day."

Kasuka looked up at Shizuo. "Work started early today."

"How early?"

Kasuka checked his manager. "5:00 a.m."

"4:30," his manager corrected him automatically.

As if the exact timing mattered. Kasuka shrugged.

"You're not too tired?" Shizuo said, a little anxiously. "I was going to ask you out to eat, if that was okay."

Kasuka shrugged again.

The manager looked at Shizuo with some distress. "I'm really sorry. I should've seen..."

"It's fine," said Kasuka, without looking at him. "You're new."

The manager crossed his arms uncomfortably, looking a little worse for wear.

"Kasuka's really popular, so I don't blame you," Shizuo said, taking pity on the poor man. "And Kasuka's signals are subtle for most people."

"That's why Lory chose me for the role, I think..." the man groaned, responding to Shizuo almost despite himself. "He said it was my sensitivity. But if I can't even..."

Kasuka tugged on his manager's sleeve. "Manager," said Kasuka, slightly louder than usual.

"What?"

Kasuka tipped his face up, making eye contact. "No harm done." Kasuka's hands dropped to his sides.

His manager sighed, and seemed to genuinely relax for the first time.

Shizuo blinked. When they were kids, his mother used to call Shizuo high-strung, and complain (softly) that he should try to emulate his brother. This never seemed to work when Shizuo was by himself, but Kasuka's influence usually did help dampen Shizuo's reactivity when they were together in a way that nobody else could. The term could describe his new manager as well. Kasuka seemed to have a similar calming effect on him as he had with Shizuo.

Kasuka smiled at Shizuo. "Lovely."

"What would you like?"

"Sukiyaki."

"Old haunt, new haunt?"

Kasuka's shy smile crept up. "Old. Ikebukuro. We'll take you." Kasuka whispered some instructions to his manager, who snapped to atttention. Shizuo's answering smile was both nostalgic and slightly lame.

"I think you owe us a proper introduction," Kasuka's manager said, a little nervously.

Kasuka shook his head. "When the crowds pass," he replied tersely.

Shizuo ignored that. "Shizuo Heiwajima, older brother of Kasuka and employee of LME." Shizuo bowed slightly.

"Kiyotaka Hikawa, Kasuka's manager." Hikawa bowed back.

"When did you and Kasuka start working together?"

"Two weeks ago," Hikawa replies. "As you can see, it's been a little rough." He smiles ruefully. "I can't believe he's been handling the attention by himself for so long."

Shizuo coughs and looks away. "I, uh, had no idea..." He's usually the one playing Kasuka's bodyguard, albeit from a distance, whenever Kasuka went to Ikebukuro, which for a long time was the only place where Kasuka was seriously popular.

"Shizuo's been taking care of me for a while," Kasuka chipped in, surprising them both. "In Ikebukuro."

"I heard you got a death threat the last time you went there," Hikawa said.

"Ah—aah... He showed up," said Kasuka.

He was never much inclined to hide the truth, Shizuo thought ruefully. Now Hikawa was going to ask questions. And he was going to have to explain.

"What happened?"

"Shizuo stopped him," Kasuka said.

"What?!"

"It was not the kind of thing you ever want to witness," Shizuo said hastily, in case Hikawa got the wrong idea. Kasuka was only going to confuse him more.

Hikawa kind of looked at him as if Shizuo had grown two heads.

"He was a nut, but he wasn't really a fan," said Shizuo. "Supposedly it was his girlfriend, but someone else—"

"How do you know?" said Hikawa. "Surely you didn't have time to ask him questions!"

"Not him, no. It was posted on the internet before the attack."

"Then—"

"If Lory finds out who was behind it he will probably kill me. It was a one-off anyway," said Shizuo. "Suffice to say it will never happen again because it didn't happen for the reasons that you would consider a direct threat to Kasuka in your line of work. Like sheer popularity. This time wasn't random. Only someone with outside sources and knowledge could have predicted it."

"Um..."

Kasuka said, "Manager Hikawa-san, it's really all right. This was all in the past. If you keep asking questions, Shizuo will lose his job."

"Okay," said Hikawa, overwhelmed. He glued his mouth shut.

"I wasn't going to tell him anything," Shizuo protested.

Kasuka just frowned at him (now who's the truth-telling one, Shizuo thought to himself guiltily) then turned to Hikawa and said, almost as a rebuke, "You should feel better because there are two people protecting me instead of just one." One, which means you. Shizuo bet Kasuka hasn't said anything quite so long or forceful to Hikawa so far.

Hikawa swallowed hard. "Okay, yeah. Um. Right." He looked so conflicted. For the second time, Shizuo felt a little sorry for him. Lory Takarada did pick the right manager for his brother; Shizuo knew that with most people, it would have taken months or years for Kasuka to have picked up the easygoing responsiveness and the singleminded focus he had on Hikawa and Hikawa's feelings. If Hikawa really had a hard time with Kasuka, Kasuka would be ignoring him outright. But Hikawa would not be confident of himself for a while yet, because that was just how these things went.

"Nii-san," Kasuka said, pulling Shizuo back to attention.

"Oh! Sorry, I was just thinking." Shizuo glanced at Hikawa. "I didn't expect him to be here."

"Should I leave?" Hikawa asked.

Kasuka uneasily shifted in his seat. He clearly didn't want to be rude to Hikawa.

"No, you don't have to," Shizuo said, and Kasuka stopped shifting. "It's just—it'll be a little over your head. It's about old friends of ours. Can you bear it for a while?"

Hikawa nodded.

Shizuo filled Kasuka in on his role in the saga of Celty and her head. (Shizuo wondered what Hikawa could possibly have gotten out of this part, had he been listening instead of texting on his cell phone.) When Shizuo got to his epiphany, when he realized he loved Celty, Kasuka sighed and stopped the story.

"Baka." Kasuka crossed his arms and frowned at Shizuo.

"I know..." Shizuo groaned.

"Better not to confess than to confess late," said Kasuka, frowning at Shizuo.

"That's not what the storybooks say," Shizuo says gloomily. "Though I can see it both ways. But what do I do, Kasuka?"

"She made her decision."

"So suck it up, you're saying," Shizuo summarized, brutally honest. "But what if I can't? I don't want my feelings for her to last past the wedding. I'd never be able to face her again."

"Then they won't."

"Kasuka, feelings don't do what you want them to do," Shizuka said, a little testily.

"True. But." Kasuka shrugged.

"But everyone else gets through this so I should too, huh? Well that's a lot of help, Kasuka!" Shizuo sat back and scowled.

When Kasuka looked up, his face was completely blank and devoid of emotion.

Shizuo immediately regretted putting pressure on Kasuka. He shrunk a little. "No, I'm the one who should be saying that..."

They were both staring out the window lost in thought when suddenly Kasuka said, "Get her a good wedding present. Don't hold anything back."

"Huh?" Shizuo blinked.

"Put enough effort and money into it that you regret the expense, something so desirous she will never forget you for it. Even if you never see each other again."

Shizuo's eyebrows knit together. "I don't really get it, but if you say so."

Kaskua simply nodded.

"So, now that I have kept you up on my life story, I have some questions for you."

"Then say them."

"How did you end up with a manager?"

Kasuka looked up. "Hikawa-san. Hikawa-san."

"Hm?" Hikawa flipped his phone shut. "What? Kasuka-san?"

Shizuo sighed, wishing that Kasuka was a little more forthcoming. "Hikawa-san, I've been wanting to ask for a while, but how did you come to be Kasuka's manager...?"

"Oh, it's very simple really..." Hikawa was happy to respond. He chattered away and though Shizuo always kept an eye on him watching for minute reactions, Kasuka stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting until they were forced to take leave, and then Kasuka said goodbye.

"Konbanwa, Rinku-ojisan."

"Moshimoshi. Eh? Eh? Yashiro-kun?" Uncle Rinku's voice was baffled.

"Yes, that's me," Yashiro said.

"I wasn't expecting you," said Uncle Rinku.

"I heard something about you from a guy named Simon. At a Russian Sushi restaurant."

"Simon," Rinku repeated. "I see."

"He said you were working for a company with bad rumors about it," Yashiro ventured tentatively.

"I'm quite all right."

"I hope so."

"You're too sweet."

Yashiro shook his head. "No... I just took some friendly advice, is all."

"It was drunken raving, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

Uncle Rinku was silent for a while. "Probably."

"Simon said you were looking for somebody to test for psychic powers."

"I did? I don't think so. I must have been desperate. That's not"—Rinku coughed—"really part of my company's mandate, you see. Although I can see why you would be interested."

"Yes, it would be nice not to break any watch that comes in contact with my skin for thirty seconds. —What does the company do, then?"

"Pharmaceuticals, of course. It used to be called Yagiri Pharmaceuticals. The new name is Nebula Pharma."

"Ah. Simon seemed to think it was a front."

"Well..." Yashiro could almost hear Rinku mentally squirming.

Yashiro rubbed his forehead. "You're not in financial trouble of any kind, are you?"

"What? No, of course not. I'm not even in the investing business anymore."

"What are you doing then?"

"Accounting."

Yashiro breathed a sigh of relief. That sounded stable and non-suspicious...at least at first glance. "Okay. It's just, the things you said to Simon made it seem like you stumbled onto a big secret of some kind."

Uncle Rinku's voice was quiet. "You really have grown up. These things happen. It is nothing to worry about."

"If you have any doubts at all, don't keep silent, Uncle. Come see me."

"You're a good nephew, but I couldn't impose on you. No. Let your dear uncle investigate on his own for a while. There might be nothing wrong, after all."

"Come see me if things get difficult," Yashiro insisted. "And be careful. Please."

"We'll see. It's a small thing, I might be wrong."

"Please."

"I promise, ere I swallow a thousand needles."

Yashiro tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly blocked his throat, and forced himself to choke the words out: "Thank you. Goodbye."

"It was good to hear from you. Goodbye."

Yashiro hung up the phone on its hook and turned to Tsuruga-san. "He's up to something," he said, and cleared his throat.

"Something big?"

Yashiro shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. He's only doing accounting..."

Tsuruga shrugged and said, "He may discover something, whether he likes it or not."

"Precisely," Yashiro said, sounding troubled.

Tsuruga patted his manager's shoulder. "Probably it will be fine."

"I know, but...the whole thing is much too strange."

"Kyoko!"

"Hai? Tsuruga-san."

"I have something to talk to you about...did you head over to Sawara-san's office already?"

"What? No, not yet. Why?"

Tsuruga panicked and backpedaled.

"It's—it's congratulations I mean to say. We're acting...opposite..." Tsuruga grimaced. Anything to keep away from Izaya. What he was saying was true, but there was no way she was going to take this calmly, and he wasn't sure if she was even supposed to know yet. He wanted to talk it over with her, but now that he was right in front of her, there was just no way that was going to happen.

"Huh?"

"You passed auditions for Beauty and the Beast," Tsuruga said slowly, when his heart had calmed down, and then he waited for the penny to drop. "So congratulations. I am also in the production."

Kyoko's jaw dropped open and she stared at him for a few seconds in shock, and then she put her hands to her ears and shrieked, running around in small circles and having hysterics and completely forgetting who was there to see.

"Me? With Tsuruga-san? Inconceivable! Why would they put such an inexperienced actress alongside the great Tsuruga-san...? This must be a dream! A dream! Tell me, this must be a DREAM! Tsuruga-san is too perfect—! Yes, too perfect for the role, someone would interfere and the loveliness would be shattered! It's TOO GOOD to be TRUE! Ahhhh! How am I ever going to live up to his image? I don't want to stain Tsuruga-san's career—!"

Tsuruga winced and quietly, very quietly, edged away.

"Eh? He's gone! What happened? I can't believe this is happening that had to be a hallucination of some kind! Kyaaaaa~!"

Luckily Moko came along and got her calmed down enough to help her start making sense, although Kyoko was so throughly thrown for a loop that she didn't quite emerge from daydreams for the rest of the day.

Author's Note: Please review! I really worked hard on this chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts on it!