Author's Note: I had to split this chapter into two, oops. I got a bit, um, carried away.
The early bird always catches the worm. Izaya was always the sort of man to wake early, never one to waste the daylight hours. Today had been no different, and if anything, he had woken earlier, as soon as the first dusty rays of golden warmth had floated into the loft, drifting over the city, the land of the rising sun. It was funny that he should have such an urge to rise so early each day when really his work meant that he could have stayed in bed all morning if he had wanted to do so. It was funny that today he should awaken even earlier, simply because he was finally going to move his piece into check, in this funny little game of his. It was funny, so funny that Izaya mused he should be laughing. Instead though, he had gotten up, eaten only a couple mouthfuls of breakfast before his stomach protested that it didn't want food today, just as it hadn't wanted food yesterday either. He supposed that had just been a sign the food needed replacing, why else wouldn't he feel like eating? No. It was funny, really it was. Izaya hadn't laughed though. No. No. He had just carried on with his day as if there was nothing different about it, as if there were no plans with another man to meet at the station today, as if there were no stirrings of emotion in his gut, prompting the nausea that meant he couldn't force food down anymore. Just a normal day, that's all it was. And yet—
Izaya had spent longer showering that he did normally, as if he were preparing for a trip to one of those little bars and not out to meet and toy with his little plaything for the afternoon. When he had moved to get dressed, his regular attire had remained folded on the end of the bed where he had left it the night before, in favour of clothes that were much showier, much more appropriate for two supposed lovers setting up a date. Ha, it was funny. So funny. He needed to stop thinking like Nakura and remember that this was a game, that he was meeting this man in order to destroy him. Nakura loved Shinozuka, no, no not Izaya. The informant instead turned to the other clothes that he owned, but in truth, rarely wore. Well, he may as well dress the part of Nakura if he was going all out. The jeans – black and skin tight - that he had worn to the club, that sweaty and seedy place, were brought back out – though after the events of that night, Izaya had made sure Namie washed them several times. The jacket and the tight t-shirt that he normally wore had been replaced with a gypsy styled shirt in slate grey, a necklace, a handful of little twisted fabric wrist bands and one of those little black cardigans on top, he didn't want to get cold now after all; winters in the city could be deathly freezing, just like the cockles of his heart.
All of this had taken a mere hour of Izaya's time, and it was still early, still hours before he would need to leave the loft in order to meet his toy face to face. What did he look like? Izaya was curious. If the other man was hideous to look at then that solved all of Izaya's problems, because then these stirrings in him would go away as soon as he saw that; love was built on looks, after all. Even if the other man was attractive, why that solved matters too, it would mean that Izaya could make the most of it while he was there, get a good lay out of Shinozuka before sending him crumbling to pieces. In fact, that would be even more fun, and even better way to end the game and crown him the victor.
The informant had settled at his desk, switching on his computer in an attempt to get some work that he had let hang around for so long done before he left for the station. Shiki would be happy to wait for the raven to dig up the information, but Izaya's other clients weren't always so generous. It wasn't that he was scared of what they could do, because more than once he had sent thugs back to their masters with numerous cuts and slashes, their tails between their legs. Izaya had one of those signs stamped to his forehead, one that clearly told everyone that he was not to be crossed on pain of death. No. No. it was his reputation that he had to uphold. Izaya had to be the best information broker in the city; he had to have the best Intel, the fastest and the most reliable. It was the only way he could get away with charging such extortionate prices and keep his place at the top of the food-chain. In the world of shadows, it was a dog eat dog world. He knew all that, and yet he couldn't get his head into the figures and the photos and the juicy little details that he had been asked to dig up. It was all there, on the screen, and yet his eyes wouldn't focus, his mind was off somewhere else, contemplating everything but what it was meant to be. Izaya reached for the little black rimmed glasses that he had left on his desk the night before, tossed on top of a stack of papers that he should be taking better care of, hoping that when he slipped them on, they would somehow steady the words on the screen scribbling up and down.
He was wrong, and so he simply continued in the same way, taking two steps forward in his work and one step back. This game was going to be the death of him, unless he took it down first.
Izaya was early. The clock on the station wall told him it would be at least another five or ten minutes before Shinozuka would arrive, and he'd already been waiting for half an hour.
He had tried to work, he really had, but the distraction within his own mind had only gotten worse as the morning had gone on, shifting into early afternoon. It hadn't helped with he had received an email from the man who he would be meeting later, confirming the time and the place. That had just made Izaya's attention span shorter even more, and make this work of his seem dull and commonplace in comparison to his game. Sure, he had managed to dig up all of the information that he had been asked for, save for one of two little details that would have been no trouble normally, but this had taken more time than usual, irritating him to no end. Eventually, he had kicked his chair away and shut the computer down, deciding that he may as well leave now, catch an earlier train or stop for food on the way. Work could come later, once he had made his next move, once he had seen Shinozuka and ended this foolish fascination with him. That was it, right, it was. It was just because he had yet to see what this Shinozuka looked like, had yet to see his reaction, that was all. Izaya decided that maybe playing games was more fun face to face, and that hey, hey, at least he had learnt from this mistake. He wouldn't make it again, no, no he wouldn't.
So he had left early, almost forgetting to grab the red scarf he had tossed over one of the sofas in the loft as he left and caught one of the earlier trains, arriving at Ikebukuro Station with an hour to spare. Izaya hadn't waited around though, he'd headed off to some sushi bar or another and tried to eat, knowing that it would come back to bite him later. He'd still only managed to eat half of the tuna platter that he ordered and even less of the drink that he bought to go with it. It was just as well money wasn't a concern to him with the amount that had cost and the little he had eaten of it. That had killed some time, half an hour of it, and so he had merely sloped back to the station, intent on watching his delicious humans at work as he waited for his to arrive. It was a pastime that Izaya had indulged in for quite some time, but that always amused him, always calmed him down. It was always a great love of his to watch them tick, to watch them go about their lives as if nobody was watching. Always, always, always.
Time seemed to crawl for those last few minutes, until the clock station rang out with the time, announcing that it was two o'clock and that Shinozuka should be here. Izaya turned his attention to the station itself, to the streets around it. He wasn't sure who he was looking for. All he knew of Shinozuka was that he was tall and that didn't really help to narrow things down. The red scarf remained wrapped around his neck, like a beacon, beckoning his prey in toward his own death. Red, dead, red, dead. He was getting irate now, irritated that it was the arranged time and that Shinozuka wasn't here on the dot. Perhaps it was just because he had been waiting so long, perhaps it was something more, Izaya didn't really have time to dwell on the matter, because at that precise moment, a rubbish bin crashed into the wall just beside his head.
"Ah, Shizu-chan," Izaya greeted on turning his head to spot the brute, his voice in a dim monotone, eyes not really focusing on the dumb oaf, still trying to see around him for another figure that could be looking for him. He flicked himself off of the wall that he had been sat on, just outside of the station, leaping down to land on his feet with all the grace of an alley cat. His lips tugged up into a confident smirk of disdain that he wasn't really feeling and waved his hands at Shizuo like one might to a stray cat. "As lovely as it is to see you, I don't have time to play today. Run along and play with someone else for a change, go on, shoo!"
The blonde was being nothing but a nuisance and ruining Izaya's plans. He doubted that Shinozuka would want to hang around once he saw Shizuo Heiwajima stood here, tossing bins and whatnot at innocent little people like himself. Really, what sort of uncivilised oaf does that these days? It was irritating to say the least, that of all the days when Izaya could have done without running into Shizuo, karma seemed to want to fuck with him that little bit and plant Shizuo's route right past Izaya. He made a mental note to kill whatever client Tom had obviously sent Shizuo to beat up for that.
"Really, must you stand there? You're ruining the view, Shizzy. I've already told you that I don't have time to play with you today," Izaya even managed to chuckle, as if he wasn't feeling annoyance at the monster's arrival at all, as if this were merely all part of this magical game of his. He supposed if he told himself that enough it would be true.
Shizuo merely answered with another roar of rage, in something that sounded vaguely like curse words or Izaya's name. Izaya watched as the fool turned, closing his hands around the nearest object he could find in order to fling it back at Izaya. The object turned out to be a metal pole, attached to which was a sign informing people of the way to certain areas of Ikebukuro. Izaya watched as the muscles in Shizuo's back rippled as he tugged it from the cement in the pavement, and the concentration that lined his face as he did so. Izaya watched as he turned, tossing the object in his direction. Izaya watching, dodging out of the way too late and feeling the edge of the sign catch him as his body sprung out of its path; too late and too slow. Izaya could feel the cut that had caught under his shirt as he had moved, and he could feel the ripple of blood creeping down his skin like the tickling touch of a lover's tongue. It had been a while since Shizuo had actually caught him in their little fights, Shizuo must have improved his aim then because hey, hey, Izaya was the best and there was no way his reactions would have slowed over a silly little thing like wondering where Shinozuka was and if he had arrived and left already.
Mentally cursing, Izaya scrabble to reach the flick knife he had shoved into the pocket of his jeans, watching as Shizuo turned to reach for something else, anything else that he could toss at Izaya. When his hands closed around the wooden bench nailed to the street, Izaya decided that it was high time he got out of there before the shallow cut to his torso turned into something worse or before they ruined the station too much. He still needed it of course; trains were faster than walking back to Shinjuku. He – no, no Nakura – would have to apologise to Shinozuka later. He was sure that Shinozuka would understand him not hanging around if he said that Shizuo Heiwajima had shown up and started throwing things around, any sane person would flee when that happened. The man was a monster, and nobody wanted to be around a monster. Shinozuka would understand, because Nakura would make him understand. With that plan in mind, Izaya shot one last little gibe at Shizuo, smiled and chuckled, and turned on his heel to run away from the station, intent on leading the brute on a merry little chase indeed.
And what a chase it turned out to be. The two twisted through streets and parks and across main roads, past hotels and cafes and bars and manga shops and he had even offered a cheery little wave to Kyohei Kadota and his group of miscreants as they had passed. He led the two of them through empty areas and crowded ones, watching as people dived out of the way, screaming Shizuo's name in horror. Served him right, interrupting his day, tossing nasty things at him. They were twisting and running and Izaya could feel the dizzying lack of food taking its toll, eating away at the stores of energy he didn't have. He wasn't sure how long it took to lose Shizuo in the maze of dirty little alleys in the dodgy end of Ikebukuro, but Izaya managed it, and not a moment too soon; the cut on his torso where that fucking signpost was starting to take its toll. It wasn't big, and it wasn't deep, but the figures of his shirt kept catching on it, and it stung to no end. There's only so long one can run with a bleeding cut to their side without keeling over, and Izaya knew that he needed patching up. He couldn't go home, that would take too long and no doubt Shizuo was still prowling around the station on the dim-witted hope that Izaya would return to be 'crushed'. Ha. Ha. What an idiot. What a fucking idiot. Bastard! The monster had ruined everything, had ruined Izaya's chance to make his move and crush these stupid curious feelings for his newest plaything. Shizuo Heiwajima just added another reason to the list in Izaya's mind of why he needed to die. Shinra was out of the question too, because he could already hear the stupid man's quips ringing in his ears. Oh, Shizuo got you this time did he? Man, you must be getting old! Hey, Celty did this thing the other day, and this and that and blah, blah fucking blah. That left only one option, and Izaya was already gritting his teeth just thinking about it. Shiki. He had to go to Shiki. The man was situated only a short distance from where Izaya knew himself to be, and he had dealt with worse injuries than this for Izaya in the past.
The informant cursed, and turned on his heel again to head into his past.