(Izaya and Anri, in this story, are only six years apart. In the manga and anime, they are eight years apart.)
It had started during childhood before her father's abuse. If she were being honest, it had started even before that. She knew that ultimately they were all pawns in Izaya Orihara's game. She had known this for a fact at eight years old when the young man, a student then, had come knocking on their front door helping her stumbling father home. It was he who had introduced her father to drinking more than his usual limit. It was he who whispered little lies into his ears. It was he who started her personal hell.
The day after her parents' death a small bouquet of red roses arrived at her aunt's doorstep. She had answered the door in place of her aunt who had yet to bring herself to leave her bedroom. Izaya Orihara stood on their doorstep holding a bouquet of roses.
He flashed a charming smile. She was sure that it should have made her blush; but she could not feel anything. He extended the roses to her. She tilted her head and took them from his larger hand.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Sonohara-chan," he had chimed, kneeling down on one knee. His face was serious unlike the last time she had seen him. Manners demanded she thank him. So, she did and then slammed the door in his face.
The shock that had been on his face before the door closed on her view still made a small smirk come to her face. She had surprised him. She knew that he had expected the small child that had smiled at him from behind her mother's skirt the first time she had seen him; he had expected her to cling to him like a lifeline. A bitter smile tugged at her lips. It had a slightly frightening effect on her face. If it had been less bitter and more delightful, she would have been beautiful.
Anri closed the mirror to her bathroom and silenced her active thoughts and memories. When in the comfort of her home, she let her real persona surface fully. She was unafraid to feel in the silence of her home. No one was in danger of feeling Saika's "love".
Her house was filled with music that blared from her round speakers that rested onto of her counter in the kitchen. Her apartment was small enough that the sound would carry into her bedroom and bathroom with ease. If the neighbors were bothered by the noise, they never said anything. Anri smiled sadly this time. This apartment building's occupants always looked so defeated. She hated it, but it was the perfect setting. Izaya Orihara, for all of his clever planning, would never suspect her. She made sure of that. He would only know her until she decided to come out in the open.
"Baby steps, baby steps," she sang lightly. Her heart tugged at the memory of her mother singing the same words to her when she was frustrated. Bitterness for Izaya Orihara swelled up inside her again and tugged at the chains that held Saika in place. Easily, she squashed Saika's pleas for release down and wandered to the small kitchenette of her apartment.
At a young age, Anri Sonohara had learned how to clean, to cook, and to shop. She became independent. Then, at twelve-only a year after her father's and mother's death-she found out how to hack and access "classified" information. She was good at it too. By then, hiding had become easy. She had been doing it all of her life. She had started out with little lies.
"Where did those bruises come from, Anri-chan?"
"I fell." My father's fists…
Then the lies she told grew larger. Her ability to lie became better. At first, she was ashamed that it came so naturally. What would her mother think? She couldn't think about that.
"Where did those cuts come from, Anri-chan?"
"I broke a vase." My father cut me with a dull blade.
As she placed the cereal back into the cabinet and stepped over to the refrigerator, those thoughts of what her mother would think of her kept coming. Would she be proud of how far she had come or would she be angry that her daughter had allowed herself to become so tainted? Just like mommy…
"Why were you late for school, Anri-chan?"
"I slept in." I was unconscious.
Just as she set the white bowl into her clean sink, her phone buzzed inside of her skirt pocket. She removed it quickly and allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she read Kida's text. She silenced the I-pod dock with one hand and lifted her bag with another. It was time to meet Kida and Mikado at their usual intersection so that they could walk to school.
At times, she felt bad for deceiving them. She rationalized that guilt by realizing that they didn't really ask her any questions about herself. They were boys and she loved them for it. They were the one thing she could be grateful to Izaya Orihara for.