Gawh, I got such nice comments. I feel rather inspired for this one so the rest of my stories are going to suffer. But who cares. Now I'll just say one very important thing. . , SO, SO MUCH. Not because of any reason you may or may not think of, but because his age is soooooo hard to logically determine. You don't think so. You think hey, he is 16 like Mikado etc. right? Well I don't think so. You see if he is 16 and Namie is 25 that would make a 9 year difference between them. Right? Right. Well remember that doll scene? I honesty doubt that Namie was like 9 or 10 in that scene, I was thinking like seven, but if she was seven the Seiji would not be born yet! Am I just blind or something! Anywise for the propose of this fan fiction I altered his age, so he is now only five years younger than Namie, which would make him three years older then Izaya. And I don't care what anybody thinks about that because he I there only because it would be weird if Nemie's beloved brother wasn't there. Yeah I rant a lot. Btw, was I the only one surprised to find out that Izaya was two whole years younger than Namie? Yes? Never mind.

Disclaimer: If I owned Durarara the age differences would make sense to me, now wouldn't they?!

It was a rather interesting thing to see. The boy adapted to her very quickly, instantly forgetting all the pain he was put through. He didn't care for that. All he cared for is being near her. It was a sick love. Not a real one, but rather a love implanted in him by her uncle. And by Saika. Her uncle never had the ancient sword in his possession. But he knew the doctor that had. That doctor extracted just a bit of Saika's essence for her uncle. Most of it was used for research. But a small part was implanted in the brain of her new doll. He loved her because he had to. He couldn't imagine not loving her. That love was like air to him. There was no life without it.

She was honestly surprised of how obedient he was. He never once questioned her orders, never once complained about the way he was treated and never once asked about his family. Just like a well-trained dog. His family thought he was dead by now. They probably wouldn't know who he was even if they did see him on the street. But that never happened. And he didn't care. She was his world.

She knew she could make him do anything. She knew he would kill and die for here. It was an exhilarating power. A power over someone's life. He wasn't like the other dolls. He was alive. That worked in his favor, for she did not get bored with him. She loved seeing those loyal eyes, watching her patiently, waiting for her to tell him what to do. She loved the fact that he did everything, absolutely everything to please her. And she loved that she could hurt him. When the other dolls broke or were discarded, there was no change in their expressions. They were not alive, they were always bearing does same porcelain smiles, no matter what she did. It was boring.

But he…

He broke, and he broke easily. She could make him cry; she could make him feel embarrassed or scared. She could do what ever she wanted, knowing that he would always be back. Back for more love, back for more humiliation. The funny thing was that she could get him to beg to her. To beg for her not to leave him. She told him that if he did not behave, she would leave him. She would throw him out on the streets to be killed or raped, whatever came first. She loved seeing tears in his eyes, the way his face would fill with pain, the way he clutched to her as if she was his lifeline. He would take it seriously. Very seriously, and he would try everything in his power to make her satisfied with him again. It was fun to watch relief come to his face after she would tell him that she won't chase him away. At least not that day, week, month.

He never once asked for anything, happy that he still had her. He never asked for the reason of his tortures, as long as she would let him be by her side, it did not matter to him. He was perfectly happy right there. By her side, always by her side. He would even sleep in her room, next to her bed. Her uncle settled a makeshift bed in the closet with cleaning supplies, but he almost never slept there. He made his own little nest of sheets and a little pillow, right beside her bed. He would nest in there and always let out such a serene sigh. Like there was no better place to sleep in. She would sometimes take her arm out of her bed and push it near him. Even if he was in deep sleep, he would always push his head right in it, looking like he was the happiest person alive. She would smile, because it was funny. She would smile and pet his hair, wondering how he could live like that. Surprised how strong of effect love had on him.

It was usually just three of them in her uncle's house. Seiji, Izaya and herself. Her uncle usually had a maid or two around, but they were dismissed soon after Izaya came. That was okay. Neither she nor Seiji liked them anywise. Her uncle said that it was risky having someone else in the house anywise, and now that Izaya was here, there would be no point in keeping the maids. He said that Izaya could do the work himself just fine. She doubted that a bit, but Izaya managed to handle the house chores quite well, especially if considering the age he was in then.

She sometimes wondered how he did it. She would fall asleep with her fingers tangled in his hair, and woke up alone in the room, her hand warmly tucked under the blanket. She did not know how early did he get up, or how would he manage to sneak out of the room without waking her up, every single time without a fail. All she knew that once she got downstairs, she would be greeted with an always cheerful "good morning", always smiling Izaya, and an always warm breakfast for her, her brother and their uncle. Sometimes her uncle would be there, drinking his coffee and talking to Izaya about who knows what, but most of the time his breakfast would already be eaten, his plate washed and their uncle gone to who knows where.

But Izaya would always be there. No matter how many things he had to do that day he would always make time to sit and listen to her. She did not love him, for he was just another toy. But she was still glad he was there.

Her brother was indifferent to Izaya. Only reaction they got out of him was a confused look when their uncle brought the unconscious boy into the house. And even that confused look was soon replaced by loving gaze as he returned to watch the floating head on the desk. Seiji couldn't care less if Izaya was there or not. As long as his meals were cooked, his clothes ironed and his room cleaned, Seiji would act as if Izaya wasn't there. But Seiji rarely ever paid attention to anything. He was in love with that head. Silly, childish love, but one as strong as Izaya's. One as strong as hers. She has grown to realize that each one of them had a rather unusual love. She loved Seiji, Seiji loved the head and Izaya loved her. None of those loves were natural, they were all uncanny, but they lived with them.

Sometimes she noticed that Izaya was way too much preoccupied with work to actually care for himself. She noticed that the first time when he toppled over and to the floor in the middle of his dinner making. Fortunately enough, their uncle was there at the time and assured them that Izaya just fainted from hunger. When he came too they asked him why he didn't eat all day. Strange look came over his face as he frowned trying to concentrate and finally saying that he had forgotten. She remembered how he looked up at her in uncertainty when her uncle frowned at him. She was frowning too. She couldn't understand this. Izaya never once forgot anything. Not a single thing. No matter how much chores did he have for the day he would always remember and do them all. Time, precision and quality, that's how her uncle joked about it. And now, to forget such a common thing as to eat… She was just stunned. Izaya however had other worries, as his always in the track mind, noticed that their dinner is burning and if he doesn't get to it now, they are all going to be hungry. Her uncle let him slip out of his hands since he had a few things to think about and since Seiji chose that moment to lift his head from staring at his beloved head and yell at Izaya that he is hungry.

That night it was quieter than usual around their table. Seiji was in his own world, picking around food that Izaya managed to save, and she and her uncle were thinking. She was young, but she saw the problem. Izaya had to be able to take care of his own basic needs. She didn't care for him personally, but she would hate to lose such a great toy to something as silly as him forgetting to eat. But she had confidence that her uncle would be able to fix him up. And he did.

"Izaya." her uncle called to the raven head that was eating his dinner in the corner.

"Yes, sir?" Izaya looked up, his eyes giving away just hints of the fear that Izaya held for her uncle.

She couldn't blame the boy for being afraid. Lot of bad memories were liked to her uncle, and even though Izaya's mind was suppressing them more and more with each passed month, the instinctive fear of the man still remained.

"Come here. I need to talk to you."

Izaya got up as quickly as he could, she was always surprised how he never broke anything during his hurried movements. He sat his plate on the counter and approached the man, his eyes escaping to the floor. Her uncle took his chin and lifted his head up again, making those crimson eyes meet his.

"Now you are a smart boy, Izaya, am I right?"

"I…um…I …" Izaya trailed awkwardly, not used to being complimented.

"You don't know, huh. Well I'll tell you that you are. A rather quick learner at that too. Good qualities my boy, good ones."

"I ummm…"

"What, you what?" her uncle shook Izaya slightly, like if trying to shake some understandable answer out of him.

Izaya just dropped his gaze again, shaking his head slightly. His eyes were half closed, and he was obviously uncomfortable, not knowing what is going on, or what the man wanted.

"Now a smart boy like you should know why we eat right?" her uncle directed Izaya's gaze up again and watched the boy silently as he thought on how to answer the question.

"So we don't faint, like I did?" he tried.

"Well I guess you can say it that way too. We eat because we need energy. Without energy we faint, like you did. I want you to remember that even though it's very important that you do all you chores, it is also important for you to have enough energy to do so. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir." Izaya nodded, looking embarrassed for being so foolish and forgetting to eat.

"Good, finish your dinner and then you chores. When your done wait for me in my office, I have some other things I want to talk to you about"

"Yes, sir."

"And you are sleeping in your room tonight. Understood?"

Izaya's eyes shot up in panic and his mouth was already half-opened to express his displeasure, but one stern gaze of his uncle's eyes was enough to melt whatever was Izaya about to say in another obedient "yes sir". She saw the sad look he gave her. The look that begged her to prevent her uncle's command. She could. Technically looking, Izaya belonged to her.

But she didn't.

Her uncle only made Izaya sleep in that closet when he wanted to be sure that Izaya would remember the rule he learned. It was for his own good. If he connected the closet with forgetting to eat, he would never forget again. The lesson would be learned and memorized.

That's what her uncle said. However, as tomorrow came, that tactic showed another face showing itself in the form of a very sleep deprived Izaya who barely stood on his own feet. That was the first time she saw her uncle hit Izaya, first time she saw him yell at the boy. Izaya looked like a scolded dog, completely miserable look in his big, watery, tired eyes as he apologized over and over again. Her uncle grabbed fistful of Izaya's hair, lifting him up and slamming him into the wall. She never saw her uncle angry before, he was generally a calm person. But that day he was mad because of something, and Izaya accidentally chose that day to come down too tired to work properly. She knew her uncle wasn't mad at Izaya, not directly. He was just taking his rage on the boy. He left the house warning Izaya that, if the chores aren't finished up until the time he gets home, Izaya is going to get the beating of his life.

She never understood why she went to Izaya after that. Why she hugged the small boy. She never actually cared about his feelings, right? Maybe it was just instinct; she would do that for Seiji. But, no. She never did that for Izaya. Usually Izaya was happy, so there was no need to comfort him. There were a few occasions when she would be woken up by his nightmares, but usually, she would just tell him to shut his mouth or leave the room and that would be enough for the boy to calm down. Why was that time different? Maybe because she saw her uncle turn violent for the first time? Whatever it was, now she sat on the floor, Izaya's head buried deep into her arms, as she hummed his loud sobs down. She was not surprised when he fell asleep in her arms, and she was even less surprised when he woke up with a start two hours later and went to finish his chores on the base of his new-found adrenalin rush. Her uncle didn't comment his outburst at the dinner, Izaya said nothing too, except for the fact that he tried to avoid her uncle for as much he possibly could.

Needles to say that Izaya made sure that he remembered both to eat and sleep regularly, from that day onwards. Sure his eat and sleep schedules did mix and turn dependent on the amount of work he had to do that day, but at least he wouldn't forget it. He wouldn't forget the man's voice yelling at him, or the strong arm grasping his hair and lifting him up to slam him into the wall. No, he wouldn't forget. Izaya always remembered the lessons he's been thought.