I was originally planning to wait to post this chapter until I had finished writing the next one, but that might take me a while, so here you go!

As always, thank you all so much for reviewing, favoriting, and following!

Disclaimer: I do not own the series. I only own my OC.

Justice Blooming Out Of Season

"We need to talk."

A weighted pause filled the space between them, as if they were two American cowboys in the seconds before a standoff. At any moment, one of them would draw a silver gun from their hip and fire.

Had the air always been this stifling?

After another moment, Akira let out a casual laugh, cringing when her voice involuntarily cracked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I said."

"But there's nothing to talk about—"

"Do not lie to me, Akira."

Akira's breath seized in her throat, any excuse that she could have come up with dissipating like spun sugar on her tongue. This wasn't the Kei she knew. The Kei she knew was calm and collected. She liked sweets and hated vegetables, and despite running away from her hugs, Akira knew that her sister loved her dearly.

The Kei that she knew was not standing in front of her.

The Kei that was standing in front of her had eyes clouded with anger, eyes that peered down at her in harsh disappointment.

Why did it hurt so much now?

"Kei-chan..."

"I don't want to hear any more excuses. Tell me what's going on." Then, as if reading Akira's mind, she added, "And don't try to avoid the subject—I will know if you're lying."

There it was again—that feeling of frustration that accompanied a time of human weakness. It began frothing and bubbling in Akira's chest, and no matter how hard she pressed and pressed and pressed, she could not stifle it. It was about as futile as pushing a lid on top of a seething pot—you might be able to suppress it for a little bit, but all that would do is make the unavoidable eruption worse.

"Why are you getting involved in something that isn't your problem?" Akira snapped, her anger beginning to tear at the seams. "You always try to fix everything, but that's not your responsibility! Why can't you just stay out of things—"

"This is just as much your problem as it is mine!"

Akira recoiled instantly as Kei's words whipped at her, her eyes wide with shock.

Kei never raised her voice. Kei was always the calm one, the peaceful one, the... the responsible one.

After noticing Akira's frightened expression, Kei sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, I should not have raised my voice. But, Akira," she continued, fixing her sister with a stern look, "you can't do everything by yourself. It will only end in more suffering if you try."

At her words, all the bottled up tension and anger and frustration seemed to melt out of Akira, leaving nothing but sadness in her shell of a body, and she limply fell to her knees on the floor. The large shirt she was wearing drooped around her shoulders, further completing her personified look of defeat. "I... I only wanted to protect you," she mumbled quietly, her eyes blank.

Kei silently approached her sister's defeated form, kneeling down in front of her and gently grasping her shoulders. After Akira's chin sluggishly jerked up, Kei spoke.

"You have already done your best to protect me," she said softly. "Now it's my job to protect you."

"But you might get hurt—!"

"That's not important," Kei interrupted, her expression uncharacteristically soft. "Besides, you were the one who got hurt when you tried to help me—it wouldn't be fair if I didn't return the favor."

Akira meekly drew her arms close to her chest as her body trembled, the weight of her words finally sinking in. Despite the small tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, she let out a short laugh. Looking up at Kei with a wry smile, she said, "Since when have you been so grown-up?"

"Since I had you as a sister."

Silence settled between them once again, but it was more calming than suffocating this time, like the peaceful serenity that came after a rainstorm, when all that was left was the dripping leaves and the grey clouds speared with sunlight.

Finally, Akira collected herself and stood up, gingerly wiping at her eyes. "So, what should we do?" she asked, her words connected by a long sigh.

Kei crossed her arms over her chest as she thought. "I'm certain Tetsuo is planning something already. You shouldn't go back to Ayakashi—it's not safe anymore."

"But—!"

"No buts."

Akira sighed, her shoulders wilting. "Fine... what about Hiro?"

"What about him?"

"I could call him and ask him—"

Kei shook her head. "Hiro can't help us. He is part of Tetsuo's sphere of influence—getting involved with him will only turn out badly."

"I guess—how about Mom and Dad?"

"Mom and Dad are overseas right now, they won't be able to do anything."

"Yeah, you're right. It might be better not to worry them, anyway."

"Also, no more late-night escapades."

"Yeah, yeah."

"And no more runs to the liquor store. I'll let you keep what you already have, but once that's used up, you can't buy any more."

"Why don't you just kill me now?"

Kei shot her a piercing glare. "Akira," she muttered warningly.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Jeez, you can be really scary when you want to be!"

"I'm not taking any chances this time," Kei replied, her eyes suddenly morose. "I don't want you to get hurt again."

Akira glanced at her sister with slight surprise before an easy-going smile stretched her face, and she wrapped an arm around Kei's shoulders. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

Kei gave Akira a withered look, as if her sister's gooey affection was physically unbearable. "Stop."

"Actually, little Kei-chan is probably the purest person in the universe!"

"Stop."

Giggling lightly, Akira finally relented, releasing her sister's shoulders and twirling over to the kitchen stove. Kei shot her a questioning glance as she set a pan on the heating stovetop and began pulling assorted items from the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinner, obviously."

"Why?"

A genuine smile, the first one in a long time, traced over Akira's features. "If my little sister is going so far just to make me happy, she deserves a good dinner."

As Akira cracked two eggs in one hand and dropped them into the pan, Kei sighed tiredly and slumped onto the couch.

"You always say such strange things."

The rest of the week had been a bit of a blur to Kei.

Most of it just constituted her and Akira proceeding with their daily lives, albeit with proportionally more caution. Neither of them walked home alone anymore, for one thing. They also had to spend an entire day latching all the windows and fixing the locks on the doors, which resulted in two pairs of sore hands full of wooden splinters and an hour of painful plucking that was, at best, an inconvenience.

And, suspiciously, Izaya hadn't been bothering either of them that much, aside from the occasional morning greeting and the like (which they tended to ignore, anyway).

Kei knew that his absence meant that he was plotting something beneath the surface, but at the time, she couldn't find it in herself to care. She existed in a state of permanent bliss, and nothing could bring her out of it.

However, good things can't last forever. In time, honeyed fruit will fester from its tree, berries will rot, and sugared cakes will mold, leaving behind the saturated spoils that were once sweet.

It was the beginning of the next week when Kei's newfound peace and quiet began to decay.

Over the past few months, the school's rooftop had become a regular escape for her, as the only things that existed up there were the sky, the clouds, and Shizuo.

She had actually stuck with her "coffee for rent" idea, despite the fact that Shizuo repeatedly reminded her that it wasn't necessary. (She noticed he never complained, though—most likely because he was getting a free drink.)

Those days were peaceful. Kei would toss a can of coffee (always sweetened, as neither of them could tolerate the bitterness of regular coffee) over to him, patch up any small cuts or bruises that he had, and then spend the rest of the time in comfortable silence, occasionally making idle conversation. Neither of them were very chatty people—the longest discussion they had was a debate over whether chocolate or vanilla was the superior flavor. (That argument was never really settled, as both parties had passionate claims about the semantics of sweets.)

Life was normal.

Sometimes, there would be small incidents. Shizuo, being Shizuo, was continuously dealt a bad hand in the form of waning gangs that attempted to gain social footing by jumping him on school grounds. On those days, Kei sat on the rooftop by herself and waited, and approximately 15 minutes later, Shizuo would kick open the door and slump next to her, sporting rumpled clothes and minor injuries.

That pushed her into the habit of constantly carrying around bandages, antiseptic, and medical plasters.

Her presence was calming to Shizuo, too. He never verbally admitted it, lest Shinra get the wrong idea and try to play matchmaker, but it always relaxed him to see her waiting there after a particularly irritating fight. When he sat down next to her, there was no judgement, no anger, no disappointment—there were only medical plasters, a still-warm can of coffee, and her tranquil presence.

In that small pocket of time and space, he never felt like a monster or an outcast—he just felt like a regular teenager having lunch with a friend and talking about unimportant things.

But one day, he was not there—and he wouldn't appear for the rest of the lunch period.

Shizuo had already been through three fights that day, and his patience was wearing thin—well, even thinner than normal. Like comparing a pancake to a crêpe.

Or maybe he was just getting hungry. It was almost lunch, after all.

Just as he passed the school's courtyard, someone (or multiple someones) annoyingly obstructed his path.

"Hey, are you that Heiwajima Shizuo guy?"

"Looks like a little bitch to me!"

Shizuo could feel his temper coiling, pulling tighter and tighter, but he tried to curb it to the best of his ability. If he got into another scuffle, then it'd be the fifth time that week that he kept Kei waiting.

"Yo, dip-shit, why don't you fucking look at the people talking to you?"

If only the strength of his resolve matched the strength of his body.

Taking his deadly silence as a sign of surrender, the ringleader of the gang let out a snarky laugh, gesturing for his buddies to surround Shizuo. Then, he exaggeratedly swaggered up to the taller boy, bumping the baseball bat that he had painstakingly decorated with iron nails against his right shoulder.

"The hell are you just standin' there for, punk?!"

He roughly poked the tip of the bat at Shizuo's chest, guffawing loudly after no reaction came from his opponent. The circle surrounding Shizuo tittered along with their leader, and they started to close in on him like a pack of hungry hyenas.

"You know, if I wasn't in such a bad mood, I might've just ignored you," Shizuo muttered.

The ringleader sniffed and jerked his chin up. "Huh, what'd you say to me? You fuckin' puss—"

Before he could finish the rest of his clearly Shakespearean insult, Shizuo had roughly grabbed him by the leg and thrown him into the sky, where he disappeared as a tiny speck in the heavens. Several seconds later, he landed on the ground a few meters away with a definitive crunching sound. It would be a lucky break for him if he escaped with just a shattered tailbone.

There's always a moment after one witnesses such inhuman feats where they feel like they need a minute to fully comprehend what had just occurred. That such moment traversed through the group, as the thugs were still reeling from the mental impact of watching their leader get thrown in the air as if he were nothing more than a chewed-up rag doll.

It was after one stationary minute that the rest of the gang reacted accordingly after spectating such a violent scene—"accordingly" meaning they suddenly got their daily doses of testosterone all at once and decided that now was when they needed to fuck this bastard up.

"You fucking psycho!"

"Son of a bitch, we'll kill you!"

Shizuo's chest heaved as the familiar adrenaline that accompanied his violent outbursts began bubbling up, his anger practically steaming off of him in waves. One delinquent foolishly took this as a chance to charge, and he ran headfirst toward Shizuo, his metal crowbar raised up and ready to attack.

Immediately, Shizuo's hand shot out, wrenched the crowbar into a disproportionate metal pretzel, and yanked the guy toward his waiting fist. With a crack and a spurt of blood, the man was sent flying over the courtyard and into the bushes, projecting a puff of leaves into the air.

An unsettling silence befell the atmosphere, the group of gang members too stunned and too terrified to move. Shizuo slowly walked over to where the school's flagpole stood and wrapped his hand around its base. Then, letting out a tremendous roar, he roughly jerked his arm upward and uprooted the metal pole, the stone beneath it cracking and splintering from the sudden pull.

As if a switch had been flipped, the pack rushed him all at once.

One ran forward, brandishing a knife as he attempted to ambush Shizuo from behind. With a ferocious yell, Shizuo swung the pole around, catching the guy directly in the gut and sweeping out several others at the same time.

Another jumped in the air in an attempt to pounce on Shizuo's back. Shizuo tucked the pole under his arm and spun backward, his fist colliding with the idiot's face. Blood streamed from his nose, and a few golden teeth popped out on his way down.

Another had been struck so hard he went airborne. Shizuo tossed the flagpole upward, smacking the makeshift human baseball out of the air and into a nearby car on the opposite street.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, HUUUH?!"

Soon, his monstrous rage had completely engulfed him. Any thought of Kei waiting for him on the roof vanished in an instant, the only words flashing through his head being violent exclamations.

They kept coming, more and more and more and more, as if for each thug he beat down, four others would appear in his place.

And then, all of a sudden, it was over. The bottom end of the flagpole banged against the ground, a tall outlier amongst the unconscious bodies that littered the ground.

Shizuo flicked his wrist to the side, splashing the blood on his knuckles against the stone pathway. As he panted from the ebbing waves of the adrenaline rush, his previous thoughts finally caught up with him.

Damn it, not again.

He absently turned his head upward, gazing at the fence surrounding the rooftop.

"Hey, do you go to Raijin?"

Shizuo violently brandished his makeshift weapon in front of him as he faced the direction of the foreign voice, his features contorted with anger. The person standing in front of him was tall, almost as tall as him, and there was a dark shadow of a beard covering his chin. He quickly held his hands up in surrender.

"Woah, I'm not looking for a fight, I just wanted to ask you something," he said smoothly, his voice somehow rich and gravelly at the same time.

Letting the pole loosen in his grip and standing up straight, Shizuo shot the stranger a guarded look. "Make it quick."

"Do you know someone named Amane Kei?"

Shizuo cautiously brought the pole in front of his body again. "Why do you ask?"

The man shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to relax the atmosphere between them. "Sorry, that's a bit of a confidential subject."

Shizuo felt a sudden urge to punch the stranger in the face. "You're the one asking me for an answer."

"You got me there. Fine, all I'll say is she's got some business with us," he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "So, you know her?"

Shaking his head, Shizuo abruptly dropped the flagpole, picked up his abandoned schoolbag, and turned away. "Sorry, guy, but you're gonna have to ask someone else."

The man narrowed his eyes, but his chill tone remained. "That's too bad. Appreciate your cooperation, though."

Shizuo ignored him as he entered the school building and began walking up the stairs. Maybe he should've told that guy the truth—after all, what if he was important to Kei or something? What if something urgent had happened and she was needed?

But then again, the guy looked pretty sketchy to be walking on school grounds in the middle of the day.

Whatever, he thought to himself as he opened the door to the rooftop. I'll just ask her about it later.

Shizuo had not reached the rooftop that day, but Kei was not alone.

She froze in place after pushing the door open, her eyes meeting the sinister gaze of Orihara Izaya.

He grinned at her and waved.

"Yo!"

"Izaya-san..." she trailed off, as if his vision seemed ethereal. "It has been a while since I last saw you."

"Indeed, it has!" he chirped, skipping over to her and tugging her out from the doorway. "Come on, why don't we catch up?"

Kei gently pulled her hand out of his grip. "I'm waiting for someone—"

"Ah, you mean Shizu-chan? He's a little busy right now, so it's just the two of us today!"

Busy? Just as the thought entered her mind, the sound of groaning metal and a tremendous roar reached her ears, accompanied by a chorus of terrified screams. She narrowed her eyes darkly, eliciting an amused chuckle from Izaya.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she let out a tired sigh, as if she were a babysitter being badgered to look at a toddler's terrible crayon drawing. "What do you want?"

"Ah, Kei-chan, cold as always!" Lazily throwing an arm around her shoulder, Izaya smirked. "Is it so bad for me to want to catch up with my good friend?"

"We are not friends."

"Ouch, how cruel! Are you sure you weren't a delinquent in your past life? That would explain why you enjoy hanging around that monster, wouldn't it?"

As if on cue, another feral growl reverberated in the air, and Kei could just barely see the tip of the school's flagpole as it flew into the sky. A small twinge of worry entered her mind, and it was that feeling that made her brush off Izaya and stalk back to the door.

Just as she put one foot past the threshold, two hands grabbed her, one on each wrist. Her head immediately whipped around, her normally static eyes now alight with annoyance.

Izaya found it disturbingly beautiful, and a smirk appeared on his face.

"What's with the rush, Kei-chan?" A mocking gasp left his mouth. "No way, don't tell me—you're not actually worried for that single-celled beast, are you?"

Kei frowned, and Izaya mentally noted that it was her first show of emotion that he'd encountered. A small part of him was annoyed at the fact that it was the mention of that protozoan freak that evoked such a reaction in the first place—however, that part of his mind was tiny and silent, overpowered by the overwhelming satisfaction he felt in that moment. Now, he had evidence in the form of a mental snapshot that his pursuits were not in vain, that even someone as emotionally restrained as Kei had limits.

And, he realized bitterly, her limit had bleached-blonde hair and was currently wrecking the school's courtyard.

After a minute had passed and the only thing she had done was attempt to pry her wrists away, Izaya decided to poke at the smoldering coals.

"Wait a minute—do you actually like that monster?"

Kei turned away, fearing that her expression would betray her. Izaya could read her too easily if he could see her eyes—but then again, he could tell when she was lying either way.

So, she told him a truth. Not the truth, but a truth nonetheless.

"Shizuo-san is not a monster."

Izaya's mouth formed a small "oh" in fake surprise. "So you're not denying it?"

"You asked me if I liked 'that monster,' but there is no such thing."

Now this was interesting. Without warning, Izaya twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her body to curl against his in a very... compromising position. He leaned forward so that her shoulder blades pressed against his chest, his chin floating centimeters above her left shoulder.

"You're quite selfish, Kei-chan," he said, his voice a chilling whisper. He could feel the restrained shiver that traveled up her spine, a conniving smile on his face. He relished in waiting for her response.

"A statement like that is ironic to hear from someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Yes—someone whose actions are for their own benefit, regardless of how it affects other people." Her voice was unexpectedly even as she spoke, concealing whatever inner thoughts she may have had.

"How hypocritical of you, Kei-chan."

Her throat suddenly became dry, a sour taste filling her mouth. Izaya noticed her silence, and he used it to his advantage.

"You say that I'm selfish because I do things for my own benefit, correct? That definition is quite specific," he said, pressing even closer until his mouth was right next to her ear. "And yet, you fail to recognize that quality in yourself—or maybe it's that you refuse to?"

It was at this point that Kei began to struggle within his grip, her muscles tensing as her attempts only made him pull her closer.

"Let go of me—"

"Ah, how come you only try to escape now? Is it that you want to run away?"

"..."

"Haven't you learned by now that it's impossible to run away from your problems? I mean, I'm sure Akira-san definitely understands that at this point."

Kei's face blanched. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Back to what I was saying before—if doing things for your own benefit is selfish, then what would you call what you're doing right now?"

"You're the one who won't let me leave."

"Yes, but have you taken into consideration how that affects me? For all you know, your complete avoidance of me could be horribly hurting my feelings!"

"You don't have any feelings to be hurt."

"Ow, harsh." Izaya swiftly transferred her other wrist to his left hand so that he held both in his iron grip, his other hand moving up and tugging at the gold ribbon Kei had tied into her hair. Izaya absently noted that the tips of her hair just barely brushed her shoulders—she must have gotten a haircut. "Well, what about that single-celled brute? Would you care if he was affected?"

Kei stopped struggling.

Izaya hated talking about that protozoan in any and every situation, but seeing it was advantageous, he swallowed the disgust he felt and continued to prompt her. "I see that the muscle-head still doesn't know about your ability, right?"

A pause. "He hasn't asked."

"Do you want him to?"

Silence.

Izaya smirked. "Why is it that you haven't told him about it?"

Kei, for the first time in her life, floundered for a response. "He... he should not get involved—"

"Involved in what, exactly?"

Realizing her slip-up, Kei snapped her mouth shut. Izaya's smile grew, and he began looping the smooth silk of her ribbon between his fingers.

"You keep making these excuses, trying to put the blame on someone else, when the fact of the matter is," he paused, taking the time to blow cold air next to her ear, "you don't want him to know."

Kei shut her eyes, attempting to block out Izaya's voice, but the feeling of his chest against her back, his fingers tangling her hair, his hand twisting her wrists—they kept reminding her that he was there, that she was here, and that she couldn't run away.

She could never run away.

"You said that he wasn't a monster—what does that make you, then?"

There was a significantly long silence before she responded.

"A human."

Izaya chuckled lowly after sensing the hesitation in her voice. "It seems like you don't even believe that yourself. Let me guess: being around him lets you pretend that you're normal, right?"

Kei's breath caught in her throat as she retorted, "I am normal."

"No, you're not—don't lie to yourself. The thing is, you just want to keep on going like you have been. As long as everything around you remains the same, you can trick yourself into thinking that you're normal. One of the things that must remain the same for that illusion to work is for Shizu-chan to never find out about what you are."

"That's not true—"

"Really, Kei-chan, you've got to stop lying. Anyway, the reason that you don't want him to know is because you don't know what his response will be. For someone who prides herself on reading people, you really don't know him at all, do you?"

Kei couldn't help the twinge she felt at his harsh words. Of course, Izaya noticed this minuscule change in her aura, and his smirk grew tenfold.

"It's this uncertainty in yourself that prevents you from telling him the truth—there's always the possibility of rejection, and because being rejected by someone who is just as unnatural as you would be hitting ultimate rock bottom, it would then raise the question of where you actually fit in, right? Well, I can answer that for you: you don't."

"Stop talking—"

"Now, taking all of this into consideration, let's remember your definition of selfish, hm? You said that someone who only does things for their own benefit is 'selfish.' So what does that make you, Kei-chan?" Kei began fighting more intently now, but it was fruitless. Despite his frame, Izaya was much stronger than he looked.

"A person who lies about who she really is to another monster that, for some reason, holds the smallest bit of significance, just so she can live a few more days playing 'I'm A Regular Human' even though it'll all come crashing down." Izaya grinned, and Kei could feel it against the back of her neck.

It made her sick.

"If I were you, Kei-chan, I'd call a person like that selfish. So, in the end, we really aren't that different, are we?"

Izaya finally loosened his grip, and Kei immediately darted away from him, her heart thundering with a flurry of emotions. Angry, sad, flustered—Izaya could see them all, mixing together in a rolling cloud that hid behind the waves of her translucent eyes.

Izaya couldn't help the feeling of pride that swelled up in him. He had unearthed another emotion that Kei had buried leagues below her heart: humiliation. The satisfaction overwhelmed him, and he let it out in a fit of laughter.

"Kei-chan, you just get more and more fascinating by the day!"

Kei straightened her shoulders, the power of her cold glare weakened by the clear confusion she felt. "Why do you do this?"

Skipping over, he placed one hand on his hip, while the other gently tilted her chin up.

"Because, I happen to find Kei-chan very interesting," he replied, echoing his words from a time that felt like years ago.

Before Kei could react, perhaps by slapping his hand away or retorting with an icy remark, Izaya strode over to the rooftop's fence, flipped over it, and disappeared.

Kei silently wished he would plummet to the ground, but that would never happen—he had the reflexes of a wildcat (albeit a sociopathic and horribly manipulative wildcat).

She lingered there for a little while longer, her mind still racing over what had just occurred. Her reactions had been slipping under what she quickly realized was a false sense of security.

Her ribbon was gone, too.

A small part of her believed him, believed everything that he had been spouting off. However, another part of her loudly reminded her not to believe anything he said at any time ever. The two opposing halves of her mind continued to battle it out, leaving her at a loss of what to do.

What was the point of trying to protect her friends if it didn't matter in the end?

No, Izaya was lying.

Was he really?

I can't tell either way.

As these thoughts swirled around her mind, a sudden memory came to her. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the contacts in it until one familiar name reached her eyes.

[Celty Sturluson]

Her thumb floated over the button contemplatively. She didn't want to get a nice person like Celty involved, but at the same time...

Well, if you ever need someone to listen, you can always come to me!

She had said that, right? She would understand her problems, her concerns, her fears...

Celty was someone she could trust.

Just as Kei pressed her finger against the 'call' button, a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Sorry I'm late."

Immediately, Kei snapped her phone shut and slid it back into her bag. "It's fine," she replied as Shizuo approached her. Her eyes quickly scanned over his form, taking note of the small cut on his cheek and the caked blood on his knuckles.

Noticing her eyes studying his bloodied hand, Shizuo waved her off. "It isn't mine."

Kei nodded silently before falling into the usual routine, pulling out disinfectant wipes from her schoolbag. Shizuo fixed her with a slightly concerned glance as he sat down in front of her.

"What's wrong?"

Her movements paused for a tiny millisecond, but it was long enough for Shizuo to notice. "I'm a little tired, that's all," she replied robotically, not looking up at him as she passed a few disinfectant wipes over.

He took them from her wordlessly, beginning to rub the dried blood off of his knuckles. "Oh, by the way, some guy was asking about you."

Kei's shoulder tensed up instantly, all of her previous fears crashing against her in one big wave—no, a tsunami would be more accurate.

"What?"

Shizuo eyed her cautiously before continuing. "Yeah, he was about as tall as me, looked pretty sketchy, and he said you had some business with him." His brows furrowed. "Do you know him?"

She shook her head. "No."

Why was she still lying?

Shizuo gave her one last questioning look before shrugging his shoulders and pulling out a packet of cigarettes, not taking note of the slight tremor in Kei's shoulders.

She quickly collected her thoughts before he could ask any more questions and popped the tab off her can of coffee. As long as she had food in her mouth, she could stop the words from falling out.

Was she finally at the point where she could tell him everything?

No, it had only been a random encounter. If she played her cards right, she could still keep Shizuo as far away from the situation as possible, which meant that she could avoid telling him about what she was for as long as necessary.

The coffee tasted bitter on her tongue.

I am selfish.

The breeze ruffled the edges of Izaya's jacket as he stood on the roof of a random building in the city. As he waited for a phone call to come in, he idly flipped through the snippets of his conversation with Kei.

Either he was getting better at reading her, or she was getting sloppier at hiding it.

After he had pried open the floodgates that barred all of her inner thoughts and fears, he noticed that they began to bleed not only into her expressions, but also her words. Each cryptic answer she gave him that day was a delightful puzzle for him to put together.

Shizuo-san is not a monster... That's what I am.

You're the one who won't let me leave... I'm using you as an excuse for not fighting back.

He shouldn't get involved... I don't want him to get hurt.

A human... I want to be human.

Stop talking... Stop pointing out the truth.

Izaya could see the hairline cracks beginning to form in her façade—as tiny and imperceptible as they were, he knew they were there. That wouldn't be an issue for long, as he had the nail to drive it in.

However, the nail was a single-celled protozoan that was completely immune to manipulation, despite having the combined IQ of a toaster strudel and a plastic fork—but it was a nail nonetheless.

Now all he needed was the hammer.

As if one cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. After waiting for a few moments, Izaya flipped it open and held it close to his ear.

"Hello-hello! What do you need, Hiro-san?"

"Look, I'm not sure that we should get involved with the guy you told us to go after."

A smirk appeared on Izaya's face. "And why's that?"

"Well, the guys I paid to rough him up all ended up getting their asses beat. Dude ripped a goddamn flagpole out of the ground."

"I warned you that he was a monster," Izaya said matter-of-factly, picking at his cuticles with a disinterested expression.

"I've learned not to take anything you say at face-value," Hiro retorted coldly. "Anyway, when I asked him if he knew Kei, he just brushed me off and told me to go ask someone else. Pretty sure you might've gotten the wrong guy."

Izaya's face fell, his eyes narrowing at Hiro's answer. "I can assure you that I was not wrong. Besides, someone like you is in no position to counter me, anyway."

Silence came from the other end of the call. Izaya mentally noted that most of the conversations he held that day had involved silence.

He turned away from the edge of the rooftop, gripping the phone a bit tighter. "Would you kindly put Tetsuo-san on the phone?"

"Alright."

There was the sound of muffled murmurs, and then an annoyed grunt came from the phone's speaker.

"The hell do you want, Orihara? I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure it's quite harrowing work to prepare the unsolicited selling of one of the corporation's top subjects."

"Drop the smug attitude, or else I'm beating your ass."

Izaya chuckled lightly, unaffected by Tetsuo's sloppy threats. "Someone's ornery today. I just wanted to let you know that you might need to make a change in your plans."

"What do you mean?"

"You see, I've come up with some interesting information today that you might want to hear."

"Okay, spit it out then."

Izaya sighed out his words, as if the conversation itself drained him. "For some reason, Kei wants to get as little people involved as possible in this situation of yours."

"So?"

Izaya pinched the bridge of his nose at how inept his employer could be. "So, she has no one to help her—well, there's Akira, but we both know she isn't going to jump in anytime soon. If you want to ambush her, do it when she's at her most vulnerable. I'm sure no one will come to her rescue."

"What about that Heiwajima guy?"

A sinister smile appeared on Izaya's face. "He's a weakness of hers—nothing for you to worry about."

"Whatever."

The dial tone reached his ears, and a familiar feeling of satisfaction filled Izaya's chest once again. His good karma was sure to run out soon—if he believed in karma, that is.

Now, he had the glass, the nail, and the hammer.

All that was left was the driving force to shatter it.

Ah, so ominous!

I hope that all of the different pieces seem to be coming together, I was a little afraid that it might be confusing.

Hopefully I also did the characters justice, but tell me what you think!

Thank you so much for reading!