#vaniwrites

It had been approximately a week since Shizuo had received the message. He'd swore he had heard the same voice, after he woke up in the middle of the night. The message still sat, unopened and continued to haunt him. He did not reply, he wouldn't. The screen lit up again, to his immense surprise. The sender was still unidentifiable, but there seemed to be a file attached. An MP4…? He unlocked the phone, his hands trembling.

The video played itself automatically. It was a grainy, loop of kaleidoscoping colors that displayed pixels of moving objects. The first person he had recognized right away was Izaya. However, he was in pristine condition, unlike the last time he had seen him. The outline of his jacket was present, the familiar snide, arrogant smirk on his face. He seemed to be looking directly toward the camera, a chessboard in front of him. His lips moved, but Shizuo could not catch what he had said, before the chessboard began to catch fire. Smoke filled the screen and the video stopped playing. It was dated: Feb. 10th. A series of messages popped up:

ー「 I see you've watched it. 」

ー「 Are you happy? I can tell. 」

He typed back furiously,

ー「 What do you want? 」

Another came up:

ー 「 The truth. 」

ー「 Also, you should get in the habit of charging your phone.

It's quite irksome. 」

ー 「 See you soon. (=^ェ^=) 」

At that moment, his phone died. It had been on 1%.

He thought, clenching the phone in his grasp. A small crack formed near its side and he stopped.

There was no denying it had to be Izaya. The video, the messages...the all-knowing taunting in his tone. And what was with that “see you soon”, anyways? Could it mean he was already in Ikebukuro? Or perhaps, he was even closer than that. Shizuo bolted up, unlocking his doors, peering into rooms, and opened windows. He shuddered as the cold air bit him, it was clear he was rattled by the whole thing. After all, Izaya had not ever confronted him this way. He was always did business in the front, with the knife already planted in your back. So you'd know it was him.

Why go through the trouble of revealing himself? Too many questions, maybe he should start drinking, after all.

A phone started ringing, and Shizuo nearly leapt of his own skin. It could not have been his, it was dead! It appeared to be coming from the room next door, but the family had moved weeks ago. More phones rang throughout the building, lights turned on, and brief complaining was present. There was the sound of a cat meowing in the alleyway below.

“Just what exactly are you planning, Izaya?” A trembling laugh escaped him.

Shinra was currently occupied with crunching crackers, which had spilled from his lab coat onto the sofa. He put three more into his mouth, glancing over at a red-eyed Shizuo.

“Wow, you look like trash. Rough night, too?” He said in between a bite.

He grunted, folding over his arms again. Apparently, the entire block had received the mysterious phone calls, but of course Shinra slept just fine.

“Yeah, good thing I forgot to charge mine! I heard when people tried to pick up, the number blocked itself and hung up. What a spoof!” He rolled his eyes, continuing to stuff himself.

Shizuo wished he'd stop eating those god-awful things.

“What am I supposed to do if it's Izaya?”

“Ignore it?” He suggested, with a quizzical look.

Right, which was the practical equivalence of  ‘just throw your phone away’. His gaze instead returned to that of the annoying cracker crumbs that dropped onto the floor.He should have known, considering the oddity that existed that of Shinra. He deemed Izaya as nothing more than a ‘really shady guy’ and never cared much to get himself involved with him in the first place.

“Why does he even bother, sometimes?” He huffed in annoyance.

Shinra shrugged, “Probably just wants to live out the ‘ol glory days.” He picked up a cracker that had fallen onto the floor, and proceeded to eat it. Gross. Apparently even doctors were not exempt from the ‘5 second rule’.

Shizuo continued to wake up from a series of nightmares, in which he dreamed of Izaya dying, or worse, him causing it. Cold sweat jolted down his spine, primal instincts taking over as he peered into the dark. He saw nothing of course, yet could not erase those messages from his mind. It had been days since he was able to sleep comfortably, either resting or not at all.

ー「 Are you happy? I can tell. 」

No, he wouldn’t let him get the better of him. This thought was present until he stood up to go to his humble kitchenette. He turned on the sink, letting it rinse over his face, onto his clothes even. There was a creak, it appeared to be the sound of a door. Shizuo froze, his hand briskly turning off the sink. He let the rhythmic pulse of water drip into the sink, listening intently for the sound again, yet he had not heard it. He crept across his living room, to peer into the hallway leading to his front door. Nothing appeared to be out of place, but to be sure he approached the door anyway. His hand steadied on the cold brass of the knob, as he looked out in the apartment hall. Pure, blissful darkness. He closed it with a heaving sigh before he was greeted with the sound of a creaking door yet again. Shizuo nearly sprinted, seeing his bedroom door had been left slightly ajar. His breathing hitched as he came closer, pushing it open. Nothing, until a hand closed over his mouth from behind, something being tied around his face. His arms flung lifelessly, as they were also bound in a panic. He wheezed as he had begun to lose consciousness. A distant ring of laughter was heard as he fell.

He fell into pure, blissful darkness.

A low set of chattering began in the ear of Shizuo, as he slowly came to. His vision was altogether fuzzy, colors dipping in and out of focus. His eyes rested on a pair of dusty, brown shoes that tapped rhythmically on dark carpeting. He found that his own hands were bound quite tightly, something even he abnormal strength could not tear apart. What was it? Steel? In any case, he had a massive headache. Dialogue was difficult to pick up, his glazed view struggling to stay put on the other beings in motion. However, his gaze was torn by the eerie tap of the shoes again. The sound was cut off by brisk clapping, that made him wince slightly in pain.

“C’mon guys, give him a hand. It was certainly difficult getting him here, was it not?”

The tone was off, taunting even. Its familiarity made Shizuo’s heart race suddenly, and he wasn’t sure why. The commanding of the voice was so conquering, that the others slowly clapped in mere agreement, as if it were a snake that would bite.  

The face nodded, offering up a smile. “Good, good. That wasn’t too hard at all.”

Everything sounded sinister and out of place. The shoes bent to stand up, blocking Shizuo’s line of sight. A squared visage met eyes with him, and Shizuo could have nearly passed out again. Bent on a single, wobbly crutch was none other than him. It was slowly recovering from massive wounds, but that crooked grin underneath was far too recognizable. Glancing behind him, he could see the outline of what appeared to be a wheelchair. It seemed he was not able to walk much at all (since Shizuo had broken his legs and arms). The face of him tilted, the grin growing wider with it. It was crazed, unhinged like the droopy arm that threatened to slip out of its cast.

“You’re happy to see me, aren’t you Shizu-chan?” The nickname stung, along with the demanding inquiry.

He shook his head, before Izaya bent to his level. “After all, I went through all the trouble to see you again so soon.”

Shizuo squirmed along with a feeble, “How did you do it, Izaya?” He spat his name with venom.

“It was easy!” His voice rang strong and melodic, “About as easy as scaring away an alley cat. Enjoy those calls? The pictures I left you? Ah, you have to hand it to these guys.” He jerked a thumb at his crowd of thugs.

“You know already, I hate to get involved with these kind of things.” He feigned a sympathetic look.   

Yet, he was the one who was accountable for it all. The paranoia Shizuo had endured since his disappearance. Of course, he made sure he knew of his revival. The conniving, smug son of a-

“What for, Izaya? Were you afraid Ikebukuro would forget you already?”

As soon as he uttered those very words, Izaya’s smile quickly vanished. It was replaced by a stormy, brewing fury he only seen a handful of times. It was only momentary, before his pseudo-lack of interest returned.

He spoke unusually calm, “I was going to wait to tell you, but it seems it’s hard to train a rabid dog.”

Shizuo grit his teeth, beginning to lean forward. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, Izaya pulled a cellphone out of his pocket with a free hand. He pulled something up, shoving it into his face. Shizuo adjusted his eyes to it, glancing away in sheer horror.

It was an image of Shinra.

Death liked to sneak up on people, causing trouble wherever he went. A cheeky, grinning fellow who wielded a scythe. His particular hobby as of late was stealing flowers from a Goddess named Toriel. The light that shone off her cheeks was not enough to distract Death, for he had only one goal: flower-napping. He’d scoop up each bud into his pouch and hid stealthily behind her planted, red tree until she’d emerge from her home.

“Oh, where could my flowers have gone?” She’d ask, seemingly unaware of the footprints that led from her flowerbeds. Death would continue chuckling in brief silence, before she bounded over and snatched him up from his hiding place.

“Ay, it is a lumbering skeleton in my wake. The one they call, ‘sans?’” Toriel would ask in a brisk tone.

“death at your service, milady.” He bowed unceremoniously, while still being held up.

She dropped him, leaving the poor entity to collect the flowers, and place them back into their correct spot.

“I would like to know why Death steals my flowers, is he after my soul? Or perhaps to see a fellow living?” Toriel turned up one eyebrow at him.

He began to shake his head, yet would answer neither question. The grin still fixed onto his face, Death began to make a hasty departure. Unable to do so, he was seized yet again by Toriel, limping in defeat. “Not so fast, Death. I shall accompany you to see this living.”

Anxious, he had no choice but to let the Goddess follow him.

She walked boldly, while he tailed behind her at a slow-paced speed. Would he try and convince her to go home? Give her a reason to turn back?

“it’s no big feat, ma’am. just a simple brush with death.” He jested.

“I shall believe no such thing from you, Reaper.” Her eyes glittered dangerously at the pun.

“not even for a killer one? you’ll only hear from it once.”

“Enough!” Yet, she erupted with laughter.

It would keep the Goddess from inquiring anymore of his destination for the time being, until the pair arrived at an abandoned forest. The icicles hung deadly above the opening, it being rumored to host the souls of the deceased. The Goddess paused wearily, while Death kept walking.

“Why have we come here, sans? Is this being around here?” The Goddess kept from shivering with her pyrokinesis.

“ay, they are a special person who always thought outside the box.” he became dead serious, “ask for them tomorrow, and you shall find a grave man.”

He thumbed through his pouch, and pulling from it the sorrowful petals that cascaded to the ground. He crunched past the snow into a small, humble clearing. Toriel waited, a puzzled expression coating her face. In sudden realization, she finally understood.

sans dropped the flowers on the head of the gravestone, saying few words followed by a sudden uproar of laughing. He placed a hand to its top again, patting it sincerely. He turned back to the awaiting Goddess and said,

Ikebukuro

“I think he’s dead.” It’s a simple, yet subtle proposition. He wouldn’t announce anything further than that, a heavy cloud befallen on the room. The mention of the name stirred a brewing, silent resentment. Shizuo swallows promptly, setting down a drink in the irony of his bartender’s outfit.

Everything happened swiftly, an instantaneous combustion of chaos, and in the center of it all: Izaya. It was what he had come to expect, anyway. In some way, he was constantly involved. It was like him to satisfy that covetous need for the limelight. The anomalous self-righteous “love” for human beings, to cause him to get Shizuo to reveal the ‘monster’ inside of himself.

“Who’s the monster after all?” he could almost laugh, if its hollowness didn’t cause his glass to tremble.

He stops abruptly, suddenly crushed by some form of overwhelming guilt. It was what he deserved right? Shizuo had not even so much as heard an utterance of the nightly, foreboding terrors Izaya had struck in Ikebukuro. Forgotten. Discarded, as he should be. He couldn’t shake off the feeling however, being even remotely responsible for his death.

“You threw a steel beam at him.” Celty’s message lit up on the screen, coupled by a deceivingly cute kaomoji. This caused his eyebrows to furrow in irritance, but he dwelled on the matter no longer. Instead, he focuses on a present matter that was altogether unavoidable.

“You uh, can’t drink this, huh?” A smile lit up on his face, as he pointed down at the glass in front of her. Shizuo was so consumed in his thoughts, he had unknowingly poured a drink for Celty (given that he himself did not like beer). A steam of anger rose up from the headless being, as she proceeded to throw the glass right into his forehead. His sunglasses sprawled onto the ground with a clank, along with the shattered remains of the glass.

“Ya could've just said you didn’t want it!” He sputtered, in half anger, half shock.

The day drags on as Shizuo roamed the streets, snooping out no-gooders and scaring half-wits out of their skins. The ones who knew better of course, avoided him completely, causing the pathways to become quite lonesome. He was seen as nothing more than a loud, rumbling violent machine. “I hate violence.” The single phrase sounded like a broken record, accompanied with a laugh track if Izaya was still around. He’d probably contradict him right on, peeking out behind a pole with:

“Why don’t you give it up already, Shizu-chan? It’s so terribly hypocritical of you.” Then he’d skedaddle with that ‘ol complacent, nonsense grin of his. It ticked him off so much. Yeah, that’s right. He was glad he wasn’t around. At least then, he actually managed to hold down a job for more than a week. His sunglasses glared off the harsh rays of the sun, as Shinra came into focus. The odd man was bouncing on his toes at a crossroad, waiting eagerly for something.

“Ah, I knew that was you as soon as I saw you, Shizuo!” A widened grin appeared on his face.

Shizuo grunted in reply, deciding to stand next to him. His squared shoulders mounted greatly to that of the lounging, giddy doctor. As if on cue, Shinra says, “I’m waiting for Celty! The love of my life.” He puts on a grand falsetto, becoming loony and even dipping his head onto Shizuo’s shoulder.

He cracks his knuckles, and Shinra immediately returns to his given spot. The smile was still imprinted on his face, as if Shizuo’s strength amused him more than frighten him.

“So, your best friend hasn’t been making much of an appearance, hm?”

“Don’t call him that again.” He replies through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, yeah”, he waves him off nonchalantly, “I got tired of you guys fighting. Less city damages means more funding to the family research!” He held up two fingers to form a ‘peace sign’. Before Shizuo can even decide on whether or not to bend back those fingers, Celty zips by at rapid speed. She probably did not even see Shinra, for he is running up the street to chase after her. “Love” meant a funny thing if he was even willing to get hit by a car to catch up. Shizuo was more concerned however, what the rush actually was.

He turned back in the other direction, just as it became near-dawn. He’s glancing down into  the mouth of an alleyway, where a black cat was beginning to emerge. It hissed menacingly and ran off. Shizuo sighs just as the buzz of his cell goes off in his pocket. He yanked it out, believing it to be his boss or another. The lower screen was cracked, but not enough to where he couldn’t see the green notification screen.

A single message read, making his chest flutter with a sudden panic:

It was two words from an unknown sender. Could it have been Celty? If so, why was the name itself blocked as well? His thoughts became filled with an unnerving flood of anxiety. He stood, staring blankly at the screen as it taunted him.

It couldn’t have been...

Izaya was gone, wherever he was. Dead or alive, it didn’t matter. This was probably another gangster or somebody or another, messing with his head again.