"Delivery! From Russian Sushi!" Byoki called as she rapped on the door of an apartment. In all honesty, she was quite nervous about what might be behind it. Not because of any strange noises or weird smells drifting from within but because the door itself was forged from steel. She heard a few locks being undone, allowing a spurt of envy to sidle into her veins. The door at her apartment didn't have a lock anymore for reasons she was unsure of. It happened to feed her paranoia severely, but the therapist she went to wouldn't allow her to buy one, claiming it would help dwindle her fear of people breaking in. Byoki couldn't blame him, though, for he was much older and came from a time where entire towns didn't even know what locks were.

"Well it's about fuckin' time..." the tall, sturdy blonde known as Shizuo grumbled, cracking his knuckles and tugging the takeout from their spot laced between Byoki's thin fingers. They brushed against his coarse hands, which were leathery from being broken and torn so frequently. Her mitts felt silken in contrast to Shizuo's. He thought they were almost beautiful, with their almond shaped nails and unscathed surfaces. Shizuo let his honey colored eyes travel up the woman's arm, hoping to see who the owner of the hands was. He noticed the presence of two bandages wrapped around both wrists in his search and soon saw the face of none other than one of the few people who didn't cower in fear at the sight of him. It was the waitress at Russian Sushi, Byoki.

"Oh, sorry! I spilt an octopus on my head and had to change." she laughed, massaging that back of her head. Byoki let a warm smile grace her lips which had an adverse effect on Shizuo. He felt the oddest sensation boil deep within his entrails. It wasn't anger, per say, but it was certainly some sort of intense emotion. One that made him anxious, almost nervous. Byoki poked her head into the man's apartment to see what the insides looked like. There was a coffee table, covered in empty cigarette cartons and empty glasses, a rather dirty futon, and from what she could see there was a pillow-less mattress near a bathroom. They were the items she could imagine him owning, all except for a rather nice television hanging from one of the walls.

"An octopus?" Shizuo raised an eyebrow. He motioned for Byoki to step into his home while he gathered up the correct amount of money.

"Yeah, I was fixing the tank and I just can't seem to stay on my feet. I was pretty hurt at first but, in retrospect, it was pretty fucking funny!" Byoki prodded her new friend's television. She wished she had enough to afford one, it would be something to enjoy late at night when she panicked over her unprotected door. Anyone could simply stroll inside and attack her at any time. The sheer thought made her nervous and unsettled. What if the man who killed her family got inside? What if he was following her? A sickly tremor wrecked her body.

"Here." Shizuo bluntly held out his bandaged hand to show her a crumpled wad of yen. The other night he'd been rather angry, therefore adopting a different persona, so his quiet and nondescript manners surprised Byoki. She pounced on the money like a starving cat. Byoki didn't care to count it out, simply stuffing the bills in the left pocket of her plaid shorts before going back to peer at Shizuo's hand. The cloth wrap was decorated cheerfully, big spots of scarlet dotting the fibers that covered his knuckles.

"Can I fix your hand?" Byoki asked, far more interested in Shizuo's injury than her own job. Not to mention, she'd like to be as late as she could for her meeting with Izaya. The raven haired male seemed to be pure evil, like he didn't regard himself as a member of the human race. He acted with a sense of being higher than everyone else, as though he were perched on a pedestal. Byoki acted with the thought that she was no better than any other man or woman, however, which meant their personalities would be clashing constantly at the get together. The woman glanced up at her blonde haired acquaintance with hopeful eyes. He looked back, still awestruck by her disregard for his monster-like characteristics. And then he noticed something even more confusing. Byoki didn't look at him with a single fleck of fear, nor with a condescending glare, there was only that same look she gave everyone else. One filled with selfless heart, and joyous spirit. One that had been scarred deeply by a previous event, but that still carried on with generosity and care.

"Fine, if it'll make you happy..." Shizuo's voice trailed off, a slight quiver in his throat. He'd never been looked at with such kind eyes. And their simple, beaming light confused him more than anything else. More than the existence of a mythical fairy living in modern Japan, more than The Slasher, who confused the smartest of men, even more than his own power. But what Shizuo didn't know was that she remained unscathed by mortifying terror because she'd crawled through its darkest recesses. Byoki was herself because she had fought back the Hell within her own head. Something few can do, let alone survive to tell the tale. The darkness that lurked just below each ripple of dandelion yellow showed her true, unyielding pain.

Byoki quickly got to work on Shizuo's knuckles, surprised to see they had already scanned over since last night. She noticed the rosy pink that had sprung itself up on the man's cheeks and smiled to herself. He was, in an odd, unassuming manner, innocent. There was a sort of naive, child-like wonder within him, one that made Byoki somewhat sad. She knew it was because no one had dared come as close as she did. Except for the woman at the milk shop, his experience with her was why Shizuo would try to stay away from Byoki. But something, perhaps the subconscious and perhaps simple fate, had possessed him to order from the one restaurant he knew she worked at. So, as Byoki worked away at redressing his wounds, he attempted to keep his distance from the most kindness he'd received in years.

"All done!" Byoki chimed. She stood from her spot, leaning on the arm of Shizuo's futon, with a springy smile. The soft scent of peppermint and melon tickled his nostrils as the lanky female slunk past him. Byoki made a sharp turn towards the door, checking her watch to see it was nearly time for her meeting. The information broker hoping to speak with her lived in Shinjuku, a district near Ikebukuro. However, riding a bicycle there would take quite a long time. Byoki probably wouldn't make her appointment but, then again, Izaya didn't seem like one to care. She pivoted on her heel to turn back and wave at the still extremely confused male,

"Hopefully I'll see you soon, Shizu-Kun!" Byoki rushed off to reach her bicycle. She didn't actually own it, but her boss had said she could use it when she went out on deliveries. Apparently, delivery was a decently new addition to Russian Sushi and Simon was normally the one to go out and deliver to the citizens of Ikebukuro. But now that responsibility was completely Byoki's, partly because delivery didn't involve pouring tea and not spilling food on tables but also because Simon was a very intimidating man and people didn't much enjoy having their food shoved at them with a strong Russian accent. So the bicycle would probably become Byoki's source of transportation both during work and when she wanted to go somewhere without fretting over trying to find a pair of shoes. She'd stepped on a shattered bottle while bouncing from store to store last night and, though that didn't cause much of a problem, people were beginning to question her shoeless lifestyle.

Byoki went to straddle the bicycle, failing at first due to her minuscule height and then managing to reach her goal. She started peddling with a laid back attitude, still nowhere near excited to meet Izaya. Her surroundings were bland and colorless, aside from the occasional obscene work of graffiti, something she was used to by now. She'd only spent about a week in Ikebukuro now, but even the insides of her apartment building were decorated by tag art and spray paint. All of the grimy parts of town were easily understood by Byoki now even though she'd lived on somewhat of a pedestal in her old life. The thoughts of that time came flooding back, but something stopped her from remembering fully. A sleek black motorcycle had pulled up beside her, it's rider wearing a bright yellow helmet with gorgeous blue decals on the side. Byoki ceased her peddling so sharply she went flying forwards. Her stomach crunched against the handlebars, the momentum sending her heels over head into the pavement.

'Are you alright?' the shadowy woman pushed a PDA into Byoki's face. Byoki jumped from her uncomfortable position on the ground, her eyes growing wide. An eerie smile crept onto her face, so overjoyed it was almost terrifying.

"You're the Black Rider! Holy shit! Oh my god! I saw you the other night I was here! And your motorcycle went 'NEIGH!' and you don't have a head do you? Oh, so that's why you can't talk! You're the Headless Horseman! No, wait! You're the Ghost Rider! If you've got a chain and you use it as a whip I'm gonna have a fit!" the look in her golden eyes went from equality for everyone to complete idolization. She ignored the gash on her arm, entirely focused on the cyclist who'd pulled up beside her.

'You're Kokkaku Byoki, correct?' the allegedly headless woman held the same device out for Byoki to read. She nodded, absolutely ecstatic. Byoki had read hundreds of comics about a motorcyclist who had a skull for a head and vanquished evil doers, so her thrilled spirit was blatant. The American woman did a small dance, clapping her hands together and cheering with joy.

"Yes! Yes! This is absolutely amazing! Fantastical! Shocking! It's wondrous!" Byoki howled with sheer amazement.

'I'm here to take you to your appointment with Izaya. Is that what you're so excited for?' she inquired without speaking. Byoki shook her head with unnecessary speed.

"I'm excited by this city! It's fucking insane! I just dressed the wound of the strongest man in the world and now I get to ride with a mysterious motorcyclist! It's like a comic book! Ikebukuro is its own story, unfolding everyday! In America, everything was so mundane! But here it's all so new, so bright! Everything moves at a million miles per hour, the people are fascinating, and the night is more beautiful than anything I've seen! Life here is... Well, this reality is the best comic I've seen I suppose!" Byoki jumped onto the motorcycle with more enthusiasm than the rider had ever seen. This young woman was the sheer image of excitement and optimism.


My apologies if things seem to be moving a bit fast, I'm just trying to keep Ikebukuro in character( even though it's inanimate X3). Hopefully you people enjoy the Shizu-Kun in this chapter~ I tried to make them a bit cuter and get a little further with Byoki's character. Any suggestions for further chaps? Critiques? Praises? Don't forget to review if you want more faster! Thanks for reading~

~KC