I have so many fics going at once right now, I don't even know what to write first. Thank you for reading, though, and I hope to keep my updates as frequent as possible. :)

The path that Tsugaru followed through Ikebukuro reminded him with almost brutal clarity of days gone by. It was crowded – probably Sunday or something, the blonde theorized – and everywhere he looked were familiar storefronts and vending machines that still showed signs of having been replaced numerous times. It wasn't as if nothing had changed – things always changed in big cities like this – but a single year could never have hoped to erode the skeleton, the canvas upon which this vibrant place painted itself every day.

Tsugaru – his clothes, his hair, his face – might've stood out the night before. Now, though, he was one of a multitude of people, all bright colors and noise. He could blend in like this, and he did just that – kept a low profile and his head down, save for the occasional searching glance at his surroundings.

He fully expected to be found at some point, by someone. Until then, though, he had to apply himself to this resolve. He figured that a little shyness was allowable, of course, but he'd decided already that he wouldn't hesitate to talk to the first person who should know him – Tom, maybe, or Simon. Someone who was usually calm, he hoped. Someone who might not freak out.

But, hey – Heiwajima Shizuo had never been the lucky type. That, of course, hadn't changed, and tranquility was not what he found in his first reunion.

"Oh my God! Ne, ne, Yumachi~, doesn't he look a lot like Shizu-chan?"

Shizu-chan. Izaya, Tsugaru immediately found himself assuming, and he whirled around to face behind him, his eyes wide and expectant. "Iza – "

He blinked, cut his cry short and swallowed the wave of raw emotion that had burst forth at that slight provocation. It'd been a woman's voice. Yeah, it must have been. But who else had ever called him that..?

"Ah! You're right, he does! This is incredible! Almost like a certain feudal priestess, ne?"

A man, but not Izaya. Was that 'Yumachi?' Priestess?

Tsugaru shifted his gaze a little and caught sight, then, of two rather suspicious-looking individuals standing not far from him. Large backpacks, probably about his age, give or take…

Ah, right. They were always with Kadota. Their names… "Karisawa… san?"

The two exchanged a quick glance, then, and rushed forward with their eyes practically twinkling with excitement. "Are you really Shizu-chan?!" Karisawa demanded, and Tsugaru was caught very much off-guard by the extra edge that glinted in her eyes. "I thought you'd died," she added, curious; the bluntness stunned the blonde further, and he had to take an uneasy step back.

"Ah… yeah… actually, just call me Tsugaru." He wasn't denying anything – just making an odd request, which Erika promptly ignored.

She stifled a high-pitched squeal, her cheeks flushing as she reveled in some strange new burst of emotion. The boy beside her stiffened, brought his palm up to his face and looked like he was himself torn between excitement and exhaustion. "Then, then, does that mean you came back to life to help Izayan? A miracle of love, breaching the boundary of death~?!"

The blonde blinked and cleared his throat awkwardly. Miracle of love? "Are you sure?"

The man – Yumachin? – spoke first, this time, and indicated with his response that he had understood the meaning behind Tsugaru's ambiguous question. "Of course, of course. Any true otaku should be able to accept something at least as simple as this!"

"Right," Karisawa agreed, "anyone who can build an entire reality on anime and games can accept a little resurrection here and there!"

Shizuo wasn't following this at all, but he chose nevertheless to indicate his comprehension with a nod. And then he realized something – "You said I should help Izaya, didn't you? What did you mean?"

Karisawa's eyes widened further. She looked positively stricken, now. "You mean you haven't met him yet? How long has it been?"

Unbeknownst to Tsugaru, of course, was the probable fact that the fujoshi was worrying about the eventual fate of her 'real-life boys' love.' Heck, Walker's expression could have served as proof of that, but Tsugaru didn't bother trying to read that far into Erika's strange mannerisms.

He was, after all, just a little too preoccupied by the incredible ease with which these two had accepted the current state of affairs. Bewildered, too, by the mention of Izaya's name and by the general barrage of excited chatter. He shook his head – an answer to Erika's question as well as a weak attempt at reordering his thoughts. "A little less than a day…"

Karisawa perked up a little at that. "Does that mean Yumachi and I are the first to meet you?"

"Well, third and fourth," Tsugaru admitted. "And? Is Izaya okay?"

"He's so worried about Izayan," the girl giggled, mostly to herself. It didn't sound mocking, but rather… elated, maybe? Tsugaru, like many before him and many still to come, found that the best response was to simply ignore it.

More loudly, Erika added, "Izayan is mostly okay, I think, but Dotachin says he's just a little different." She leaned closer to Tsugaru and added, "I think he misses you – which is why you should go see him as soon as possible! If you're lucky, he'll be desperate for some – "

The light-haired man, Yumachin – Walker, Tsugaru now remembered – clamped a hand over his excited companion's mouth before she could say anything more. His expression was apologetic as he explained, "She gets like this. It's better if you don't worry too much about it."

Tsugaru nodded abstractedly. He was less concerned, after all, by this strange pair's antics and more concerned – increasingly so – by the news about Izaya. 'Fine' the informant apparently was not; Kadota had known Izaya for at least as long as Shizuo had. If he felt that something was really off about the guy, then there was likely some truth to that.

That 'one person' that Shinra had mentioned… Tsugaru didn't want to hope, but it seemed so possible, so… desirable, he guessed. Of course, what he'd given voice to back then in that hospital room had been his true feelings. 'Forget,' he'd said, and 'don't cry' – all of it a wish for Izaya to live happy. To free himself from the burden that a forever-absent Shizuo surely would have become.

But now was different. An impossibility had occurred, a ripple in reality that had created an odd quandary for both of them. Izaya… to forget would be to take hold of that freedom, the thing Shizuo had so fervently wished for him. To be happy, twisted and just the same as he always had been. But he would have to remember – would have to still be grieving, even now – if Tsugaru were to have a place in his heart. At his side. In his life.

He wanted that place, maybe more than he wanted this – these crazy fools who spoke of 'anime' and 'boys' love,' this city and everything about it that felt like it belonged to Tsugaru. His old friends, his brother, his job and his comfortable habits.

He wanted Izaya more than all of that. "Sorry, I… have to go…" So much more that he could almost believe in Izaya as his real reason for coming back in the first place.

Walker caught Tsugaru by the shoulder as he turned to leave; his feet had started moving almost of their own accord. "Wait. There may be no point in asking, but are you okay with us spreading this information around a little bit?"

Information? About Heiwajima Shizuo's return to life? Another urban legend?

Would it scare people, create some huge uproar or compromise his ability to live in this city?

But this was the second time he'd felt human contact since the evening before. No trace of fear or doubt, here, and no panic anywhere. He was close friends with another urban legend, regularly threw vending machines at a certain other infamous party – hell, he had always been well-known, a legend of sorts, himself. People had always talked about him online, and he'd never cared.

So why care now? Hell, he should have been spreading those rumors himself, should have been hoping that they'd help him meet up with people, that they'd help prepare them to meet him face-to-face.

"Do whatever you want."

And he was off, feet pounding pavement and slipping just a little on slick snow and ice. Dodging passersby, breath cutting at his lungs, muscles pulling and Tsugaru not caring because somewhere, somewhere in this roaring, freezing city was someone – a connection, a relationship – unfathomably important and of absolute necessity to Shizuo's new start at life.

If Izaya was hurting, then Tsugaru would take that away. If he wasn't, then, dammit, he'd work as hard as he had to in order to carve a new niche for himself.

Not a copy, not an imitation of the long-past, but something new and warm and bright. Extraordinary, the way only Ikebukuro could do it.