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Chapter 17

Posted: 24/06/2021

Status: Ongoing

It’s hard to think beyond the pure rage and raw thirst for blood. Around them, all goes up in flames, screams of fear and pain barely even registering in their violence-obsessed minds.

They will pay. They will die.

For their crimes, this will be their punishment.

(What crimes?)

(What had those people done? His memory is fuzzy)

He hears a violent crunch near him and turns towards the origin of the sound. There, he sees his companion (Who was it, again?), hand held up against some security guard’s neck. The man is completely limp, his spine having been crushed to dust.

Seeing his formerly blonde companion (How did he know this?) display such a feat of cold-hearted violence, surrounded by the orange of still-burning flames, awakens something in the very back of his mind, but he can’t seem to get a grasp on whatever it is.

He can’t help but find the scene stunning, like a piece of art that would belong in a museum.

In another time, they would have been found immediately by a small army with red eyes, protected by the shadows of death.

In this one, though, nobody would be able to stop them before it was too late.

…

“It is nice to meet you, Miss Sturluson. I hope you can forgive the fact that I will not be meeting you in person. I will, after all, be dead long before this message arrives in your capable hands.”

Cradled between trembling, shadow-clad hands, the small recording did not care for the emotions of their owner and kept going on.

“I’m sorry to impose such a burden on your already mourning shoulders, I really am. Call this a selfish request of mine…one that only you, someone who is beyond time and space, can grant. This was the wish of my father…well, one of them anyway. I have three, you see.”

From the device, a small, strained laugh could be heard, the first show of emotion from the voice since the beginning of the recording.

In front of the conflicted creature of shadows, stood a lone man, holding another man in his arms. Both men were but simple copies of who used to be her best friend and her occasional employer, yet there was something in the golden eyes that were so familiar. Were he alive, she was sure she would see something similar in the red eyes of the corpse being held so gently against the chest of her old friend’s doppelgänger. But there was no saving that one, his cybernetic brain had killed him, having overheated from having been pushed beyond its limits. A fitting end for him, she thought.

It brought her no solace.

“Along with this recording is a package that contains data. Said data consists of archives of the events that led to this end, a program, as well as…a consciousness. ‘He’ is much like you, in the sense that he isn’t human, but chose to live among them. His preferred method, however, was to transfer his consciousness on the World Wide Web as an A.I.”

“Tsukumoya Shinichi.” The corpse murmured, startling both the creature and the copy.

“Izaya!” The copy yelped. Surprise and hope both cohabiting on his face. The not-as-dead-as-it-seemed corpse just gave him a weak smile.

“The program in question is one he helped make. Because of the limited time and means at our disposal, it is very basic, but we hope it will be sufficient to undo what was done to the original Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya, and prevent that tragedy from happening. Please deliver that data to the past, to Nebula specifically. They are competent, and I’m sure they will have no problem cooperating if the request comes from you.”

The smaller copy weakly murmured something in his fellow clone’s ear, who gently deposited him in the sand, going to fetch something in his pocket. A small USB drive, seemingly innocuous yet containing the possible salvation for the past. He went to stand up, but was stopped by a shaky, abnormally warm hand. Golden met red in confusion. The black-haired clone smiled and turned to lie on his side, exposing the back of his neck. Gold eyes went wide.

”… No.” He whispered breathlessly, his expression gradually turning more horrified by the minute. His only answer was an apologetic smile and a tilt of the head.

A weak hand was slowly lifted to cover the bigger one that was currently holding the small device.

“No. No no no no.”

“It’ll be okay.” A small voice murmured, barely heard under the overwhelming rush of thoughts and emotions.

The trembling hand was slowly lifted, gently cradling an artificial cheek that would have surely been wet, had its owner been physically able to cry.

“It’ll be okay, Shizuo.” He repeated, a sense of finality in his tone. “This is our penance.”

“Shizuo” grimaced, leaning into the touch. He wanted to scream. It wasn’t their fault! They hadn’t been responsible for what happened, why should they suffer for someone else’s crimes ?!

Instead, he nodded slowly, and, after a small moment, brought the small drive to the back of “Izaya“‘s neck. The skin tissue there was faded, exposing various circuitry as well as a small hole that was covered by protective plastic. Once the plastic was removed, the USB drive could be inserted easily.

Flowing from the weakened imitation of one of the destroyers of their old reality and into the drive, were years upon years of history records, an A.I. that originated from the supernatural, a program…and a last, selfish wish.

As soon as all the data was transferred, red eyes turned into a dull rust. A device was offered, and a request was made.

In the downcast but resolute eyes of the clone, she could see the remnants of her dearest friend. She could also tell that this would be the last time she would ever see him.

So, atop the horse that was just as headless as she was, and just as grieving as her, she flew away into a sky of shadows, leaving the lone soul to join his counterpart in oblivion.

There was no hope for either of them, but maybe, just maybe, they could fix this.

…

“So a program wrote another program? Is that what you’re saying?” Shizuo scoffed as he walked in the streets of Ikebukuro. So far, they looked pretty normal, no merging of streets or weird…glitchy stuff happening. Thank fuck for that , he thought, that gave me the headache of a lifetime last time .

” Is that so hard to believe? I mean, we’re talking about brainwashing and time travel, and yet you get stuck at the idea of an A.I. writing a program? You really have a twisted sense of logic, Heiwajima. ” Namie’s voice resonated inside his head, sounding vaguely amused. His phone, as it turned out, was only necessary for him to initiate a call, and could be left in his pocket as soon as it picked up. Handy. Or rather, hands-free .

“Ugh, it’s not that! I mean, Celty doesn’t have a head, so I can certainly believe that supernatural stuff… I’m just…” He muttered. “…not big on that technology shit.”

” Ah, I get it. You don’t understand it, so you reject it. A very human, if stupid, reaction. ”

Shizuo scoffed at both the word ‘human’ and the insult to his intelligence, and continued on his way to Shinjuku. As far as he remembered, that weird hospital had been in that other district, before it all started merging together. Strangely enough, even though he was stuck on foot, he didn’t feel tired, nor did he feel like he was going any slower than if he had taken the train there. Maybe a side effect of being in a computer simulation?

It didn’t take long for him to find his way to the hospital through sheer instinct alone. He stood in front of the doors with some apprehension, remembering the strange experience he had gone through the last time he had been in that place. He also couldn’t ignore the little voice at the back of his head that was telling him he was forgetting something. Someone had been in there with him, other than the flea, yet he couldn’t remember anything about that person. No face, no voice, no name, nothing.

With a sigh, he approached the sliding doors.

… Only to walk right into the glass.

“Argh, fuck!” Shizuo swore. The doors hadn’t opened like they were supposed to, and he walked into them like some idiot. Familiar rage quickly took over, and he threw a punch at the doors…only for his fist to meet an unbreakable surface. He felt his whole body shake with the rebound of his own strength. Of course, his first reaction to pain was to get even angrier, and he went to kick the offending glass, with similar results. “Fucking hell!!”

” … Judging from the primitive screaming, am I safe to assume you are having some trouble? ”

“No fucking shit!!” He growled in annoyance, not even registering who he was talking to anymore.

(If he had been paying more attention, he would have realized he had just yelled at Yagiri Namie, of all people. His future self would regret that action.)

Why weren’t the doors opening? And why the hell couldn’t he just break them? What were those doors even made of, honestly?! Annoyed, he stomped around the length of the building towards the first window he found. He tried breaking the glass, but the result was the same as for the door, same for other windows. He was about to give up when he happened into one particular window.

Looking through the glass, all he could see was complete darkness.

His eyebrows twitched. Weird shit was happening. It was only a matter of time.

But he also knew, almost instinctively, that he would probably find Izaya inside that irregularity. He brought his hand into the form of a fist, and swung towards the inky blackness.

… and immediately found himself surrounded by black.

”… What the fuck?” He asked no-one in particular.

He looked around and found that all his surroundings had disappeared, replaced by nothing but a vast expanse of black. He could see himself perfectly fine, as if in broad daylight, yet couldn’t see anything else. No walls, no ceiling, and while his feet felt like they were touching a hard surface, he couldn’t see any floor to speak of either.

Well, that was fucking weird.

“Miss Yagiri?” He tried.

No answer.

”… Ma’am?”

…

“Namie?”

Nothing.

He tried re-initiating a call using his phone, but found that it would be cancelled immediately, not even ringing once.

”… Great.” He huffed, and began to walk. Where, he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t like there was much else he could do.

Was Izaya in here, somehow? That Yagiri woman did say that strange things had happened because of Izaya’s brain fighting against this…program thing. She had said other weird stuff about his memories being out of whack or whatever.

Honestly, that louse was a pain in the ass even when unconscious, wasn’t he?

He sighed, then took a deep, calculated breath to calm himself. No use getting all worked up over the flea when the guy wasn’t even here to begin with.

… Or so he thought.

“Oh, wonderful.” He heard Izaya’s voice in the void, sounding strangely annoyed. “Am I having hallucinations, is that it?”

Gradually, a body started appearing in front of him. He noticed the wheelchair his rival was sitting in, and was reminded of Izaya’s changing state in the simulation. He had gone from being fully mobile to being unable to walk and clearly in pain (despite trying to appear otherwise). He was facing away from Shizuo.

Shizuo was about to call out to him in his usual way, but suddenly remembered a certain conversation he had had with Namie on his way to the simulated Shinjuku.

“Oh, and whatever you do, don’t tell him your name.” She had said in a strange tone.

“Huh? Why? He already knows it. Even if he always uses that shitty, childish nickname instead.”

“It’s a…theory of mine I developed from analyzing the previous data.” She had explained vaguely. “His brain seems to act differently when you’re concerned. It makes his simulation less of a mess, yes, but I’ve noticed some spikes in his brain activity around the times you told me you interacted. I want to see how different things would be if he thought you were simply a look-alike.”

”… So you want to experiment on him.”

”… So I want to experiment on him.”

He had huffed, then shrugged. Well, if she wanted to test out her little theory on him, he’d play along for now.

“Close, but wrong.” He had kept his voice as calm and even as possible, despite the natural annoyance that always bubbled up from Izaya’s presence alone. Honestly, he wasn’t sure this would even work. They’d known each other for about ten years, there was no doubt in his mind that Izaya would recognize him immediately, even if his hair and clothes were different.

Izaya whirled around using the electronic controls of the chair, looking mildly spooked. His eyes widened in recognition at the sight of Shizuo, and then narrowed.

“Who are you.” The flea demanded, and it took Shizuo everything he had to not gasp in surprise at the simple question. Was he serious right now? He seriously didn’t recognize him? Although, he supposed it made sense. From Izaya’s perspective, he had just been with a very different-looking Shizuo.

For some reason, though, he felt the tiniest twinge of hurt.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he simply answered with the first name he could think of, taken from a folk song he had sung many times when going to karaoke with Tom and Vorona.

”… You can call me Tsugaru.”

“Right. So, ‘Tsugaru’ ,” He emphasized, clearly indicating that he didn’t believe one moment that this was his actual name, “you wouldn’t happen to know what is going on in here, would you not?”

Izaya’s grin oozed defensive aggression. Shizuo thought it was a nice change from the usual all-knowing smirk.

“I do, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh, really now.” Izaya’s eyes narrowed to slits, trying not to show how threatened he felt. Of course, Shizuo knew otherwise, he was blind. Izaya wasn’t in control anymore, and he really, really didn’t like it.

“I came here to get you out of here .” He said. Those weren’t the instructions, really, but there was a small voice at the back of his mind telling him that neither of them were supposed to be here.

For some reason, that small voice, childish and monotone, reminded him of someone. But he couldn’t remember who.

He approached Izaya, but the informant, already on edge, immediately retreated with a threat.

“Stay away, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Shizuo sighed. He never made anything easy, did he?

“Fine. I was gonna bring you to the exit, but alright. Follow me, then.” Not like he knew exactly where said exit was, but he just knew it was nearby. And his instinct was never wrong.

“And why should I trust some man who looks like a copy of my worst enemy? Do you even hear yourself?” Izaya refused to budge, except to get away whenever Shizuo approached him. He looked at him with an exasperated expression.

“Come on, we don’t have time to waste. Stop being a baby and follow me, or I’m carrying you all the way to the exit.” He snapped at Izaya, forgetting the ‘Tsugaru’ act just long enough for his annoyance to show on his face in the form of a frown.

“No.” Izaya said petulantly and Shizuo threw his hands up in aggravation, then launched himself at Izaya, completely ignoring the repeated slashes and stabs all over his arms and back as he took him and threw him over his shoulder.

“We’re going, whether you like it or not. We need you alive.” He said, and let his instinct guide him towards the exit. He heard Izaya complain some more, but tuned him out with gritted teeth.

Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry.

He was trying really hard not to kill the guy right here and then, possibly putting him in a permanent coma. He couldn’t afford to mess up here, the void was becoming more and more oppressive, as if feeling they were trying to escape its clutches. They were almost there, he only needed to go a bit further and—

Shizuo woke with a start in the bed he had fallen asleep in, startling the nurse who was checking on his vitals.

Had he just been…ejected?

Author's note: I'm so sorry if this feels like it's going very slowly, I'm trying my best to make sure it's not too confusing.

With that said, thank you to everyone who's enjoying this story, it means a lot to me!