"I had been looking into them for about a week before Hiro disappeared," said Tamayo, her eyes glancing downward at the tiled floor. The tone of her voice, while still serious, had taken on a sort of weariness. Her breathing had slowed. Every time she blinked, she kept her eyes closed for a longer period of time. Izaya wondered how much longer they had before Celty would kick them out.

"He told me about them, briefly, when we would talk on the phone, but he didn't seem to think they were much of a threat. Even so," she sighed, "I begged him to come home. He and Hideki started living together in some seedy apartment shortly after he joined the Awakusu, and I thought he'd be safer if he moved out, but he refused."

"Do you know if he spoke to anyone else about this?" Izaya asked.

Tamayo shook her head. "I don't know the specifics, but Hiro was just a grunt, and he didn't want to bother his boss with a group that he didn't take seriously. He didn't tell me much either, just their name and the fact that he was having trouble figuring out who they were and what they wanted. In fact," she inhaled deeply, bringing her arm up to rest against her forehead, "the lack of information available about them was the thing that made him think they weren't a threat. If no one had ever heard of them, then they couldn't be very important, right?"

Izaya's thumb slid effortlessly across the phone, typing out every single word Tamayo was saying. As someone who lived and breathed information, he couldn't help but notice that Hiro's thought process was rather logical. How had this organization managed to remain such an enigma?

"He was a fool. He's always been a fool. That's why I had decided to look into the White Gloves for him, but," she paused, biting her lip, "I didn't find anything important, and it turns out that I'm just as foolish as he was." She gestured, weakly, to her surroundings, letting out a short chuckle.

"Do you remember anything about the people who attacked you?" Shizuo asked. Izaya couldn't suppress the surprised look that appeared on his face. He hadn't been expecting him to speak.

Typical monster, he thought, only interested in the physical details.

"Not really, sorry. I had gone out one night, hoping to gather some information, and the next thing I knew, I woke up here."

"Where were you going that night?"

Tamayo shook her head again. "I'm sorry, I don't remember that either. I guess I might have been on to something, considering what happened to me."

Izaya nodded slowly. Although this conversation had been helpful, especially when it came to details, he felt as though he was missing the big picture. It had been awhile since he had felt so frustrated, yet also excited about a case. The inner workings of Ikebukuro color gangs had always been relatively easy to figure out. Until now. What did this gang want? Why were they keeping everything a secret? Why attack a couple of Awakusu grunts if they were trying to remain anonymous?

Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, an idea ripped through his mind.

"Do you happen to know anything about BH?"

"BH," Tamayo said softly, her eyes were closed now, "what's that?"

Izaya frowned, feeling slightly disappointed. He had been hoping that she would know something about the connection between the White Gloves and BH. There were several pieces of this puzzle that were refusing to fall into place. Still, he couldn't complain. Tamayo had given him some solid leads. He knew that once he was back in his apartment and had time to think, he'd be able to formulate a plan.

He pressed the send button on the email.

Celty stood and walked over to him, shoving her phone in his face:

Time's up. She's asleep.

She then forced them out of the room, closing the door gingerly behind her. Just as she began typing out another message, Izaya's words stopped her.

"You need to look after her. If they find out she's alive, I'm sure they won't hesitate to kill her."

In his peripheral vision, he could see Shizuo glaring at him. He seemed tense.

Celty nodded. After typing out a curt sentence on her phone, promising to protect her, she then guided them toward the exit. Once the two had stepped outside, she shut the back door behind them. Izaya could hear several locks being done up a mere second later.

Shizuo coughed. It didn't take long for an awkward silence to befall them.

"Can I have my phone back now?" Shizuo asked. Izaya, somewhat shocked by his politeness, handed it to him, and began walking in the direction of Ikebukuro Station.

"Hey," Shizuo called after him, "I'm walking you home."

Izaya let out a hearty laugh, and spun on his heel to face him. The serious expression that greeted him caused a wave of confusion to sweep through his mind. He found himself at a loss for words. The frigid night air bit at his skin, and his shoulder throbbed, but he hardly registered any of that. However, he found himself yearning for his coat. He felt strangely vulnerable.

"Why?"

"We've both been attacked. If they see us, they might attack us again, and we might be able to find out more about them. And besides," he paused, "you won't be able to defend yourself."

"Why do you care about any of that, Shizu-chan? Wouldn't they be doing you a favor by killing me off?"

"I care because I'm angry," he balled his hands up into fists, "I want to find whoever is responsible for hurting that innocent girl, and figure out who dared to hur—"

Izaya watched as a blush grew on Shizuo's cheeks. He couldn't be certain if it was due to the cold or something else. Snow was now falling, slowly and silently around them. Despite the strangeness of this situation, Izaya felt a calmness overtake him. It didn't seem right to be so relaxed at that moment; after all, he was alone with his worst enemy. However, there was no adrenaline pumping through his veins. Normally, he'd be whipping out his knife, ready to defend himself. Not this time.

The snow began falling more quickly, and an involuntary shiver tore through his body. Somewhere in the distance, a police siren blared. Other than that, the world remained quiet. Suddenly, Izaya felt his calmness melt into exhaustion. He turned back around, his shoes making footprints in the thin layer of snow.

"Fine. Let's go."