Chapter 2 takes place several years after Chapter 1, so there will be some things that seem to contradict the things in Chapter 1. However, everything will be made clear in due time, so please be patient.

I also kind of want to turn this into a manga on deviantart, but I don't know how to draw manga using GIMP or Paint. If any of you know, I would be grateful for the advice! ^_^

Thanks to those who followed/favorited/reviewed this story!

~FR242

[Acquaintance]

Chapter 2: The Informant

"Well, Fujimoto-san, what can I do for you today?"

The aging man who sat rigidly on the black couch took another sip of hot tea and placed the cup on the table with shaky hands. He ran his fingers through his sleek hair and turned to the smirking informant who sat behind a desk.

"Orihara-san, my son ran away from home about two days ago and hasn't made any contact with me or my wife. We are terribly worried, and you were recommended as the person who could offer the most help to us. Please, find our son." Fujimoto looked at the other hopefully.

Orihara Izaya hummed in acknowledgement and turned to his computers. "What's your son's name?"

"Fujimoto Akira. Thank you so much, Orihara-san."

Izaya's smirk widened by a fraction as his fingers flew across the keyboards. Don't thank me yet, old man. He opened and closed tabs, logged on and off to several sites, and entered many search words. In a record-breaking minute and ten seconds, the informant had found what he was looking for.

"Well, Fujimoto-san, it looks like your son at this hotel in Ikebukuro." Izaya ripped a post-it note from a notepad, grabbed a pen, and scribbled down the address. "You can find him here."

Fujimoto took the note gratefully. "Thank you so much!" He handed over a wad of bills. "Here's the payment." Still thanking Izaya earnestly, the man bowed a couple of times and hurried out of Izaya's office, no doubt going to pick up his wife and go find his son.

Once the door to the room was shut, Izaya let out the puff of laughter that he had been holding in. Skipping to the door, Izaya grabbed his fur coat and slipped it on. He took his switchblade out of his pocket and slipped it up his sleeve. If he was going to Ikebukuro, he would most likely need the weapon.

He skipped out of his office building and headed towards the address he had given to Fujimoto. He wasn't going just to watch Fujimoto; he had some other business in Ikebukuro today, too.

Izaya had researched the car that Fujimoto owned a couple days ago, and he recognized it when he arrived at the hotel where Fujimoto Akira was staying. Elated that his quarry had got here before him, Izaya hid himself in a shadowy alley and waited for Fujimoto and his wife to leave the building. He didn't have to wait long; Fujimoto and his wife appeared at the front door about three minutes later.

As Fujimoto and his wife approached, Izaya stepped out from his hiding place, showing himself to the dejected couple in front of him. The pair stopped dead in front of the hotel, shocked by the sudden appearance of the informant.

"You know, Fujimoto-san." Izaya casually strolled up to the surprised man. "If your son ran away and hasn't contacted you since, it probably means that he doesn't wish to talk to you."

"You!" Fujimoto jabbed a trembling finger at Izaya. "What are you doing here? Did you follow me?"

"Why, I just came for a stroll and happened to pass by." Izaya smirked and twirled around the man. "I didn't follow you because you went home to pick up your lovely wife first, didn't you? I came straight here."

"Keep your nose out of our affairs, outsider!" Fujimoto's wife clung to his arm, glaring at Izaya the entire time. "We paid you to track down Akira, not to come here and meddle with things that are none of your concern!"

Izaya put on a falsely wounded look and wrapped his arms around himself. "Oh, my. Is that how you pressured your son into running away from home?"

Fujimoto's wife let out a choked cry of outrage while Fujimoto himself looked as though someone had slapped him in the face. Izaya felt a wave of satisfaction as his inference had been proved correct, but then again, he rarely guessed wrong.

"What makes you say that?" Fujimoto sounded strangled as he rested a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Well, when I was tracking down your son, I happened to come across his records from school. I must say that he's quite a responsible kid, seeing as he was close to the top of his class while participating in several clubs and school activities. There's been no sign of the teachers needing to use disciplinary actions against him, either." Izaya tucked his hands into his coat pockets and stared at Fujimoto through half-lidded eyes. "Unless Akira-kun has good reason to, he wouldn't just take off and sever all contact with you."

Suddenly, Fujimoto's wife ran forward and swung her hand at Izaya's face. The informant nimbly dodged the assault and leapt to one side. The woman stumbled on her high heels, and Fujimoto quickly moved to catch his wife before she fell.

"Bastard!" Fujimoto's wife glared at Izaya as the informant danced away.

Fujimoto was still rather calm. "Orihara-san, why are you doing this to us? What have we ever done to you?"

Izaya laughed humorlessly. "I just love humans, Fujimoto-san." He started backing away from the couple. "You should probably stop pressuring your son for a bit. Let him do what he wants. Then, he might be more inclined to go back to you." With that, the informant whipped around and disappeared into the crowd.

Enough with the Fujimoto family. Time to get down to the real business.

Taking a familiar path to the emptier part of Ikebukuro, Izaya strolled down the road with his hands tucked into the pockets of his fur-lined jacket. Humming, he quickly reviewed the information he had gathered for a very important and very old client of his.

Finally, Izaya arrived at a quiet and practically deserted road with the exception of a black car with tinted windows parked on the side of the street. Glancing around indifferently, Izaya made his way to the vehicle, grabbed the door handle to the backseat, and pulled the door open. Swiftly and smoothly, he got in and shut the door behind him.

"As punctual as always, Orihara-kun." The other person in the backseat took out a lighter and lit a cigarette. The smell of tobacco smoke filled the car as the man took a drag and breathed out.

Izaya gave a wry smile. "I figured you be impatient for the information, Shiki-san."

Shiki let out a huff of air. "The information is very valuable." He offered a cigarette to Izaya, who refused with a grin and a wave of his hand. "Speaking of the information, Orihara-kun, are you sure it's safe for you to be frolicking around Ikebukuro so openly?"

Izaya sighed. "I've been thinking that it's time I made some kind of retaliation to their threats, but I need to draw them out first. Or perhaps they've forgotten about me. It's been a few years."

"You and I both know that them forgetting about you is just wishful thinking." Shiki took another puff from his cigarette, and Izaya had to resist the urge to roll down a window to dissipate the smell of smoke. "They aren't the type to give up. As an expert informant, you pose a serious threat to them, and they would do anything to get their hands on your blood. Even if it means threatening those you care about."

"I know that." The words came out as a low hiss, and the men fell silent for a brief moment. After a long moment, Shiki sighed and threw out his cigarette.

"What information did you manage to glean this time, Orihara-kun?"

The smirk instantly returned to Izaya's face. "Information that you'll find useful. You'll be getting rid of a few enemies tonight."

"Oh?" Shiki raised a thin eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Eleven thirty tonight." Izaya looked in the rearview mirror, watching his scarlet eyes narrow. "Two members of the Sparrows will be meeting at Ikebukuro's oldest bridge to discuss scouting routes. They won't be talking for very long, so don't waste any time waffling around or you'll lose your chance to catch them."

Shiki nodded. "Got it. Anything else?"

Izaya's smirk stretched wider. "Have fun."

Shiki snorted and gestured for the man in the passenger seat. Obediently, the thug reached down and picked up a black leather bag. He handed it to Shiki, who took it and opened it up to show the wads of money stuffed inside. The yakuza boss took out a few wads, which was easily a couple thousand dollars, and handed it to Izaya.

"Oh, wow, Shiki-san!" Izaya's eyes widened in surprise. "This is a large payment for such a small amount of information."

"It took years to get that small amount of information, and the information happens to be the best news I've heard in a while." Shiki passed the bag back to his subordinate. "You've been a big help this time around, Orihara-kun."

"Aren't I always a big help?" Izaya joked as he accepted the money and put it into his pocket. He gripped the door handle, ready to take his leave. "Feel free to contact me when you need information again."

"Will do." Shiki nodded and pulled out another, lighting it and inhaling the smoke. "Take care, Orihara-kun, especially now that you've shown your face in Ikebukuro again."

"Your concern is appreciated." Izaya pushed the door open and stepped out. He was about to close the door when Shiki spoke again.

"Does he still hate you?"

Izaya's demeanor slipped for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered and put another smile on his face.

"It's better this way."

The informant slammed the door and stalked away, barely noticing as the car rumbled to life and sped away. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and started walking back to his office in Shinjuku, not particularly caring that he could be seen by his enemies. He wanted to draw them out anyway. It was very difficult to extract information on them unless they made some moves that allowed Izaya to predict their movements. To Izaya's chagrin, this was one game where he would have to give up the first move, and extra caution would be wise. Right now, he could only hope that Shiki and his gang would be able to capture the two Sparrows.

Suddenly, a very familiar voice jolted Izaya out of his musing.

"I–za–ya–kun!"

A garbage can came flying at the informant from the right and slammed into Izaya, knocking the man clean off his feet. With a pained grunt, Izaya landed on the asphalt and lay still, momentarily winded. His left shoulder throbbed from hitting the ground, and his left hand stung as well from where it scraped against the road.

Ignoring the pain, Izaya scrambled to his feet and slid his switchblade out from his sleeve, gripping it tightly in his hand as he turned to face his assailant.

Ana (Guest): Thank you.

PiTOF (Guest): Really? What's the doujinshi called? I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS!