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Chapter 15

Posted: 12/03/2021

Status: Ongoing

Author's note: Schedule? What's that? Don't know her

Anyway new chapter lol

Izaya was used to waking up in a silent, empty house as soon as dawn broke. He had always been used to the quiet since as far as he could remember.

He always thought those noisy, boisterous families he could read about in his books were pure fantasy. After all, his own family unit was so much different.

He quickly got up and dressed up in his elementary school uniform, took the backpack he had meticulously prepared the day before, and descended the stairs.

He didn’t bother saying ‘good morning’. After all, there was nobody else but him there.

He made himself a quick breakfast with the leftovers of the previous day, then washed and stored the dishes, making the kitchen look like nobody had even eaten in it once again.

Some days, that statement was true. There were days where he couldn’t bring himself to make food for himself, so he went to the local convenience store and bought some premade lunchboxes with his pocket money.

He had much to spare, yet the store clerk always looked at him with a strange expression that was akin to pity, before giving him some extras, everything at half the price he was supposed to pay. He found it peculiar, but he did end up with fewer meals to cook, so he wasn’t complaining.

Human beings were strange, he thought.

He left the cold house, locking the door behind himself, then went on his way to school. He was early, he always was. Kyouko had always told him to always be at least 15 minutes early to any appointment.

“People will be more likely to respect and listen to you if they think you are dedicated to your work.” She had said, striking red eyes giving him a cold and calculating stare. “Giving a good impression is a very effective way to make worthy allies.”

So, he always arrived to school exactly 15 minutes early, right as the first teachers were arriving. He helped them set up the classrooms, then, as a reward for being so helpful, they let him pick any book he wished out of the ‘grown-up bookcase’, so long as he returned it at the end of the day.

The books they gave his classmates were just too boring to read for Izaya.

Today’s book was talking about the human psyche. He always found those captivating to read, curious as he was about how people’s minds worked. He took in all the information in the book like a sponge, occasionally pulling out a dictionary to look up the definition of the more technical terms, then burning that too in his memories.

At age nine, Izaya was already more knowledgeable about the world than any other nine-year-old ought to be. The adults called him a prodigy, a genius.

Years later, as he grew older, they would call him terrifying. But by then, it would already be too late.

Some time later, the other children arrived and Izaya stored the book away in his backpack. He would finish reading it during playtime. Now was the time to make a good impression on humans his age. This one, Shirou had taught him.

“It’s important to always be calm and polite, Izaya.” He had told him, a barely-there smile on his face. “It makes you approachable, that is how you make connections.”

So, Izaya politely greeted all the students that were coming in a soft voice. Some passed right by him, as if he was invisible, while others greeted him back. All in all, he thought, he was doing well. He was making many connections, among teachers and children alike. He was blending in.

He had no friends, though, but he was fine with that. He wasn’t even sure what friends even were supposed to be.

He much preferred to observe from the sidelines, anyway.

“Keep telling yourself that.” He heard a deep rumble answer his thoughts. He looked around, yet found nobody. He had once read that humans who were born with or developed certain conditions could hear voices. He didn’t recall ever hearing any before, though.

“Seriously? First you think I’m a spirit, then you think I’m an hallucination? Geez.” The voice complained.

What else would a disembodied voice be, if not either of those two, then?

“Maybe I’m just some guy who hid away and is making you think those things as a prank.” The voice suggested.

Izaya recalled the voice being pretty offended earlier.

“Okay fine, I’m not pulling a prank on you, but I can guarantee you I’m neither a ghost nor a hallucination. I’m just having some trouble…manifesting.”

Sounded like something a ghost would say.

“Oh shut up.”

Izaya wasn’t talking, hadn’t said a word since he had first heard the voice.

“God, your thoughts are as annoying as your voice.” The man (he had called himself a ‘guy’, so Izaya assumed he was one) grumbled, but made no further comment, leaving Izaya to focus on today’s activity. Like usual, he did it perfectly, the teacher and his classmates having nothing but praise for him. He didn’t think it was that special, but accepted the compliments anyway.

“You should be more proud of yourself. It’s pretty impressive work for someone your age, you know.”

Izaya didn’t think it was that impressive. This was normal for him, after all. This was what was expected. Kyouko had always been very clear on the matter. Of course he would have perfect results in everything he did. He was her progeny, after all. She would not expect anything less but perfect.

“Heh, I can see where some of your issues came from.” The voice mumbled. Izaya did not comment on that statement, and went about his day.

Come the end of the school day, Izaya went back to the ‘grown-up bookcase’ and put back the book he had finished in its place, gave polite goodbyes to the teachers and his classmates, and he proceeded to go back home. He never heard the voice until he was back inside his house, calmly brushing his teeth before bed.

He froze when his reflection suddenly changed into that of an older man.

“Huh. So I guess that works. Neat.” The man in the glass commented, looking as surprised as Izaya currently was. Izaya definitely recognized his voice, and now he had a face to associate with it. Staring back at him in place of his own reflection was a man with shaggy brown hair and golden eyes. He couldn’t see clearly what the man was wearing, but judging from what he could see of the broad shoulders, he seemed to be wearing some kind of…pajamas?

He quickly spit the toothpaste into the sink, cleaned his mouth, then reached for the mirror. He knocked once, twice. The man had no reaction aside from the quirk of an eyebrow. Izaya then reached for the mirror, removing it from the wall to look at the other side of it. Nothing. He put the mirror back on the wall, staring at the man in the mirror, as if in a silent request for him to explain himself.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I don’t know how I did it. It just kinda happened while I was messing around.”

Izaya narrowed his eyes.

“You said you weren’t a ghost or a hallucination. One of those claims is false.” He accused.

“Look, I know how it looks. But you gotta believe me here. I’m…ah whatever, no matter how much I try to explain it, you won’t believe me.” The man sighed.

“If you provide enough proof, I might believe you.” The young boy answered, now more relaxed after the surprised faded away. Red eyes looked at the mirror with childlike curiosity. “So, what are you?”

“I’m a human.” The man stated plainly, then added, as a second-thought, “Like you.”

“Humans don’t typically replace others’ reflections, or speak as disembodied voices.” Izaya tilted his head, inspecting the man, who cringed.

“Geez, do you have to be so formal? You’re what, six?”

“I’m nine.” Izaya said sternly, as if offended.

“Damn, you’re so tiny. You sure you eat enough? Or ate, I guess…” The last part was murmured, but Izaya’s attention focused right on it.

“Past tense.”

“Ah…yeah.” The man scratched his head, messing up the unruly hair even more, then he sighed. “Ah whatever, subtlety isn’t my thing. Didn’t work the last few times, either. Maybe it made things worse, actually, considering we’re here now.”

Izaya stared at the rambling man with a confused expression. What was he even going on about? He spoke as if they knew each other too, yet Izaya had no recollection of meeting such a strange man.

“That’s because we didn’t meet yet, squirt. I think that’s why I couldn’t show up here in person this time around. At least last time was when we were supposed to meet.”

“Say…what’s your name, mister?” Izaya asked the mirror. He wasn’t sure he completely understood what the man was talking about, but knowing his name would be a good start.

The man in the reflection hesitated, then seemed to have made up his mind.

“Normally, I’d ask you to call me Tsugaru…but that didn’t work out so well the last few times. They told me it’d be better to have you remember by yourself but…I don’t think patiently waiting works. So, well…my name. It’s Shizuo. Heiwajima Shizuo.”

Just as the name left the man’s lips, the mirror broke into a thousand tiny pieces.

As did the world around Izaya.

…

“Around a year after your last fight with Orihara Izaya, you disappeared. At first, nobody knew where you had gone, it was like you had simply vanished into thin air. Your captors, as it turns out, were excellent at cleaning up behind themselves.” Namie recounted the events matter-of-factly. “Unbeknownst to us, the same thing had happened to your dearest enemy simultaneously.”

“But you found us, eventually. How did you do it?” Shizuo asked, ignoring the jab at his relationship with the flea and absent-mindedly rubbing his thumb over the cold, bony hand. It didn’t move, didn’t react whatsoever. Were it not for the slow beeping of the heart-rate monitor, Izaya might as well be considered dead.

“Well you see, we received quite the unexpected package from a just-as-unexpected source, a package that led us right to you. The both of you.”

…

A click is heard in the decrepit room, hidden beneath sand and rubble. Someone clears their throat, inhales, exhales.

“Hello.” The person starts speaking to the object recording their words. Their voice is higher pitched, probably female.

Some shuffling can be heard.

“My name is of no import, because if this succeeds, then my existence will become nil. This is a message to the past, from a future that should have never been, and that hopefully will never come to pass.”

“This message is intended for a specific recipient, so, should the package land in the hands of the wrong person, please forward it to them, along with this recording.”

“The intended recipient of this message is the best courier my parents have ever known, Celty Sturluson .”

Author's note: When writing Izaya as a child, I couldn't help but compare him to Vorona in my head. Of course this is only speculation on my part, but I like to imagine his situation was kinda similar to hers when he was younger, with strict, absent parental figures, and a lot of knowledge coming from the impressive amount of books they read. They both ended up on the wrong side of the law, too, though Vorona took a much more active role in it than Izaya, who still stayed on the sidelines most of the time.

Anyway, this one's a bit shorter, because I felt like the rhythm was better if I cut it off where I did. As usual, I'll be happy to read any comments or theories you have. =)