Sorry this took so long and is so short...
...~-~...
The lock was latched, the curtains were closed, and the lights were off.
A dim, blue glow barely illuminated the room in which a young man sat. Although many know this man as Orihara Izaya, he was practically unrecognizable in the past few hours.
Confident, bright eyes were replaced by eyes which darted around anxiously at every small noise outside his door. A bold yet relaxed posture was replaced by hunched shoulders and timid movements.
It was almost as if a scared child had been placed into the body of the one known as Orihara Izaya.
However this was no imposter.
Izaya had been staring at the screen of his laptop for hours, trying to dig up information and set a plan in motion. Yet all he had managed to do so far was confirm what he already knew to be fact: That a man by the name of Kimura Jiro had been released from prison after completing his seven year sentence.
Who was this man in relation to Orihara Izaya? Only Izaya and Jiro knew the answer to that. Neither had ever spoken a word to anyone about the other. For Jiro, this meant he had no need to worry about others stepping in unless Izaya spoke up. For Izaya, it meant he had no one to turn to for help.
Slamming his laptop shut, Izaya tossed it into his bag along with his other unpacked belongings. He was currently sitting on the bed in a hotel a few miles from his apartment in Shinjuku. After giving the cab driver an address, he also instructed the driver to take a strange route which involved many turns and backtracking before arriving at the hotel. He hoped it would be enough to hide his current location, but he couldn't be sure.
Izaya did not sleep that night. Every sound outside the door had him on edge. His knife never left his grip, even during the few minutes of sleep he managed to get before something startled him awake again.
A few minutes after daybreak, Izaya received an email via one of his new phones. He had left the old one at his apartment to avoid it being traced. Cautiously opening his inbox, Izaya stared at the new message that had appeared above the message from yesterday. The phrase "Do you feel safe, Orihara?" making his heart race once again.
The new message had no subject, but was from the same sender. Izaya hesitated but decided it would be best to keep updated on his situation.
Izaya's eyes widened. He leapt off the bed and gathered the few belongings he had unpacked and threw them back into his bag.
The screen of his phone was still lit up on the bed by the time he had thrown the bag over his shoulder.
The phone was open to an email. The email contained an address and nothing more.
It was the address of the hotel he was currently inside.
At 8:04 am, Nakura checked out of the hotel.
…~-~...
The rest of the week followed a frighteningly similar pattern. Every day Izaya received an email containing nothing more than the address of whichever hotel he was staying at. Every day Izaya jumped to another hotel in a seemingly random pattern. He was currently in Yokohama.
It was the 8th morning when Izaya's phone vibrated with an email. By now he was prepared to see the address of the hotel despite the small part of him that hoped he wouldn't be found this time. However something was different. Written underneath the address was a number.
219.
His room number.
This was getting ridiculous. He knew he had to act soon yet the lack of sleep was preventing his thoughts from remaining coherent for more than a few minutes. He'd have to make a slightly more drastic move this time. And he'd have to take extra care to cover his tracks.
Five hours later, after sneaking out of his hotel room, switching between trains and cabs, Izaya arrived in Kyoto. He chose a cheaper, less conspicuous hotel in the area in hopes that somehow he wouldn't be found there.
…~One Week Later~...
There had been nothing so far. No strange emails or phone calls, and no sign that he had been followed. The first night had been almost entirely sleepless and was spent staring at his phone as if daring it to vibrate with an email notification. However the only emails he had gotten were spam and a few potential clients which he promptly ignored.
Izaya lay spread eagle on the bed, his hair still damp from his shower. The past few nights he had been able to get just enough sleep to feel confident in his ability to think up a plan.
He could frame him for a crime. But he would probably be able to find an alibi… Also that plan depended solely on a major crime to be committed and left unsolved. He could set him up to commit a real crime, but he was too smart to fall for a trap like that…
He could hire a hit man…
But Jiro could probably talk or pay the hit man onto his side…
He could call the police and tell the truth… but there was no direct evidence to prove Izaya's claim. Even if he told the truth, it had been years since the original incident and any possible DNA evidence was long gone.
As he stared at the ceiling, Izaya realized just how unprepared he was for this to happen. He had gotten distracted by everything happening in Ikebukuro that he had forgotten to find a permanent solution to his… problem.
One thing was for sure. He couldn't run like this forever. He was running low on his savings after staying in hotels for the past few months since his fight with Shizuo, and he was finding it very difficult to get any work done under these conditions.
There was no denying it. He would have to return home soon. He would need to upgrade his security system and maybe hire a bodyguard.
Izaya sighed. Until he found a sufficient solution, it seemed that a body guard was his best option. He'd have to do extensive research on anyone he hired to make sure they aren't secretly working with Jiro… It would have to be someone he could trust.
A small laugh escaped him despite everything. Someone he could trust. There wasn't a single person he could think of who he could trust with a job like this.
But he'd just have to figure something out.
Sparing a glance towards the door, Izaya checked that the lock was still latched. He then allowed his eyes to slip closed. A temporary plan would have to suffice for now, he decided.
Ten minutes later Izaya slipped into a dreamless sleep.