Shizuo must have woken that night. He rose from his bed. He was fully dressed in his bartender outfit. His vision was blurred and red. His feet took him out of his apartment, down the elevator, and through the streets of Ikebukuro.

Shizuo's footsteps reverberated through the halls of the school. He was walking somewhere, but he didn't know where. He was in his old, faded blue school uniform. The old smell of Raijin crept into his nostrils and down to his lungs with each deep breath he took in. The light at the end of the corridor was red and dark. A ringing pierced through his ears, growing louder as he got closer to the end of the hall. The cinder block walls started to close in on him, and he started to run. He came to the end of the hall, which lead into the open stairwell. The walls crushed together behind him, blocking that exit.

He heard a muffled whimper coming from the bottom of the stairwell, below him. He felt his feet begin to take him down the steps. He was screaming for them to stop.

The whimpering grew louder and became crying. Shizuo reached the bottom floor and looked frantically.

A dark form was curled up across the dark red room. Shizuo's feet took him to it once again. The form finally shifted. A pale face dusted with mud and dried tears turned up to meet Shizuo's mortified gaze. There sat the young Izaya, wearing the red Power Rangers shirt and black shorts he wore the day they first met. They looked like they'd been pulled up clumsily over his body. The raven's legs quivered violently. His hands were balled up into tight fists and held against his chest.

Their gazes held. Shizuo felt himself get closer. His legs were moving on their own. Izaya stayed still, watching him come closer with some sort of acceptance of his fate.

Then Shizuo saw himself in front of him in place of Izaya. In his confusion, he looked at himself. His hands were large and his arms were covered in coarse, dark hair. Shizuo knew those hands more than he should. They were his fathers.

And the young Shizuo said, "You've been going backwards. Now look what you are."

Shizuo shot up from his bed, panting heavily. His body wracked with shivers from the cold sweat covering him. He looked around, disoriented, as his vision slowly focused.

He scrambled out of bed and to the bathroom, where he spilled his late-night snack into the toilet. He staggered and leaned against the cold counter top of the sink, panting and staring at his disheveled self in the mirror.

He snapped. He headed back to his room, wiping his mouth, where he glanced at his alarm clock. It was only 2 AM. He put on his outfit anyway and went to the balcony. Even at that time of night, the streets below were still aglow with car headlights. The horns of the angry night-time commuters blared angrily. Shizuo stared at the concrete sidewalk beneath him intently.

You can't. You're a coward.

Shizuo squeezed the railing until it became distorted in his hands. His eyes shut tightly as he sucked in his breath, forcing back tears that had been threatening to spill over.

At that moment in time, Shizuo accepted any sick, never-ending torture that Izaya could bestow on him. Suicide was the easy way out for some one like him, and he knew this. He shrunk away from the edge, sitting on the concrete floor with his face hidden in his arms.

You don't deserve to let it end.

He felt sorrow and anger all at once. Why hadn't Izaya turned him in long ago? Who had the flea told?

Shizuo sat on the couch with a dejected huff and rested his head against the back of it. He stared at the ceiling fan, accepting his fate.

I guess I'll never know.

This is a short chapter, I know. It does go somewhere, though. Updates probably will be a little closer now. Thanks for your kind, thoughtful reviews, everyone. It's starting to get interesting.