"Are you sure this… villain. Is trying to leave a message for you?"
"Not exactly a message, Kasuka, but he's definitely one of those real creepy types who manipulates conversation. There's gotta be a clue here."
After pacing for hours and only coming to conclusions he deemed "too obvious" he decided to enlist the help of Kasuka. The two of them had been the best crime-solving and fighting duo in all of Japan in their childhood games of pretend.
Currently they are sitting together at the kitchen table under the warm lights of the room, sharing a some hot chocolate for the cooling fall air.
Kasuka considers Shizuo's notes. "'I am nothing' is a very sad thing to think."
"Of course it is, but that can't be all. It's never that simple."
Kasuka stares at Shizuo for a long moment, then shrugs. "Maybe it is. You've only spoken twice?"
"Yeah, but I've gotta feelin' about him." Shizuo insists, understanding that Kasuka has always been the cool cop to his reckless cop.
When they were kids they took turns on who got to be the good cop and who got to be the bad cop during imaginary interrogations. Kasuka always insisted Shizuo made a better good cop.
"... What sort of feeling?" Kasuka pries, suddenly making Shizuo very uncomfortable with the unspoken potential of the gentle question.
"I don't know! The weird kind. I gotta figure this out!" Shizuo replies defensively.
"Why?"
"Huh?"
"What do you hope to accomplish? You know I'm always on your side, brother, but I do not understand what your end goal is. Do you want to figure out his identity? Do you want to make him leave you alone?"
Shizuo thinks long and hard about what to say, and Kasuka remains patient as ever.
"I don't know." Shizuo sighs, resigning himself to the truth as the best option with his partner.
The two of them consider Shizuo's notes quietly.
"We should organize these on a wall in your room." Kasuka suggests. "You're bound to get more clues and it should help to see them more clearly."
Shizuo immediately perks up, knocking the kitchen chair over in the process. "Yeah, good idea. I'll get some tacks and some string."
Izaya considers himself to be a largely asexual being. He has never felt an interest in any sort of sexual behavior before, and any level of experimentation would require getting far too close for comfort to one of the humans.
Izaya can count the number of times he's touched himself sexually in his sixteen years of life on his fingers.
Not that he has a problem with his own body, he just doesn't feel comfortable doing it. He'd rather deal with any… unfortunate bodily functions by ignoring them.
But he isn't uncomfortable with his body. It's perfectly normal to change in the bathroom for gym instead of the locker room. He's always been a private person.
So when Izaya's pulling his gym shirt over his shoulders in the privacy of the creaky, cramped stall at the end of the row his heart certainly does not leap into his throat at the sound of the door to the bathroom opening. Izaya only feels the edge of panic when he peeks through the space between the stall door and the wall to an eyeful of messy blond hair and broad shoulders.
He freezes like he did in the closet, trying to will his heart into beating again. When it finally does the poor organ is working double-time to compensate for the missed beats.
Izaya knows, logically, that he doesn't need to panic. He's locked safely in a stall and there's no reason for Shizuo to suddenly turn around and kick the door in on some boy he doesn't know.
But Izaya is panicking anyway and damn near has a heart attack when Shizuo mumbles:
"...it stinks." To himself.
Izaya watches Shizuo walks over to the urinals that are perpendicular to the stalls, not even considering how odd it is to be watching him in this moment. He has to move from looking through to space at the door the the crack between the walls to keep an eye on him.
When Shizuo starts undoing his belt, Izaya thinks to himself that what he is doing might be odd.
Izaya tries to shake the shameful blush that begins to creep up his face with reasoning.
It's not weird. Izaya thinks. Scientists observe animals having… m-mating. Self-consciousness continues to spread up to his ears, a feeling he had almost forgotten. This. This isn't weird. And what Shizuo doesn't know won't hurt him. Nothing bad is going to happen. Shizuo unzips his pants and slides his boxers down. You've never turned away from information before. Izaya chastises himself. When are you going to get another opportunity to see this? Shizuo pulls his dick out of his pants.
.
.
.
Izaya decides the world is a horribly unfair place.
Shizuo leaves the bathroom, turning the corner to walk down the hall and up the stairs to his next class. He tries to shake off the weird smell that's clouding his mind. Not the usual stink of piss, stale smoke, and body odor that is typically the boys bathroom. The weird back-of-the-library smell.
Red eyes come to mind again but… Nah. He thinks. It couldn't be… what are the odds he was…
Shizuo turns on his heel and runs back to the bathroom, swinging wide on the turn. When he busts inside the smell is fainter, and every stall is empty.
Shizuo decides to make a note of this on his evidence wall at home.
He can barely focus in his last three classes. Shizuo tries, he really does, but he keeps thinking back to the evidence wall, growing rapidly with the most minute details.
Kasuka's question still haunts him. What does he want out of this investigation?
He wishes he could say he wants to get the boy to leave him alone. To save the school from a small, creepy sphinx that apparently lives in the non-fiction maze.
But Shizuo isn't sure that's what he wants, and getting invested in every detail as he relives the scenes over and over again just make him hungry for more. Itching for another clue to put on the wall and discuss with his brother.
Shizuo runs out of class the second the bell rings, completely missing the homework that the teacher is too scared to call him back and give to him, and makes it to the library in record time.
With a nod to the shrinking girl at the desk Shizuo makes a beeline for the librarian to get his chores for today, jittery for the therapy of mundane, physical labor and the potential to run into the little red-eyed sphinx.
The librarian takes notice of his punctuality and enthusiasm with a satisfied twinkle in her eye. She directs Shizuo to another stack of boxes for the storage closet and hands him the keys without the usual "responsibility and consequences" speech.
Shizuo takes the boxes without so much as a grunt and when he starts the trek to the back of the library the old woman turns to the girl at the desk and asks if she thinks Shizuo might be turning a corner. The girl shrugs, still hunched over and eyeing Shizuo's back with apprehension.
The boxes are unnaturally easy to carry as always. Barely a weight at all with the growing prominence of the bitter smell pressing down on him. The feeling of being watched scratches at the back of his head and by the time he gets to the storage closet his skin is crawling with anticipation.
Shizuo shifts the barely-there weight to one hand and fumbles the key into the lock. It takes a good deal of jingling and careful raking at the lock before the key turns, the lock clicks, and Shizuo takes a steadying breath before pushing the door open.