Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Live… “

“To be able to live is a gift humanity takes for granted.”

“So, I have a question for all of you, a question that I know is always there since the beginning.”

“It’s a part of us, the primal knowledge that remains unanswered since the era of creation.”

“Thus, we keep asking, asking, and asking. It keeps on repeating because humans are never satisfied with one answer. They keep on thirsting for knowledge, but without the awareness of what to do with it. Interesting, isn’t it? I personally think all of you, every human being born in this twisted birdcage called ‘the world’, are really interesting.”

“So, my humans, let me be generous to remind you again of that one question you all desire to know the answer of.”

“What do you think we all live for? Exactly for what purpose?”

“In the end, is it about waiting for the death, expecting our beings to cease from existence?”

“If that’s so, then doesn’t that mean death has been our top priority, for every cell, every line of bone, every drop of blood, every layer of skin we have will just reduce to nothingness?”

“It’s scary, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, humanity is always relating death with something fearful, something they desire to avoid at all costs.”

“But do we really have a choice?”

“And what if I say we have?”

“Tell me, if there is a method to live an immortal life, what will you do?”

“Yearn for it, try to grasp it, reach out your hands like moths to a flame?”

“Interesting, isn’t it? The way all of you do anything to avoid death.”

“But, no, I’m not here to judge. I’m merely an audience for your struggle, your battle against the death.”

“I have lived my life long enough to see the truth, to hear rumors, and sometimes to find things in the borderline between the two.”

“My humans, it’s normal that things aren’t exactly like we think it is.”

“It’s indeed hard to believe, but please do have faith that the story I’m about to tell you relates to the things I’ve mentioned above.”

“It’s about a man who turns into a monster, for becoming one with immortality itself.”

“It’s a curse, but is it really?”

“Even I don’t know for sure. Like I said before, things aren’t always exactly like we think it is.”

“So, be prepared, brace yourselves, for the future lays ahead of us might be tricky.”

“For that, I hope the best to each one of you shall your journey turn you into something else besides a ‘human’.”

“Who knows, you might be becoming more of a monster than ‘him’.”

“Let’s just wait and see, shall we?”

 ///

Sounds of guttural groans, feral screams, and desperate clanks of metal resounded in the meadow, sparking up horror in the birth of dawn. Army of mortals against those of the immortals. Fresh blood poured out as skin torn open with sword and fangs, limbs fell to the ground as the bodies were ripped apart in pure brutality. The insides of stomach came flooding out and figures were no longer recognizable as the predators killed and ate, destroying everything that came their way.

A man, shadowed in a coat blacker than ink, was heading to the edge of the almost ended battle. His hair fluttered slightly by the passing breeze as the black fur that lined every edge of his coat waved along with it in lurid elegance. The grass would make crunching noises that muffled by the war cries whenever his glistening boots tread on it; steps light and relaxed as if the man was walking through the bustling crowd of the city instead of the battlefield.

The end of his coat swept over the ground, following the movements of the confident legs. Hands were shoved inside the pockets as the owner of said coat hummed appreciatively; eyes as red as ruby roamed over the horrible sight with the twinkling of mischief and amusement as if he was watching an orchestra.

“My, my, looks like you have it rough on your end, Commander Joseph.”

The man chirped loud enough for a middle-aged man, clad in black military uniform with medals proudly perched on its front, to notice his presence; expression serious and facial lines accentuated the heavy tension he was feeling.

“So, you’re finally here, Orihara. Not much of a coward, I see.”

The man greeted him with a firm nod; eyebrow twitched slightly as the man named Orihara stared at him in a way a scientist did to his object of the experiment. Said man chuckled lightly; tone light and matched the innocence of a child.

“Ah, it seems I’m not trusted yet, eh? That wounds me, Commander.”

“Just do what you have to do, we don’t have much time.”

Orihara’s lips tugged upward, forming a smirk so sinister it rivaled the predator on its glory. His head tilted slightly in childish mannerism as the cruelty of his next words was as sharp as the edge of a knife.

“It’s you who don’t have that luxury of a time,” He shrugged as if every life, every soul that lost didn’t matter much, “But since I’m here, might as well lend a hand.”

“You’d better be as lethal as what I’ve heard from Shiki, or else your fate won’t be too far off from ours.”

The man huffed silently in annoyance, looking away and fixing his gaze to the unmoving bodies of his men. He didn’t even notice a large raven circled above them before landing graciously on Orihara’s left shoulder.

“Please have no worries, Commander,” he assured; teeth biting the black leather glove which only covered half of his palm as he tried to take it off, revealing slender fingers that were previously hidden beneath. He then took the other glove off and handing them both to his raven which oddly accepted them with its beak. “Once I take a job, I do it professionally.”

He then crouched down to one knee; arms spread open with fingertips touched the grassy ground which was covered with dew. No one but the Commander noticed the grass beneath Orihara slowly froze before lines of silvery white came pouring out from the inside of Orihara’s black furry sleeves like a river flow, down to his fingertips, and spread like a wildfire as it touched the ground. The silver lights continued to travel down the meadow, glistening and sparkling in bizarre serene as they continued to freeze the grass and wildflowers along the way, and when they touched the bodies of the fallen army, something unnatural happened.

Call it a nightmare or a miracle, either way, it was still unbelievable. Torn organs returned to their respective positions, bones cracked and shook violently as they reverted to their original design, bleeding bodies with ripped skin struggled to stand up to their feet—the fallen human army was raised from the death in the span of seconds.

Though their eyes reflected nothing, the army seemed to recognize who their enemies were as they started to attack the vampires without any care. Weapons raised as the battle came back to live and the table had turned.

No matter how many times the vampire army smashed them, they would stand up again to fight like marionettes designed for slaughter, all under one command: victory is absolute. From a distance, shouts of panic could be heard by the puppet master himself whose lips dragged wider into a cruel, unforgiving smile.

                                    “It’s Izaya Orihara’s doing!”

                                                                                                                              “That snake bastard! Filthy piece of shit! Traitor to his own kind!”

                                                                                                            “Pull back, pull back now!”

                                                              “Retreat! It’s no use fighting them!”

“Shall we attack Orihara then?!”

                                                                                                                                         “We can’t even go through his army, it’s impossible!”

                                  “Regroup! We have to regroup!”

                                                                                                                                                                                                     “Scatter, all of you! Go to the forest!”

                                                                                                                        “Go hide for now!”

It was a dramatic change, every shout tasted like victory he just couldn’t help but admiring the view as though it was a flower garden full of roses.

Izaya Orihara was indeed a very sly, but intelligent man. He knew which side he could offer his strength to, all for the sake of survival. With talent as rare as necromancy, he ensured his own fate.

“Congratulations.”

Commander Joseph said with eyes still sparkled with awe and a bit of relief as Izaya slowly stood back to his feet, dusting off his coat in the process.

“Ah, the pleasure’s all mine,” He smiled politely; decided it was a good time to show his business-liked attitude as he took his leather gloves back from the raven still perched on his shoulder, “And thanks for holding onto them, Electra. They’re my favorite pair.”

The raven named Electra tilted her head as Izaya tickled her beak, seemingly understood that the act was an expression of gratitude. Commander Joseph regarded them oddly before shaking his head in resignation.

“They would last, wouldn’t they?”

Izaya shifted his gaze to Commander Joseph who had his back turned on him; fully understood the meaning behind his question as his business smile returned to his face.

“Of course, they’ll still move even if I’m not here, and they’ll also listen to your orders.”

Satisfied with the answer, Commander Joseph nodded firmly. “You have my thanks.”

“Like I said, Commander, the pleasure’s all mine!” He chirped out a bit too cheerfully, and almost snickered at the end of his sentence when a clatter of hoofs, as well as a horse neigh, was suddenly heard.

“Well, it seems like your ride’s here already, Orihara.”

Commander Joseph cocked his head toward the arrival of a headless horse pulling a two-wheeled open carriage with a headless woman acted as the driver. The cart stopped right in front of Izaya, and the woman—the dullahan—hopped off to greet him with sign language. Her black Victorian dress fluttered elegantly with every movement.

[Izaya, done already?]

“Ah, Celty! Always right on time, eh?”

Izaya grinned at the dullahan as he put the leather gloves back on whilst Electra tried so hard to stay in balance on her master’s shoulder; flapping her wings unappreciatively in the process.

[We have to hurry back, a new mission just came in.]

To this, Izaya raised an eyebrow; gaze locked with the black smoke emanated from Celty’s neck where the head was supposed to be. The moment of silence briefly fell upon before Izaya broke it with a knowing sigh. He turned to look at Commander Joseph who rewarded him with nothing but a stern expression.

“Very well, Commander, I guess it’s about time I leave.”

“So it is.”

He reached out his hand which was accepted immediately by said commander; the weight of the rough fingers felt strenuous and uncomfortable to his leathered one.

“I wish you the best of luck.”

Commander Joseph said nothing to that except a firm nod though he knew the words smelled heavy with worst of pray. He only watched in silence as Izaya hopped onto the cart; Electra cawed noisily in his direction and flapped her wings, probably her way of saying goodbye.

With neighs from the headless horse and his clattering of hoofs, the cart departed; circling back to where it came before stepping up to the air. The rest of the army—the still living ones—watched them in awe as they took a turn that headed to the city.

Inside the cart, Izaya found a file that smelled suspiciously of his new mission. So he took it in his palms and began numbing through its pages. He felt the cart creaked as Celty hopped inside and sat on the opposite side, trusting her horse to bring them both to their destination. Izaya watched her in amusement; really, how could she just jump in so languidly with that dress?

She then tried to converse in sign language again, explaining the new mission she just received from the higher ups.

[We’ve finally found a lead regarding the philosopher’s stone!]

“Well, well, isn’t that good news~”

He smirked confidently; crimson eyes glistened with excitement as he read the context of the page.

“Nicholas Flamel’s infamous philosopher’s stone… it’s said to be missing in that ‘incident’, and now the piece of the puzzle has resurfaced.”

Celty snapped her fingers to gain Izaya’s attention back from the papers; arranging words by the fast movements of her hands though Izaya had no problem in catching the meaning.

[Just don’t do anything reckless, okay?]

“You really wound me, Celty.” Izaya chuckled briefly, feigning hurt as Electra struggled to not be pushed by the strong wind. “When have I ever done something so frivolous in my mission?”

Celty’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled deeply.

[Who are you fooling, really?]

“No one, really!”

Izaya made a peace sign with his hand; expression mildly amused as he chuckled again at the disbelieving gesture Celty made.

“And you should just change this cart to something…modern, you know. I feel very old riding this.”      

With that said, Celty’s shoulders shook lightly as she giggled.

[Shinra said I should change Shooter into a motorbike. What do you think?]

The necromancer tapped his chin as he considered his friend’s idea. While the thought of having a headless horse disguised as a motorbike seemed like a joke, he thought it might be entertaining.

“Sure, it sounds better than old carriage!”

A playful jab to his stomach was what he received afterward as Celty giggled again in amusement.

[Oh, shut up. This old carriage is your fastest transportation!]

“Yeah, sure, sure~”

He waved a hand dismissively, faking a tired sigh as Celty continued with her sign language.

[Anyway, what will you do with him?]

“Ah, great question!” Izaya hummed and nodded in approval though his playful expression betrayed the serious tension he tried to create. “Since this is so sudden, I haven’t got a clear view of the situation yet. But when it comes to beasts, we have no choice but to capture them forcefully!”

Celty sighed again in surrender whilst Izaya threw her his signature smug smirk.

[Whatever, just don’t die. Maybe a few broken bones, but you’ll heal anyway, so it’s okay.]

“Now I know why you and Shinra are a good match, thank you so much for your caring advice.”

The necromancer narrowed his eyes; putting on betrayed expression at the dullahan who had playful gesture as she formed her next sentence.

[He really looks dangerous, though. So be careful!]

“I know,” Izaya answered simply, looking down to a portrait of a young, attractive man with shining blond hair; an aggressive scowl was carved in his facial lines. Next to the picture were Japanese characters which read as ‘Shizuo Heiwajima’.

His lips automatically dragged into a smirk full of wild excitement which didn’t go unnoticed by Celty.

But, he also looks like fun.

Chapter Text

There were a few things about Izaya Orihara that you should know. First was about his identity. If you guessed he was not human, then you were on the right track. His form might resemble that of a human being, but inside he was the same creature as the one that had slaughtered Commander Joseph’s army, in another word, vampire.

He mingled and blended with humanity with many of his masks in the world where society divided into two sides. These sides stood back to back, completing each other like the surfaces of a coin. First was humanity with their entire normalcy, living their lives in complete ignorance of a greater force that surrounded them. Second was humanity with complete awareness of it and the talent to tame it.

This force took a lot of shapes and names, but some of you were more familiar with the name ‘magic’, and just like everything that existed, it also had two sides—light and dark, white and black, or whatever you might call it.  In its long history, it had given birth to many legends that we never took a serious note of. But, that was a story for another time.

In short, the humans that were born with the natural talent of doing things with the help of this force were called ‘the philosophers’, or better yet, ‘wizards’. Their number was big enough to form something of a brotherhood—secret organization called ‘The Order of Merlin’ that controlled things in the background, putting everything in order. To them, the anomaly was a weed that needed to be plucked, and that weed took in the form of bewitching creatures besides humanity—a monster, or so they were called. To them, Izaya was that monster.

But, he survived by making a good use of his rare, natural talent. Yeah, even amongst the wizardry, necromancy was the rarest jewel—a form of dark magic that was well-respected. Being a creature of high intelligence, Izaya knew this really well. Thus, he offered his talent to the Order of Merlin in exchange for his own ensured survival, that and a bit of money. He was doing well though the shackles were very much of a hassle.

The second thing you had to know about him was that, as a vampire, Izaya was very much able to control his thirst. He was also able to eat human’s food though he could live without it. Then again, eating what human eats was necessary however tasteless it would be for the sake of keeping his identity a secret.

Third, he lived with Celty and Shinra, with the addition of Electra and Shooter, in an old house of his hidden up the hill, but that was barely important. Fourth, Izaya Orihara loved humans. He loved observing them in their natural habitat, and would find himself either climbing the tree near his house to watch the sleepless city he lived in or strolling around the busy streets just to chat some humans up.

He loved to watch their behaviors, reactions, and expressions, especially in a desperate situation. For him, it was entertaining and amusing, and Izaya found it very hard to control the urge of pushing them to the limit just to see what humanity would do. But, the tight leash the Order of Merlin was putting him on had successfully prevented him from doing something extreme.

Fifth, he had a large raven as his familiar named Electra. She was an intelligent bird and proved to be a great assistant much to Izaya’s pleasure. From the moment he found her in the yard in front of his house, wounded but still tried to bite his fingers off, Izaya immediately took a liking to her and they were inseparable since.

Sixth, however much Izaya loved adrenaline rushed to his system, he had never been a fan of teleportation. Thus, he immediately pulled Electra into a hug and braced himself for what was coming as Celty threw the keystone to the surface of a lake that was located at the outskirt. Keystone was a sea-colored gemstone that was used as teleportation for philosophers; just put it on the surface of things with a high percentage of transparency and concentrated your mind on the destination, that way you would be able to go through it and arrived exactly at the place you were thinking of.

It was convenient, but the process of teleportation was far from comfort. So when Shooter took a sharp fall, he knew a headache was about to come. The water splashed as they crashed to its surface, and Izaya immediately felt the familiar sensation of his body being pulled in all directions and all he could see was a paralyzing pattern of colors before finding himself out of the swimming pool located in the town he lived in; only realized it was still nighttime when he stole a glance at the moon that was perched in the plain, black sky.

Celty was shaking with silent laughter—probably enjoying his mask crumbled into mortified expression—and Izaya could feel his lips forming half smirk, half grimace whilst letting go of Electra who immediately flew to the top of his head. The familiar loud, booming voice from the entrance was the only thing that stopped him from wording out something cynical.

“My darling, Celty~!! Finally, you’re here! I’m almost dying waiting for your elegant advent!!”

A glasses-wearing brunet approached them with open arms and silly, dreamy expression on his face; white lab coat was waving eagerly behind as the owner fastened his pace to the cart.

[Then just die, Shinra.]

Celty greeted him back with practiced movements; black smoke swirled freely in hidden amusement as she watched Shinra Kishitani’s face contorted into something between surprised look and adoration.

A few whiny complaints spluttered out from his lips like a bomb and Izaya was very tempted to drown Shinra in the pool.

“Celty, even your cruel words could make me feel so loved! You really are the only one for me, and even tonight, when I looked at the moon, your name was the only thing I could think of! Oh, no, I think I’m ill—feverish from the so-called love sickness. Celty, do you mind spending your eternity taking care of my well-being?”

Shinra brought his hands to his chest in dramatic motion; eyes closed in odd satisfaction and lips tugging into a smile full of hope. Seeing this, Izaya snorted and couldn’t hold back an eye roll.

“Yeah, yeah, could you confess your undying love in another day, Shinra? I’m afraid you have something prepared for me, or so Celty said.”

Izaya had a coy look plastered on as he dipped every syllable in a cup of mockery; head tilted slightly as his elbow propped on the edge of the black cart. Though dumbfounded at first, Shinra immediately cracked an automatic smile.

“Ah, right, Orihara-kun! Pardon my forgetfulness, although it’s normal when you’re in front of a beautiful creature as mesmerizing as Celty!”

The necromancer watched as his friend turned around and walked back to where he was coming from; taking a white attaché case that was previously leaning on the wall near the entrance door. Shinra returned with the goofy smile still glued to his face; intentionally walking to where Celty was instead of Izaya.

With the help of the love of his life, Shinra hopped in the cart, taking Celty’s place as the dullahan returned to the driver’s seat. She then placed silver badge—the one you would get when you worked for the Order of Merlin—on the cart, just beside her waist; it automatically glued to the wood-liked material and made them invisible to the humans without the natural talent to do magic—‘the unsage’, or so philosophers used to call them.

“Everything you need is in there! So you don’t need to worry about being underprepared.”

Shinra chirped out his reassurance as Izaya regarded him with an unreadable expression.

The necromancer’s hands slowly unlocked the case and opened it to reveal a set of weapons. The corner of his lips curved upward into an arrogant smirk as he pocketed the things that might be useful inside his coat. At that moment, Electra decided to come down from Izaya’s head and landed next to her master; stealing a judging gaze to the contain of the said case.

“You have my thanks, Shinra.”

“You’re very welcome!” Said bespectacled man who sat across from him with a cheerful laughter.

In silent, Celty threw another keystone to the pool before urging Shooter to go for a dive. Izaya situated his body for the upcoming impact as Electra clawed his hoodie tightly. Just like before, Shooter ran and brought them under the water in shocking speed before getting them out almost immediately from the river in a certain protected forest.

Izaya thought it was the end of the unpleasant part but Shooter proved him wrong as that headless horse accidentally took a really sharp turn and dropped both Izaya and Shinra from mid-air. Shinra fell back to the river with a loud splashing whilst Izaya landed at the riverside haughtily like a feline despite the numbness his body was suffering from.

Celty’s shadow caught Shinra’s leg and lifted the bespectacled man up before he got lost in the flow, then threw him beside Izaya who refused to break his friend’s fall. Meanwhile, Electra drifted toward Shooter as soon as said horse and Celty landed oh so nonchalantly to spew some angry croaks.

Celty hurriedly approached them, forming apologetic words with his flustered sign language and earning a dismissal wave hand from Izaya after the necromancer threw a disgusted look at Shinra who was busy emptying his stomach at the riverside.

[S-so, how do we find him here?]

Celty asked hesitantly whilst occasionally rubbed Shinra’s bare back in a soothing pattern.

The bespectacled brunet’s clothes were drenched and he was forced to take them off by the worried Celty, leaving him half-naked with soaked baggy pants.

Izaya let the silence fall briefly before answering Celty with a question of his, “You said before that Order of Merlin has sent some philosophers to corner him just when you were about to pick me up, right?”

[What about it?]

“Then, that means there was—or at least, is—battle in here, no?”

A twisted smile crept its way into Izaya’s face as wild excitement danced freely in crimson orbs. Celty stared at him silently as her shadow swirled in confusion.

“I will need a guide,” the necromancer added as he took his leather gloves off and threw them into the cart. He then walked to the dried part of the riverside before sitting cross-legged on it; both hands were on top of his thighs as the necromancer slowly closed his eyes.

At first, there was nothing happened and Celty was about to go to Izaya when the silver light suddenly flowed out from said necromancer’s body, surrounding his sides like a halo. If Celty took a closer look, the halo was formed by thousands of silver strings that fluttered lazily as though there was a passing breeze that moved them. The longer she kept her eyes on him, the brighter the light became, and just like before, the ground beneath Izaya slowly covered with ice as if the sudden winter came to that spot only.

Not long after, transparent figures were popping out from every direction like a group of moths attracted to a bright flame.

“Wandering spirits…” Shinra whispered as his eyes gleamed with admiration, making Celty turn to him briefly before continuing to watch Izaya again.

They were almost translucent, enveloped in dim blue light, glistening like gemstones under the sun. People with different kind of attires, eras, and reasons of death were gathering in this particular spot—Celty observed them with fear and awe as each one of the spirits showed no emotion whatsoever, as if the stony expression was permanently carved onto them after they died.

Izaya seemed to be concentrating hard as the number of spirits was significantly increased; it somehow made the temperature drop at that particular area and Shinra started to shiver more, using this as an excuse to scoot closer to Celty.

Though the spirits didn’t open their mouths to talk directly, Izaya could hear their thoughts as clear as day. It was mostly groans of pain or stubborn purrs of ‘help’. Really, summoning spirit was easy, but choosing one to actively converse to was hard since spirits tend to be dominated by the remaining wills before they died.

After minutes of contemplating, Izaya finally dismissed all of the spirits—which disappeared instantly like a dead flame—except for one that stood behind him. The necromancer cracked open his eyelids and got back on his feet, grimacing as he saw his black coat got dirty with dust and soil before turning around to face the spirit he had chosen.

It was a middle-aged man, clad in forest police uniform and probably taller than average. Izaya put a hand on his jutted hips as “Show me” rolled out of his tongue; expression coy with confident smile adorned on it.

Without waiting for another order, the spirit turned into a ball of light and took off to a certain direction, leaving trails of glittering blue dust in the air.

“You guys wait here, and Electra, come with me.” Izaya cocked his head to where the spirit had gone off to, signaling his raven to follow.

Before Shinra and Celty gave their answers, the necromancer had dashed off, crossing the river with inhuman speed to the other side of the forest. He then jumped to the nearest tree branch and decided to continue his trip by parkouring from one tree to another. Adrenaline was slowly filled him, he could feel it, the fun was about to start.

The edge of his coat fluttered angrily behind as his eyes fixated on the path ahead. Every trunk he passed felt like a stair and the gust of the wind that was hitting his face felt like a railing his hand had to grip on. It was not only adrenaline but also the thirst for knowledge—curiosity, that made him thrive forward, he mused.

Without realizing, his lips had dragged wider into a wild, mischievous smirk as his blood pumped by sheer excitement. He continued to parkour to the foothills, following the flash of blue that seemed to know where they were going.

After minutes of jumping around and only listened to the rustling of wind and leaves, a booming, angry growl finally reached his ears. It followed by horrendous buzzing noises and explosions, as well as screams of pain, and his smirk grew wider at the said sign of obliteration. Izaya admitted he had never been this delighted for a fight before. He couldn’t wait to see just what kind of monster he would meet at the end of the path.

But, his elated thoughts had to be disturbed as he ducked down to avoid a man flying his way before crashing into one of the trees, dragging the trunk down with him.

What the actual—

The scene that unfolded before him was beyond what he was expecting. Old trees were forcefully pulled out to their roots and seemed to be plugged haphazardly back into the earth, leaving a certain area free of trunks but filled instead by unmoving bodies of exactly 15 philosophers. Blood splattered everywhere, painting the bushes and grass with a sickening red, as limbs were bent unnaturally, forcing the bones to be out of their original shapes.

Some of the areas were stained with charcoal color, with soil a spattering mess and rocks turned into a heap of gravels. The air also smelled thick with blood, smoke, and residue of magic, but Izaya’s brain didn’t give it a second thought as its owner seemed to be transfixed by a particular man who was standing in the middle of the fallen philosophers. Battered shirt and torn black vest, blond hair shining brightly under the moonlight as the man—the beast in front of him was breathing raggedly, either from exhaustion or rage. Izaya just couldn’t take his eyes off of the man whose face was exactly the same as the one in the photograph he had inside the file.

Violence, danger, monster—his thoughts were swirling in foreign ecstasy he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Instead of human’s ones, a pair of wolf ears seated on each side of the man’s head with golden fur lining on every edge of said hearing tools, down to his sharp jawline. The hands that were awkwardly hung on each side were also covered in fur which ended just before the nails—no, scratched that, claws. Claws, long and sharp, with the still dripping blood on each of its tip.

Aside from the ears and claws, everything on him very much seemed like that of a human being. Izaya was so intrigued by the sight; he didn’t even realize he was holding breath as he plopped down to the ground.

At the sound of Izaya landing, the man immediately turned to him. Sharp fangs could be seen clearly as the man let out a warning growl at his arrival.

After letting the numbing silence fall for seconds, Izaya finally regained his composure before uttering his words; tone relaxed as if he only greeted a longtime friend and not an actual angry werewolf, with a hint of purring at the end of the sentence.

“So, you’re Shizuo Heiwajima, the holder of the philosopher’s stone. My, what a strength~”

Shizuo growled lowly again before sniffing the air; eyebrows creased as his scowl grew prominent. His respond to what Izaya said earlier did manage to surprise the necromancer, though.

“I don’t like you.”

At that, Izaya’s already arrogant smirk grew into something more maniacal. His crimson orbs sparkled with insane joy, challenging Shizuo’s mocha brown ones in a fiery gaze.

“Ah, that’s too bad,” he purred; fingers curling as silver strands of light pooled around his fingertips, and when Izaya brought his hands to the front of his chest, the strings had accumulated in the center of his palm, tangling to one another and forming sparkling silver balls that vibrated gently.

He intentionally let the silence hung between them before extracting his next words, rolling out every syllable clearly and firmly.

“And here I thought we could have some fun together.”

Chapter Text

Izaya Orihara claimed to love humans. It didn’t necessarily mean as food, he just loved observing them for they were such a fascinating species. Their mind was such a complex of self-righteousness that if you were to give a little push, maybe a little twist of words, they would act out upon emotions and justified their doings afterward.

He loved how they could turn from a simple-minded being to a complicated bundle of emotions in just the blink of an eye. He loved to predict their minds and reactions since humanity could be both predictable and unpredictable, and would accept any result no matter how ugly it was. He loved how they could love and hate. Sometimes, their hatred came from love, but sometimes, there was the kind of love that born from the hatred that ran too deep.

The capability humans had to keep these two strongest emotions so that they could co-exist, mingle together, and create both chaos and order was truly magnificent, Izaya mused. He had lived for ages and had seen many forms of affections, including the twisted one. But, if he had to give one word to describe all of it, then it would be ‘selfish’. Yes, the love humans had was a selfish one. They might say they didn’t need anything in return, but they were always hoping the target of their affection would return their feelings. In the end, they just did it for self-satisfaction. It was so very typical, yet they still basked themselves with the sugary belief that their act of love didn’t have anything to do with their ego.

If there was a selfless love out there, then it would be Izaya’s, or so he proclaimed. It didn’t matter if the humans he loved loved him back or not, Izaya would still love them all the same—each and every one of them out there. He loved them, no matter what kind of people they were and no matter how they viewed him. He couldn’t just choose one human to love more than the others since it wouldn’t be fair. It was the nature of his love, selfless and unilateral. Izaya Orihara loved humanity and all its traits, and he was very confident that nothing could steal his attention away from his beloved humans. Except, that night, he was proven wrong.

For once, Izaya Orihara who claimed to love humans didn’t think of finishing his mission immediately and going home to observe his favorite toys, nor did he think the heavily injured philosophers that were desperate enough to fight were amusing since his mind was currently occupied with a certain man—a monster that was the embodiment of violence.

Shizuo Heiwajima, the beast he just met was able to make him momentarily forget about the humans he loved.

And for that, Izaya despised him.

His love, as well as his attention, was meant for humans and not for monsters. So, how could—no, how dare this monster make him unable to look away, unable to think of anything besides the possibility of what would happen if that strength of his coming face to face with his body?

Ah, Izaya sure hated monsters, despite being one himself.

Everything came down just like Newton’s third law: ‘for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’; with Shizuo growling warningly and Izaya returning the favor by flashing a smirk that spoke of wordless taunt. The fury was clearly visible in the blond’s posture as a line of teeth as well as a pair of menacing fangs were bare for the necromancer to see in the form of aggressive snarl. Hands were balled into a tight fist, drawing the white over the tensed knuckles. Shizuo’s shoulders hunched slightly as his angry gaze took in the cruelty of the crimson orbs. Izaya really wanted to laugh as he realized the monster was trying to fight every current of anger that coursed through his blood.

A monster shouldn’t act like human.

Izaya would not allow that to happen. As much as it was laughable, the thought still didn’t sit well with him; it gave his chest a weird, uncomfortable feeling like being pressed against something hard which was unfamiliar to him, so he associated it with disgust. Yes, he must be disgusted. Hence, he really wanted to point that out by letting out a dry cackle; the sound came out in a high pitch, higher than he intended. A cackle so aggressive it matched the menace of Shizuo’s snarl. It was a sign, a sign of defiance which negated Shizuo’s final warning.

So, it wasn’t really a surprise when he saw Shizuo kicking his left foot to the ground with so much force it left a gaping hole when the blond took off on a quick dash at him. The edge of Izaya’s lips immediately pulled wider into a maniacal grin at the sight of the incoming danger. His heart was thundering against his ribcage, pumping blood, as the self-defense instinct burned his mind, trying hard to reduce his tower of pride into ashes and hissing ‘escape’ to the brain. Despite the war happening inside, Izaya stayed still; his posture was steady but also ready as if he was welcoming a friend into a hug rather than trying to take down a wild beast.

Every second was important; Izaya couldn’t afford to make a mistake from the start, or else the victory would run away from his sight. So, when Shizuo’s punch was about to fly to his face, Izaya brought the two silver spheres together and created an explosion of blinding, pure white. The loud screeching noise like nails scraping on a blackboard combined with the angry light managed to seal Shizuo’s senses off momentarily, giving Izaya enough time to draw out a silver switchblade from his coat pocket while having his eyes closed. He mentally thanked Shinra for preparing this on such a short notice even though his friend’s actual motive was to impress Celty. He could feel it, the second his fingers touched the handle and experienced the weight of the knife as he swung it, that the compatibility was just perfect. The design and texture of the handle was modified so that it was easier to grip on. He really had to thank Shinra after all, though it had to wait after he successfully ended his mission.

When the light died down, and he saw the brute still paralyzed from the explosion, Izaya wasted no time to swing it at him; the sharp edge was grazing the sun-kissed skin, tearing along the dusty white fabric and showing a line of an angry red where blood started to ooze from it. The attack seemed to make Shizuo snap out of it; he took a step back and looked so confused at first. That until their eyes met again; a pair of shocked mocha colored orbs pulled toward the ruthless crimson that filled with something akin to mad excitement. The cruel grin was showing itself on the necromancer’s face as guttural growl escaped Shizuo’s lips. It almost felt like Izaya was high on adrenaline, but indeed, he was feeling really good at the moment. The sensation of Shizuo’s flesh meeting with his switchblade—the idea that he had marked the monster was oddly satisfying.

A punch flew over at his direction again which Izaya had no problem dodging it. But then, Shizuo stayed still with his gaze casted downward and for a moment there, Izaya thought the beast wanted to get the jump on him by a surprise attack. That was until golden threads were coming out from Shizuo’s left chest where his heart resided.

By intuition, Izaya put some distance between them immediately. By intuition, Izaya knew the new form of danger was about to come. By intuition, he knew he was craving for it. Shizuo’s whole body was slightly trembling—either it from anger or from suppressing his power Izaya wasn’t sure which one—as thousands of golden strings kept pouring out and circling over his figure, little by little swallowing him whole.

In the span of seconds, the monster had turned into a luminous cocoon; the golden brightness was touching the surrounding darkness so gently, a contrast to what was about to come. Izaya didn’t even have time to (mockingly) compare it with butterfly metamorphosis as the size of the said cocoon grew bigger and bigger while vibrating gently like Izaya’s silver spheres earlier. Right at the moment, strategies and possible outcomes were lining up inside the necromancer’s head. He probably could capture the monster while he was in that state, but the lack of knowledge of how much brute force and the fighting pattern Shizuo Heiwajima had was bugging him. It was very much like an amateur dealing with a time bomb. Comparison aside, he was kind of at a disadvantage if he were to make a move right then. So, he had to do what his best at doing: observing, at least until he got a pattern.

The weight of his switchblade felt heavy on his pocket coat; his fingers continuously curled into a fist, itching to take the weapons out. Hence, he just shoved both hands inside his pockets and gripped tightly at the handles to ease his nerves a bit. He watched the golden cocoon of doom arose to a certain height that was certainly taller than him or the original, half-human form of Shizuo Heiwajima. His lips pressed into a thin line, one of the edges curled a bit with a strain in it. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face and fell to the declivity of his black hood.

He was actually anxiously waiting for something bizarre to happen, but when it did happen, his reaction was too slow as the crack soon appeared on the surface of the cocoon, followed by an even bigger cracks and it spread out so fast like a broken glass. Izaya intended to put more distance when the explosion happened. Orange dipped light broke out, no sound came out. It was just pure brightness, a mute outburst, but that much was enough to distract Izaya momentarily. He was still shielding his eyes when a big shadowy figure was running (potentially with four legs) toward him and when he did catch a glimpse of it, he didn’t have a chance to run. The fangs pierced through his layer of clothes and into his flesh so deep it immediately broke his ribs with a loud crack. Then he felt his body was being shook harshly (more flesh ripped, more blood splashed, and ribs as well as internal organs, saved for his heart, crushed until the remaining pieces scattered somewhere inside his body) before being thrown almost one kilometer away; his back crushing the trees along the way to the foothills.

The abrupt stop of his harsh flight followed soon after with a loud bam and a cloud of dust covering the area. He coughed, and coughed, and found out that more blood kept pouring out from his throat. Not to mention the intense nausea that attacked him mercilessly as a result of the impact he had. Grimacing slightly, he tried to move his limbs and sit straight but to no avail. Izaya let out an exasperated sigh as he leaned his bleeding head to the big cracks of the rock behind him. Hiss of pain and discomfort escaped his lips between the ragged breathing; Izaya completely gave up on trying to move and left his body to his natural fast-regeneration ability, deciding to take a short break before the beast came to find him. As he dazed out on his blurry sight, an odd amusement tingled his mind and triggered rough chuckle to form itself.

Heh, I can’t believe he did this much damage to this body. He really is a monster, what a terrifying strength… yet, so interesting.

There was a buzzing inside his ears as the crack in the back of his skull started to close by itself, but even with the noise he could still faintly hear a long howl the monster unleashed. It was a gamble, he mused, a matter of racing against the time. If Shizuo found him with his body in the middle of healing process like this, then that would be his doom. Izaya loved to flirt with danger and sometime, even death itself being the necromancer he was, but he still thought that night he had taken the game to a whole new level. A combination of half smile, half smirk showed itself on his face as he decided to close his eyes to concentrate on his hearing sense instead. Surrendering himself in total darkness behind his lids, Izaya listened to the pop and crack sounds that kept echoing as his body forced the cells to regenerate faster so the wounds and fatal injuries could leave with no trace at all.

Minutes passed by with what felt like hours and his body was almost completely healed. But at the exact same time, the monster had to show up like he was an invited guest who came late to the tea party. The low growl and the exhibition of extraordinarily sharp fangs, as well as a magnificent golden fur which looked like it glistened in all its glory as the moonlight cast down on its figure, came as a fair warning that the fight was far from over—a bad omen that reeked so much of death.

And all Izaya did was smirk, that reeked so much of both malice and madness.

“Welcome back, Master.”

Chapter Text

Just in case you want to know what song I used as my muse to write this chapter: Wolves Without Teeth -Of Monsters and Men  

“Do you know what vampire eats?”

Izaya once asked this to one of the girls he manipulated back then. She then answered with a bit of hesitation laced in the words, “Umm, it’s blood… I think.” At that time, Izaya had to hold back from snorting. Instead, he masked his amusement with a sugar-coated smile that could pass as gentle to anyone that didn’t know his true nature. It was so typical, he mused, an answer that was so innocent, affected by many published supernatural-themed books that could be easily purchased in local bookstores. Izaya didn’t blame her, of course, and neither had he blamed the authors that had written such stories because after all people liked to romanticized legends and myths from time to time. The truth was she wasn’t completely wrong but wasn’t right either.

Izaya remembered the curious look the girl gave him as she waited for the revelation, and of course, with his character being the way it was Izaya refused to answer with straight honesty. Crimson gaze bore onto the girl’s feminine features; pastel colored dress with circles of pink, blue, and yellow smeared on it in random pattern with a pink ribbon tied just below the breasts which revealed slender waistline, the girl had applied thin makeup to look more natural but the grace of it still could be seen combined with lovely waves of caramel-colored hair that she intentionally let down to her waist level. “Well then, how do you feel about me?” He asked again, trying to give away the answer with another question; Izaya kept his tone in serious level with a little hint of curiosity to make the fake sincerity easily twist into a real one. Being caught off guard by the question, the girl blushed and hurriedly averted her gaze; cheeks tinted with a matching pink just like her dress and ribbon. The smirk unfolded as his eyes captured that common reaction, shy gestures and stutter made it so easy to look at what was inside her heart. Because after all, that was the answer, heart. Vampire ate human’s heart, representing a demon crawling under the skin.

It could be right or even incorrect altogether, at least for Izaya, that was just a metaphorical version of the answer.

“Welcome back, Master.”

The words rolled out easily, honey-dipped taunt poured out like a blood from a fresh wound. At this point, he wasn’t even sure the beast still understood human languages, but the taunting habit had been carved too deeply onto his bones to the point he chirped it out in autopilot rather than picked the option out of his own free will as soon as the light footsteps, or rather, paw steps stopped just a few meters ahead. The beast glowered venomously at him; honey-brown eyes were anything but friendly with pupils constricted to vertical slits. Its size was big, obviously bigger than an ordinary wolf and from the way it was, Izaya thought it was even bigger than a liger. Even when it was standing with its four legs, the height was a bit taller than an adult human. As it looked down to where Izaya was still sitting at, it let out a soft growl but still audible enough for the necromancer; its eyes were staring directly at those challenging crimson orbs to show dominance, body posture elevated, tail pointed straight in the air, and lips tightened to expose threatening teeth in the form of a snarl. A gust of wind passed by, caressing the line of silky golden fur into tiny, dancing waves, giving off a vibe of false serenity.

“You’ve ruined one of my favorite coats, how cruel.”

The beast continued its approach as if it had never halted before; with each step, Izaya’s grin grew wider and the beast’s annoyance sprung up higher. He let out a chuckle that was more like a choked gasp, and soon it turned into a mania of laughter; the cutting edge of his laugh echoed like fire, burning the biting cold of the wind and the freezing dirt underneath him. He craned his neck a bit while he gazed at the incoming danger; eyes caught the beast’s gaze fell to his own thundering pulse, pumped by adrenaline-tainted anticipation. It didn’t take a fool to know what the prominent danger was after and it was confirmed with the beast lowering his front to the ground level; claws planted firmly into the ground as smoothly as birthday candle into the cake. It was only when the beast leaped off the ground that Izaya’s fingers twitched, stirring the silver strings that were hidden behind rubble to wake. In the span of seconds that the beast almost got to him, rocks, stones, pebbles were flying toward it as if there was a sudden magnetic force activated; the beast was pinned down just a few meters ahead of Izaya and letting out aggressive roars as it tried to break free. It clawed, shook, and even bit to get rid of them but the heap of rocks that were piling up to a shape of something resembling two human figures kept holding it down stubbornly. On their foreheads, the exact same inscription was being engraved by flashes of silver; characters of a foreign language, [אמת]*, bled out like a name given to newborn.

Cutting the angry roar by a chuckle at first, Izaya raised his hand to reveal the silver strings that were attached to his slender, fragile-looking fingers as he waved them a bit; a silver ring glinted ominously on his middle finger. “I supposed this is your first time meeting golems, am I right~? They’re a mixed blessing, obedient but lacking in intelligence department but I take it you couldn’t care less about such information in a situation like this, which of course, I find it to be hilarious since I just want to let you know that you, too, are ironically lacking the same thing as them.” Izaya shrugged, intending to dismiss it as everyday casualness but the sharp edge of his smirk and the cruelty of his crimson gaze had emphasized the bite the mockery brought. “Joking aside, I’m in serious need of food right now. Do you mind?” With a twitch of his finger, the strings jerked all the way to the golems’ side.

“Do you know what vampire eats?”

They glowed unnaturally—silver light with a hint of blue—before flowing down graciously from the golems’ heads, shoulders, arms, and waists to encircle themselves on the infuriated wolf. Each end of the threads stopped and linked to the beast’s head. The second they were connected to the skin, the ends flashed out a bright, warm-looking spots of light which looked just like fairy lights on a Christmas tree, greedily consuming electricity. Except, it wasn’t electricity they were tasting.

“Well then, how do you feel about me?”

Momentarily closing his eyes, Izaya tilted his head back and inhaled deeply. There was a surge of heat rushing in which tasted so right and so delicious on his tongue; it was the kind of heat which was promising pain, violence, and aggression, yet he engulfed every sensation of it hungrily and greedily, ignoring the dull scorch placed on the tip of his tongue. It was like eating fire but with the taste of the finest meat, neither under nor overly cooked, because after all it was directed to him, the intense anger he was devouring. It was for him and only him. With every heavy swallow his throat worked on, the injuries he had healed faster, both internal and external. It was then when he opened both of his eyes that the crimson hue had shifted to the dangerous glow of scarlet as if the orbs themselves were living flames, born from a spark with soul. It was such a contrast to the dark of his hair and the pale of his skin, an alluring kind of danger. He dragged his tongue across his lips in one smooth, almost-sensual swipe and tilted his head to the side to look at the pinned beast, “What a rich flavor, you have my gratitude.”

Whether it was because of the golems holding it down or his provocation, Izaya wasn’t sure but the beast’s whole body trembled in what he assumed was wrath as it hung its head low and it kept growing and retracting its claws as if bracing for something. The philosopher’s stone must be reacting to the beast’s emotion somehow, because it granted him more power; along with the appearance of the golden threads, the beast’s figure was getting bigger started from the shoulders, back, limbs, and to the rest of his frame and Izaya had the feeling this new state wasn’t the last of Shizuo Heiwajima’s metamorphosis. He heard the sound of thunders in the distant, or maybe he just thought there was one because his ears were ringing from the roar of fury as the beast was knocking his golems down. They were immediately back up again but the beast’s strength was now on a different level. Its new form resembled more of a human this time, but with a much bigger and taller build than an ordinary human. Izaya tsked in annoyance at his own train of thoughts; to compare that thing to a human was really revolting. It might have the ability to walk with its two hind legs and the forelegs transformed into something resembled human’s hands. But those were the only things that were different from the first transformation, the rest of the parts were still pretty much fur and sharp claws and beastly looking.

Izaya rose to his feet and dusted off his pants; his lips jutted out into a pout at the sight of holes with different sizes decorated his favorite coat. Before him, the beast roughly shoved each one of his golems aside and, as soon as their eyes met, it let out an ear-breaking growl. He leaped out to one of the trees as the torture-promising claws hit the ground where Izaya was standing second ago, throwing a few of silver switchblades as an attempt to slow the beast down but it didn’t make much difference because they got sent to the ground almost immediately. It was as if they were paper planes hitting a tough wall instead of blades meeting skin, though they did leave scratches. With the new transformation, the beast’s movements became even faster, and in no time it knocked the tree down just like one would do when they shooed bees or mosquitos away. Izaya was almost tripping on one of the branches as he parkoured to another tree because of the shock; he was grateful of the good reflexes he was blessed with or else he would be lying down and fall prey to the monster. It was darker this time that the moon had disappeared behind the clouds and the thunders were passionately shaking the sky above. Meanwhile, the hunter and the hunted fell into monotonous chase of jumping, throwing knives, and knocking off trees. Just as they were getting used to each other’s improved speed, there were rumbling noises coming closer; Izaya’s smirk came out reflexively as the knowledge of what might be the cause appeared on his mind. “About time~”

If one thought that the explosion from two silver spheres earlier would just to distract Shizuo Heiwajima’s attention, then they certainly underestimated Izaya’s cunning nature. The rumbling came from all directions, caging and surrounding them with what seemed to be like a rush of steps belonged to a group of wildebeests. It wasn’t completely off the mark since dozens of animals that used to live in that forest immediately showed up—some of them dressed in only bones and some were still wearing rotten skin, dashing and attacking Shizuo in his new wolf form. It was not an easy job to summon dead animal, more so if it was in great numbers since they had no lingering attachment to this world. It took time and drained a lot of his energy, and since he was badly wounded earlier it became even more taxing. But Izaya was not one to give up on a difficult task, especially if he considered it important enough and worth dealing. He watched the battle unfolded with a satisfied grin and a glint of dark amazement in his completely-back-to-normal eyes since even with the numbers, it was still not enough to hold the beast down though it successfully reduced a bit of its speed boost. Its eyes were still locked with Izaya’s as it shoved a group of skeletons with so much force, and he would be lying if he said that level of concentration and twisted devotion didn’t give him shiver—no, not from fear, but from a mix of expectation and childish excitement. This is so much fun; the sincerity behind that thought came out instantly, more like a reflex than a product of contemplation.

The first droplets of rain started to fall as he went deeper into the mountain, followed not-so-closely by the beast that undeniably desired to break every bone in his body. He would occasionally look behind his back to throw sugar-coated insults and milk-flavored sarcasm to drive out more anger from the already furious beast. Anger, Izaya thought, was one of the factors that messed up the ability to think clearly, he just hoped this rule could be applied to animal too. On his mind, he was writing down possibilities onto his imaginary blueprint, matching the design with the little information he got; the ones he deemed impossible and far-fetched would be thrown away immediately. Izaya knew from getting into Electra—his familiar’s mind that there was a big river on the other side of that mountain, so maybe he should include that information into his plan. He huffed a laugh; making a perfect plan while getting chased could be his new specialty. He was technically enjoying it anyway, to the point he lost track of time, and by the time he reached the other side, the rain was pouring even heavier. It was a rather tough hurdle to deal with, especially when you had to climb down a cliff with 75° slope. The rocks and roots were wet from the rain, so it was a bit difficult to grasp, but with his nails growing out, he still could do just fine. Also, it seemed he was not the only one having a tough time there. Through the curtain of raindrops, he saw the beast were assaulted by a group of reanimated dead monkeys; they made it slip from time to time but not enough to make it fall since the beast had those long claws to depend on. It kept jumping sideways to where Izaya was while occasionally pulling (and crushing when he was at it) the annoying monkeys off of its head and back. “Babysitting monkeys while acting like one sure is an entertaining hobby for the likes of you, I see,” Izaya purred the last two words to produce fake innocence into his mockery as he, too, kept crawling sidewise to give more distance between them. A mix of growl and bark was given to him as the beast’s best respond at the moment and Izaya huffed out a chuckle at its futile attempt at making him shut up.

On his right side there were more big rocks protruded from the cliff wall, he noted, as well as plants and one big tree with solid-looking roots that unnaturally sprouting from one of the jutted-out rocks, and he could already see the big river from where he was hanging—which meant he was at a good distance to execute his plan. It seemed the heavy rain affected its current, making it heavier as it headed toward the north. That could be both good and bad, he smiled bitterly as he looked down to the dark shade of the water below, knowing one small miscalculation could put him in an uncomfortable situation. Izaya knew this was kind of a gamble, but it had the highest chance of victory, so he just had to go for it. Not to mention, flirting with danger seemed to be very appealing right at the moment. Stopping his crawling, he pulled his non-dominant hand to his side and just let more of his body weight to be supported only by his dominant one. The beast was still at a safe distance, so he immediately formed a bowl outline from his free hand and let silver strings flowed to the center of his palm, creating another sphere that seemed to float just above his skin. This time, though, silver was not the only color filling up the inside of that sphere. There were green threads crawling from the rocks he touched to his dominant hand, shoulders and then went directly to the silver sphere, taking place in the very center. He threw a glance at the beast that was trying to regain its balance from a little slip; the corner of his lips curled upward by itself into a more thoughtful expression rather than challenging with his eyebrows pointed down as he was considering his choices regarding of what would be good to be used as a push to ignite the right flames.

“My, look at you now,” he purred, jolting his shoulder into a casual shrug, “do you think with a form like this, you still consider yourself a human? What an absolute joke!” The tone rose with an impression of mania at the word ‘joke’, making the sphere on his palm have a jolt of brightness as if Izaya’s mood affected it directly. The glower the beast gave was a different kind of danger this time; its eyes darkened as the heavy growl escaped from the back of its throat and went out through gritted teeth. Its movements became faster and more stable as soon as it decided to ignore the monkeys, letting their bites and claws sunk into its skin without even showing any hint of pain. The beast’s focus was solely on Izaya as it wormed its way closer to where the necromancer was. “Have your parents never told you how much of a disappointment you are?” Izaya continued as more and more of silver and green accumulated in the sphere that had lots of small waves appearing on its surface; it looked so much like a bubble that almost burst. “Oh, right! How could I forgot! You’re all alone now, aren’t you?” The beast roared loudly, releasing the piled-up frustration-coated anger as it started jumping sideways again instead of crawling. It sparked goose bumps on his skin, and his heart rate increased from both panic and excitement, but he was grinning; Izaya didn’t even realize it himself, it was like an automatic reaction to the stimulus just by seeing the glory of anger he ignited from the beast. It is perfect. Only by that sound of wrath itself, Izaya was sure, Shizuo had woken up half of the forest inhabitants. Noises of fear came to his ears from the other side of the mountain, it strangely added glee to the unusual joy he was feeling right at the moment. “Your mother passed away because of boring illness, but your father,” Izaya’s grin was sharp, sharp and cruel and unforgiving; he knew a landmine as soon as he saw pain reflected in the beast’s eyes for a brief moment, and he knew immediately that it was a total victory as he delivered the final blow, “Your father, you killed him, didn’t you?” There was no longer growl or roar this time; using a powerful kick of his hind legs and the strong pull of its right arm, the beast launched itself toward Izaya. Still with a grin on his face, the necromancer immediately shoved the completed, yet unstable sphere at the surface of the cliff wall.

An explosion sent them both flying, but thanks to his previous position, Izaya didn’t get thrown off the cliff wall completely. His body still grazed the protruding rocks, and he kept trying to grip on something, be it rocks or plants, though the thing that broke his fall in the end was the tree that he spotted earlier. With both hands, he pulled the weight of his body to the sturdy-looking root of said tree. Intense pain flared up on his non-dominant arm that was previously used to deliver the explosion; Izaya clicked his tongue at the ache he felt and the condition of his arm which had severe burns from the tips of his fingers to the elbow. On the other hand, Shizuo, who was in a jumping state earlier was blown away, down to the dark river. At the last minute, Izaya had the chance to see the beast sunk into the depth of that black water with some rocks that were blown off of the cliff at the previous explosion, and with how strong the stream was, Shizuo probably ended up somewhere in the north part of the forest. He wouldn’t have to worry about having difficulties in finding the beast again, though. Because, he already sent some of his energy—the silver strings—to glue to Shizuo’s body using the force of the explosion. They could only be broken off if the other person used their sorcery—like Shizuo did earlier when he had that second transformation, but Izaya doubted the beast could pull it off something like that again. If Shizuo’s anger was the one feeding the philosopher’s stone, then a distraction when he was at the peak of his anger would break Shizuo’s concentration as well as the effect of the philosopher’s stone. Actually, he could have asked Celty for help since the beginning, but a good coordination needed discussion. It took more time, and also, there’s this and that which she’s better off not knowing—Izaya mused as he waited for his arm to completely heal. Besides, he wouldn’t want to be pestered 24/7 by Shinra because he put his beloved in danger. Even the mental image of that made him lose his motivation.

For now, I just have to find him again.

///

Finding Shizuo took another hour of exploring the north side. But it wasn’t so hard, saved for the cold and the bugs. He spotted the mop of messy blond hair leaning on a trunk under the drizzle. He had his human form back and kept his eyes shut; all the exhaustion seemed to crush him in one go and forced his muscles to sleep with overwhelming soreness to the point that he only greeted with “what do you fucking want with me?” with as much harshness as before but lacking the threat it used to carry when Izaya decided to show himself in front of him. The necromancer, almost as battered and exhausted as the werewolf was, brought a devious smile back as he studied Shizuo’s condition with an unreadable expression. Shizuo seemed to try to ignore his presence though, keeping his eyes shut still. But Izaya knew he was warier than before—who wouldn’t, with their enemy standing in front of them while they were in a vulnerable state. Only when Izaya opened his mouth to say “my, are you in pain~?” in a childish sing-song voice that Shizuo shot his eyes open; Izaya was a bit surprised that it was not anger that reflected from those mocha brown orbs, it was something else. It was something akin to recognition—a jolt of remembrance which gave Izaya a weird feeling like he was missing something. It was kind of uncomfortable, but since he refused to be seen as weak and confused, especially by his enemy, Izaya shoved that feeling aside. “Alright, let’s not beat around the bush. The dawn is coming nearer and I don’t fancy spending all night in a forest, so let me get straight to the point.” He decided to check his nails in the middle of the sentence to give off the vibe of being all casual.

Shizuo looked lost, having a dumbfounded look on his face which made Izaya want to snort out loud. “I have a proposal for you,” he said in finality, putting his hand on his waist as he stared confidently at Shizuo who looked like someone who just heard a bad joke. “Do you think I’m gonna be fucking obedient and hear you out after the shitty things you did?!” Shizuo spat those words with venom, glaring like he wished it would somehow make Izaya die a painful death. The necromancer burst into chuckles before giving Shizuo his condescending look. “Now, don’t take it too personal. I was merely ordered to weaken you and take you alive to the order,” he tilted his head to the side and continued, ignoring Shizuo’s ‘tsk’ at the mention of the Order of Merlin, “Which is strongly related to my proposal I’ve mentioned before. First, do you know what will happen to you if I leave you to them?” Receiving only a glare in return, Izaya went back to explaining. “You will be locked up in a dungeon and have various experiments to be tested on you since the order is very much obsessed with the infamous philosopher’s stone~! Maybe they even go as far as to try to kill you to see if you’re really immortal or not, or if the one in your body is the real philosopher’s stone or not. If it’s the real thing, maybe they would have you undergo a surgery to take the stone out! Ah, so scary~!” Izaya spread his arms open and showed his twisted glee in childish mannerism, while Shizuo seemed to be wanting to tear the necromancer apart so much for enjoying the cruel imagination of the situation Shizuo might or might not experience though he kind of believed some of the necromancer’s words. Izaya seemed to catch this from Shizuo’s wavering glare, that was why he dropped the offer again, “But if you accept my proposal, your safety will be guaranteed. Okay, that was the first benefit. I have three in total, you know. The second is you will have free lodging and free meals for as long as the contract exists.”

“It sounds shady as hell to me,” Shizuo furrowed his eyebrows; suspicion was plastered all over his face. Hearing that, Izaya chuckled in amusement. “How rude, and here I am trying to make a fair offer to you. All you have to do is… be my guard dog.” The look on Shizuo’s face was hilarious as soon as Izaya told him the most important part; eyes widened in shock as if he was a kid who just found out that his pudding got stolen. “HUH?! The fuck you’re saying?!” Shizuo snapped as angry veins popped up on his forehead. Izaya had both of his hands held his mouth and stomach, trying to hold in his laughter that came from seeing the blond’s comical expression. “Okay, that was so funny!” He managed to say between his laughter and received a shout “Die!” in response. Izaya’s shoulders were still shaking from the short giggles when he said, “I wasn’t even trying to kill you. It was only to weaken you, Shizuo. Please, do try to remember what people said, though it’s understandable that you would have a hard time with how small your brain is—“

“Fuck! Come here so I can bash your skull in!” Shizuo tried to move but to no avail; as soon as he sat up, his body fell back to the tree trunk almost immediately. Izaya snickered at that, giving a hint of purr as he calmly said, “You shouldn’t move around too much with that condition. At least try to hear me out until the end, will you? I believe I haven’t told you the third benefit of accepting my offer,” Izaya expected any kind of retort, but Shizuo just went to silently glare at him again; he probably realized there was not much he could do with his body being like that. A bit disappointed, Izaya continued with a smirk on his face, “Your little brother, I could help you to meet him.” Shizuo immediately widened his eyes; his jaw fell slack and Izaya could see both pain and a little hope in those mocha brown orbs. “Kasuka Heiwajima is the only family you have left, right? You wouldn’t have a chance to see him ever again if you’re locked up.” Izaya stated in a serious tone this time, and Shizuo seemed to lose his ability to speak as his whole body tensed at the mention of his little brother’s name; his shoulders hunched a bit as he balled his hands into fists. Izaya let the silence fell over them for a moment before he walked closer to where Shizuo froze in his sitting position and reached out a hand over to the tired werewolf whose harsh glare melted by a ray of hope.

“So… will you accept my offer?”

Chapter Text

It's interesting, Izaya mused as he observed the beast locked up in a cage; big black shopping bag in his hand and a new fur-trimmed coat enveloping his body like a warm cocoon, all buttoned up with its edge smoothly sweeping his knee level. The fur was beige this time, but Izaya thought it would still do as long as there was fur touching and tickling his neck. He would forever hold a grudge for his destroyed favorite coat; Izaya needed to make the beast regretted he ever existed later. Talking about that beast, the fact that he answered Izaya’s offer with “How would I know I could trust you” right before passing out had rubbed him the wrong way. And thinking about it almost made a frown bleed onto his expression, so he blinked out his distaste and fixed his signature smirk with cruelty so naturally shadowed over it. Scarlet eyes scanning and mocking a human figure with disheveled blond hair he so stubbornly called beast inside the cell. Oh, how it suits him. 

“Have a good day in there?” Mockery-dipped greeting rolled out casually in one breath. The beast, who got his eyes blindfolded and hands chained up to the ceiling twitched reflexively, clearly giving a sign he recognized Izaya’s voice. Or his taunt in particular. His clothes were torn here and there it didn't even look like a bartender uniform. In short, Shizuo Heiwajima looked like a mess, or better yet, a wounded monster. It filled his chest with satisfaction, and it only became better when he thought the beast knew he enjoyed the situation he was in. So, Izaya tried to drink on it for a while more, how Shizuo perfectly fitted in a cell with, instead of bars, a transparent wall with green letters—ancient spells, Izaya recognized—separated them. It was as if he was born to be in it. 

“Leave me alone,” Shizuo managed to say through gritted teeth, restrained anger apparent in every word. The blindfold made the glare lose its threatening effect, though, and it was equal to tiger losing its fangs. Izaya crossed his arms on his chest, and at the same time, putting his weight on his right leg. The smirk didn't fade one bit even as he said, “You clearly aren't bright enough—not that it's a surprise, or just too hopeful, to think I'll do as you say”. 

Shizuo let out something akin to a growl before hissing out, “What more do you want of me… you put me in here and now you're enjoying it, and then what!?”

Tilting his head, Izaya hummed to mimic a sincere consideration before answering, “Oh, who knows. Maybe I just like watching you suffer,” in a sugary tone. He heard Shizuo muttered “fuck you” in return and couldn't help the little amused chuckle as he shook his head. He took a few steps closer to the cell; eyes darting to Shizuo’s chest where the scar his switchblade left resided. His chest was tingling at the sight, from satisfaction? Joy? He wasn't sure either, but it was really, really pleasant to see a mark—his mark permanently embellished on the monster’s chest. His fingers twitched on their own, itching to touch, to trace the line of the scar, to feel his heartbeat beneath. “If you ask me nicely what I came here for, though, I’ll consider explaining,” he added but didn't really pay attention. Izaya merely said it to fill in the silence; his gaze still fell into a trance, following the shape of Shizuo’s scar. 

Shizuo tch-ed, throwing his head to the side and revealing perfectly-sculpted jaw. His throat tensed on silence anger and muffled violence as he decided to give Izaya silent treatment. Fair enough, the necromancer thought to himself. A cough could be heard from his right at that moment; a guard with black robe and white fox mask appeared on sight. 

“Sir?” Gruff voice came from beneath the mask. “Shall I… now?”

Sighing softly, Izaya gave a small nod in return as his gaze shifted back to Shizuo as if there was a magnetic field pulling it. “Well, it was fun while it lasted,” he smiled grimly, already mourning for the sight and his excitement upon seeing it. The guard reached for his magic, thread of glowing green resonating with the chains, turning them into a smoke before dissipating into thin air. The same went for Shizuo’s thick blindfold; the blond-haired man blinked a few times and shook his head as his eyes tried to adapt to the lighting. He looked so lost, eyes going back and forth between Izaya and the guard. Ironically looking like a puppy trying to choose its favorite human,except rather than favorite, he was probably considering who to bite to death first. And unsurprisingly, he decided to focus solely on Izaya. 

“What are you plotting this time?” He said in half-growl, brows furrowed to emphasize he didn't want to play any of Izaya’s game. “Haven't you had enough fighting me!?”

Izaya’s lips turned upward into a lopsided grin, “Relax,” and he gave another nod to the guard before adding, “And behave”. At the last word, his grin faded into a straight line as he looked at Shizuo straight in the eyes, making sure the unspoken ‘attack me and you'll end up in a far worse place for the rest of your life’ message get through to the blond-haired man. The guard let his energy flow through his fingers, and with a muttered spell and firm gesture from his hands, the transparent wall with green letters disappeared as if it was never there. Shizuo looked unsure for a moment before he decided standing like a statue inside would make him look more like a fool. And he wasn't in the mood to give Izaya the satisfaction to taunt and laugh at him again. Thus, he stepped outside of the cell and stood right in front of the necromancer who were still eyeing Shizuo like he wanted to dissect him. 

“Here,” Izaya shoved the shopping bag he had been carrying since he arrived onto Shizuo’s chest. And as expected, being the oaf he was, Shizuo only looked at him weird. “Your new clothes, do me a favor and go change,” he explained further; head tilted as he spoke to give off a vibe of vulnerability. A habit he still liked to display to provoke a certain reaction from his victim. 

For a moment, Shizuo’s mocha-brown eyes glued to his slender neck before he turned to meet Izaya’s scarlet ones. “What? Here?” 

Izaya gave him a dramatic eye-roll before turning to speak with the guard. “Thank you for your help, but I can manage from here on out,” and the guard looked at Shizuo, unsure, before yielding to Izaya’s words. He left them alone after a hesitant nod. 

“If it could be of little comfort to you, there's no one here to watch you naked now,” a playful smile swiftly unfurled, “no one but me. And unfortunately, you have to be the one turning around because I don't trust you with my back.”

“And why should I trust you with mine?” Shizuo demanded as he accepted the bag from Izaya’s hand. 

“Because, let me think… I’m your only ticket to get out of here and unless you want to waste more time until I decide you're not worth it and leave you down here for who knows how long, sure, do as you please,” he shrugged nonchalantly while giving Shizuo a challenging gaze. Shizuo cursed under his breath and walked backward, preparing to turn around, and all the while scowling at Izaya’s shit-eating grin. The necromancer only twirled his index finger in response, to sign for Shizuo to do as he was told, just like a trainer to their dog.

And then there was the halt as Shizuo seemed to have another plan. He walked back to where Izaya was until their chests almost touch, leaning down to show a mischievous grin of his own; sharp fangs glinted dangerously on the corner of his mouth. And when he whispered in a low tone, voice husky, it was so close Izaya could feel his breath. “Or how about no turning around? You can watch for all I care.”

The corner of Izaya’s eye twitched at the unspoken let’s-see-if-you-can-handle-seeing-me-naked dare; annoyance creeping up his spine as he held Shizuo’s gaze without blinking or wavering. Even if he was startled at the sudden change of mind, he didn't show it on his expression. “Oh, I didn't think you would be into exhibitionism,” venom-laced smile plastered confidently, “Guess, I must be underestimating you too much. But if you insist, I don't see why not.” His fingers itched to slide into his pocket, to feel the weight of his switchblade. How fun it would be to bring it to the beast’s throat and see how deep of a cut he could get. How interesting it could be to draw some blood, feel the heat of it on his fingertips, taste all that hatred on his tongue. 

Shizuo spat a “Fine” like it was fire, burning in passionate anger and hoping that alone could physically harm the necromancer. He proceeded to drop the shopping bag with a thud, all the while having a glaring contest with Izaya. And with the necromancer raising his brows as his mark, Shizuo yanked the tattered black vest not so gently, sliding it off his shoulders and to the floor of the dungeon. His no-longer-white shirt met the same fate; calloused hands undid two of the buttons that, for some magical reason, still stayed in place, and then pulled the shirt off with no care in mind as he made another hole on the material.

Izaya was still watching with lips pressed into a thin line on unreadable expression, but the weight of odd intensity and tension heavy on his gaze. Scarlet eyes followed the movement of Shizuo’s line of shoulders as he let it slide down; the lighting of the dungeon gleamed on the warm beige of skin, highlighting muscles underneath which flexed with impatient motions. Izaya could see the shadow of sternum on his chest along with the vague lines of his ribs. There were a few scars he could spot, could count, and could memorize the shape as well as the color, even. And for each one of it, Izaya felt a certain gravity to his fingers. One particular scar that was the closest to Shizuo’s heart, though, was the hardest to resist the pull. Especially when he was that close. If he would so much as to lift his hand a bit, he could physically touch it. 

“You,” Shizuo huffed just right before his throat swallowed some tension, making Izaya’s gaze teleported back to his face. “You made it seem like I’m the only one who need something from you.” Izaya raised his brows again, waiting and daring Shizuo to continue. He saw a frown made another appearance on the taller man’s face, and with the corner of his lips pulled downward a bit, Izaya thought Shizuo might as well slap a ‘in the middle of thinking’ label right on his forehead. Just that was enough to invite a sneer back on his own face. And like a chain reaction, Shizuo’s frown deepened with irritation crawling in his veins. The blond let out a breath, and after a heartbeat of pause, he added, “But, you also need something from me just as much. If not, you wouldn't be here, especially after knowing I haven't accepted your offer yet.”

The line of condescension on his sneer slowly lost its sharp edges as Izaya let another silence hang in the air for a moment. And then, came the, “So, you do have brain,” with tone as sharp as his switchblade. Shizuo kept looking at him with demand, unfazed by the insult this time. The necromancer slid his hands into his coat pockets, shrugging to display nonchalance as if Shizuo’s words didn't ruffle his feathers. “Well, it isn't something you need to know for now.” 

“Oh, but it is.” Shizuo grabbed Izaya’s arm and held it firmly as if it was going to help him making Izaya to come clean. “It's something I have to know if you want me to agree.”

“What would you do if I don't want to tell?” Izaya asked in return without missing a beat; eerie composure sipping in his tone. “Reject my offer and become an object of experiment for the Order? Prefer to be locked up here and not see the sun ever again?” He felt the heat radiating from where Shizuo had his grip on him, even through his layers of clothes. Felt Shizuo’s fingers digging bruises into his skin in a too-tight hold, but not yet on the level of bone-crushing strength. Felt the adrenaline bubbling up in preparation for the possible danger that comes in their close proximity. Felt goosebumps crawling up his spine as all kinds of warnings flashed in his head. And he saw Shizuo’s lips tensed upon hearing his words, thinking of a retort that would never come. Because Izaya’s next question was “And most importantly, giving up the chance to meet Kasuka?” 

There was a bit of a pause, a hesitation on Shizuo’s expression before he argued weakly, “I can always look for him on my own.” But his grip on Izaya’s arm weakened, his gaze wavered and unconvinced, and Izaya found a hole for persuasion to come through. 

He scoffed, letting his amusement visible for Shizuo to see. “Yeah? How many years do you think you have spent looking for him on your own? And how many more do you need until you're running out of time?” His voice clear and tone serious, offering fact like it was a blade tearing apart Shizuo’s hope. The blond-haired man gritted his teeth as he swallowed every thorny word. He opened his mouth for whatever petty, stupid retort he came up with, but Izaya beat him to it. “You can argue all you want, but do it in another time, and in a different place.” He lifted his fist and tapped it on Shizuo’s bare chest, right on the first scar he made; beige-colored fur adorning his cuff ghosted over Shizuo’s skin. A playful smile made its way to his face with a layer of teasing as he said, “For now though, how about finishing your bad striptease?”

It brought color to Shizuo’s face, because apparently, he didn't see it coming. “God, you are such an asshole,” he grumbled and immediately released his grip on the necromancer’s arm. Izaya huffed a laugh; his other hand coming up to place a palm over the area Shizuo had a hold of before, digging his nails as if wanting to scratch out the warmth that lingered on his skin and permeated all the way to his bones while uttering, “You should get used to it soon.” The tone dropped a bit at the end of his sentence, killing off the intended bite as soon as it escaped his mouth, but the smile playing on his face made up for it. 

If Shizuo noticed, he didn't point it out. He continued to glower at Izaya even while unzipping his pants which was also in poor condition. Then, he discarded it on top of his other shabby clothes, leaving him only with his briefs. They only broke eye contact when Shizuo bent over to check the content of the black shopping bag; fingers gripping on familiar rough material and pulling it out. Izaya breathed another laugh as Shizuo put on his slim-fit jeans rather ungracefully; almost toppled to the side when he lost his center of balance. And when he found it again, with one leg inside and the other still bare, he swung his hand to reach for Izaya’s head to stop the annoying high-pitched laughter. The necromancer dodged to the side with a grace even better than a cat, all the while chuckling in amusement. 

When Shizuo finished putting in his right leg inside, a frown came on sight again as he realized it was the perfect size for him. The material hugged his thighs, knees, and calves in gentle comfort, not too tight but also not loose either. He stared back at Izaya with suspicion swirling in his eyes and blurted the “How did you know my size?” with accusation of ‘stalker’ left unsaid. 

“Wouldn't you want to know?” Izaya returned it with another question in calm, but a hint of teasing still clear for Shizuo to pick up. He had his back glued to the wall, left leg on top of his right, and eyes lazily observing the jeans Shizuo had put on; a grin splitting his face as he intentionally neither deny nor confirm Shizuo’s unspoken accusation, letting the other man scowl in frustration when he didn't get the honesty he demanded. 

“Yes, that's why I'm asking, but you know what… Forget it!” Shizuo dismissed the idea of another argument, knowing Izaya wouldn't let him have his answers for the sake of pushing his button. So, he bent over again to pull another material—soft to the touch, this time, and warm—out of the bag and spread it with both hands to check, just in case the necromancer give him a weird clothing for petty prank. It was a black zip-up hoodie with a complicated-looking lapel neck and diagonal zipper. The design was good, he had to admit, even though Shizuo knew nothing about fashion and the likes. And when he tried it on, the garment felt comfortable—it emphasized the line of his waist without suffocating him, so Shizuo had no complain. 

“Why, do you think I would let you walk alongside me with animal onesie?” Izaya chirped in; head tilted as he seemed to appraise Shizuo’s appearance. He hummed in casual dismissal the moment ‘good enough’ came to mind. “The idea is interesting, indeed, but I gotta save it for later.” He ended it with a chuckle in contrast to Shizuo’s seemed-to-be permanent scowl. Pushing himself off the wall, he walked over to Shizuo who was in the middle of considering whether to put his discarded clothes inside the bag together with the rest of the new ones aside from those on his body. “Are you going to bring those too?” he asked the blond-haired man with half-grimace; tone unbelieving. Shizuo looked at him weird, as if Izaya just said some undecipherable joke before uttering, “We can't just leave them here” and deciding to just carry them with his other hand instead of putting them inside. It earned him another eye-roll from Izaya. “Whatever suits you best,” he muttered with half-formed displeasure, and then added, “Shall we?” with hand gestured toward a wooden door at the far right of Shizuo’s cell. He heard Shizuo hummed awkwardly in return and immediately put on his shit-eating grin as he added, “Is this the part where I say ‘let's hold hands’ or—”

“Don't push it,” Shizuo growled with warning in his tone, cutting Izaya off while glaring sideway at the little headache who still got the audacity to cackle. Fortunately, the necromancer said no more as he led them both to the door and to seemingly-endless stairs. Dull brick wall surrounded them as they headed upstairs in flat silence ; the only gloomy-dim lighting they had was from the torches that hanged on the wall, soulless fire coming to live one by one as both men passed them by as if to give them bored greeting. 

It was Shizuo who broke the silence first, shoving another question Izaya’s way, “Why did you bother picking clothes for me?” The necromancer threw him sideway glance; his lips forming a half-hearted grin without a motive of giving insult behind it. Izaya thought Shizuo asked him more out of boredom, though he could sense a little curiosity too despite the blond trying to mask it in a rather flat tone to mimic disinterest. “Let's just say my housemate would bug me to death if I wasn't being generous enough to the new guy.” Shizuo looked at him in widened eyes, seemingly surprised the necromancer didn't beat around the bush for once. He cleared his throat awkwardly; hand coming up to rub his nape while he asked again, more because he didn't know what else to say, “Housemate, huh?” to which Izaya nodded in confirmation. “Housemate,” He said without looking at Shizuo. 

“So, we’re going to… Uhh, your house?” This question, Izaya thought, was pure curiosity however much Shizuo wanted to make it casual; the rise of his tone when he said ‘your house’ was telling enough. So, he flashed a smirk, making sure Shizuo see it by turning his head a bit toward him. “Oh, I haven't told you?” He asked in false innocence; saccharine-like voice could pass as sincere if not for his expression. “You haven't,” He heard Shizuo answered for argument sake. Izaya chuckled lightly, feeling amused for something so trivial. “My bad.” Again with the pretense innocence, thrown casually as if he didn't intentionally crop out information. His grin didn't die down even under the intensity of Shizuo’s frown directed at him. Izaya almost could feel the “Why?” even before Shizuo let it slide off his lips, could feel another wave of amusement building up in his stomach. And then, he gave Shizuo his typical answer, “Do you have somewhere else you can go back to, then?” There came another silence right after that and it was as good as an affirmation, so Izaya let whatever it was he was about to say die on his tongue. 

They continued to walk in silence and were forced to swallow boredom as the end of stairs hadn't come into view yet. Izaya thought it was intentionally designed to prevent prisoners to escape by draining their stamina, so the guards could catch up and capture them with almost no fight back. Or maybe, it was made to break their hope to ever be able to escape first before knocking them down with exhaustion after that. Either way, it was a good thing both of them had good stamina and stubborn enough to continue without resting. He tried to remember a song, putting the melody in a hum just to have some entertainment as well as to annoy Shizuo, but the latter also served as boredom reliever so double the fun. Minutes passed and Shizuo still held his annoyance in; the effort was commendable, Izaya admitted. A bit irritating, though. Hence why, he decided to be the one starting a conversation this time. “Do you want to request a song?” Shizuo shot him a sideway glare even before he finished. “No, and shut up.” 

“Aww, but I’m bored,” He faked a pout, and then turned to look at Shizuo again, bravely meeting his glare and laughing inwardly at the annoyance in those caramel-colored eyes. “Will you entertain me, then,” there was an intentional pause and a smirk (Shizuo scowled at him in suspicion), and then he delivered the inevitable, “Shizu-chan.” The lilt of that sickeningly-sweet voice as Izaya dragged the syllables of that ridiculous nickname made a vein pop up on Shizuo’s temple. The result was immediate as Shizuo halted in his spot. “What did you just call me?” Izaya took a few stairs ahead before he gracefully turned around and looked down to where Shizuo stopped; hands sliding into his pockets to touch the handles of the switchblades as he stared at the embodiment of anger and violence. “Shizu-chan,” he repeated as requested, tasting the sweet of the nickname on his own tongue, “Cute, isn't it?” 

“Izaya.” Shizuo tried his warning; growl bubbling up in his throat as he saw the red in Izaya’s eyes. Red. Shizuo always saw red when he lost it. Always saw red when he started violence. Always saw red when he reached for his wolf to shower destruction. And the red in Izaya’s eyes was the same kind, but different altogether. “What's wrong, Shizu-chan? Are you that touched?” Izaya dared to say as if it was a game. But maybe that was all there was to it for him, a game. Provocative words offered like sweets, yet tasted like flame eating on Shizuo’s last straw of patience. The next thing they both knew, a game of chase had transpired with every mad dash they took, adrenaline-induced excitement acted as a fuel. It was as easy as falling into laughter, to lose themselves in this stress-relieving chase Izaya started. Exhilaration ran deep in their blood, taking hostage of their interest until Izaya’s manic joy on his expression spread to Shizuo’s own as anger was no longer the only thing boiling inside his chest. 

It kept going until another wooden door—bigger this time—came into sight, and Izaya, being the one in lead, slammed it open. The sound of wood hitting brick wall echoed in the hallway they got out to. There were people startled with their sudden arrival, stopping whatever they were doing to watch the ridiculous chase. Some even tried to stay away as both men came through with Izaya’s manic laughter as some sort of out-of-the-way siren. With every turn they took, the more the hallways were packed with people, and the better the interior design became. But, the crowd still didn't stop them. What really did was when Izaya slowed down to a stop when they entered an extravagant round hall with floor and big pillars made of marble; night sky with hundreds of sparkling stars displayed on the ceiling, and balls of some kind of fairy lights in all colors moving and flowing in a gentle dance mid-air—sometime, even coming down to follow busy philosophers who were coming in and out of the big arch top mirrors that lined up the wall. On each side of the mirror, there was a big round button with blue light on its edge; philosophers turned it around until the mirror showed them the exact places they wanted to teleport to. 

Without warning, a hand came up to seize Izaya’s chest and yanked it roughly until his body met another chest—broader and firmer than his. He spilled a muffled ‘oomf’ and let his eyes close involuntarily with the impact; though he expected it to happen, it didn't lessen the pain. The rough treatment continued as another hand grabbed his right one and twisted it to the back and the hand that previously on his chest moved to dip pressure on his slender neck Izaya was sure it would leave a handprint later. 

He could feel Shizuo’s face—his nose and lips—pressing against the back of his head, with Shizuo’s ragged breaths sending warmth through the strands of his hair. Goosebumps raised along his spine and to his nape, it felt so much like cold fire raiding his skin. And Shizuo’s hands on his neck and arm sent stabbing ache into his bones and throat, giving his body a threat of great discomfort Izaya predicted even before he stopped running. That level of pain was not so much as a danger, he thought, so he let Shizuo have it. Have the feeling of temporary victory over catching him because he knew it wouldn't last. Izaya felt ferocious grin pressing against his hair right before he touched the back of Shizuo’s hand that was seizing his neck. Silver threads flew out of his fingers, dancing and crawling onto Shizuo’s skin, carrying biting cold along as if to counter Shizuo’s body temperature that was naturally high. Anger was drawn from Shizuo, pouring deliciously into Izaya and spoiling his taste bud. Along with it, the pressure of Shizuo’s threat weakened until it became a harmless touch. 

“Behave, let's not make a scene here,” Izaya whispered, yet there was laughter in his tone. As if under the spell, Shizuo didn't make any move nor give out a sign he heard Izaya at all. There was a long inhale—along with the rise of Shizuo’s chest on his back which made the tension return on Izaya’s shoulders and his neck. Hence, when he uttered, “Shizu-chan?” it was with a little sense of urgency it got to the point where the teasing that came from the nickname itself almost fade away. And then the spell broke and Shizuo’s hold on him loosened, though he didn't let go of Izaya completely. His fingers still grasped onto Izaya’s coat but it was with a careful kind of act as if Shizuo was wary of something. And maybe even conscious. Of what Izaya was still trying to figure it out, even when he finally escaped from Shizuo’s hold and turned to look at the other man’s face. And yet, he found nothing. Weird was the first word that came into his mind as their eyes met. Shizuo’s expression wasn't unreadable, it was clear as the day he was confused. Partly because of what Izaya did earlier but mostly unknown. “Feeling constipated, Shizu-chan?” He raised a brow and put on a shit-eating grin to provoke any reaction. 

Shizuo blinked back whatever on his mind and then scowled as a reflex the moment his focus zoomed in on Izaya’s expression. “What did you do?” There was accusation in his question, yet no aggression despite the sharpness of his gaze. “Just now?” Izaya offered like he didn't know exactly what Shizuo meant, and he continued before Shizuo could even open his mouth, “‘Taking’ your anger.” Shizuo was silent for a moment; his brain tried to digest whether Izaya’s words were true or just a stupid joke. It was almost like looking at a child having an effort to digest whatever topic that was out of their grasp of understanding. To that, Izaya huffed a laugh and teased, “You look even stupider like that, Shizu-chan.” And he walked away just like that, leaving Shizuo dumbfounded still. 

He approached one of the mirrors and reached for the button next to it; he let his silver aura envelope the hand that made contact with the cold surface of the button, activating the teleportation system as the blue line on its edge glowed in acknowledgement. Shizuo caught up to where Izaya was in a couple of strides while cursing, realizing he lost a chance to make a retort and that people were stealing curious glances at them—even whispering to their colleagues and companions when Shizuo wasn't looking. Their reflexion in the mirror swirled like liquid being stirred with a spoon as Izaya turned the button—entering the location in his mind through his ‘force’—before completely fading away and revealed a sight of what seemed to be forest instead. Without any words to Shizuo, Izaya stepped inside the mirror; the surface gave way for Izaya’s body to get through it without any resistance as if the glass was suddenly turning into air. Shizuo blinked a few times, unsure if following Izaya was a good idea. Well, maybe not. Maybe it wasn't, but his life recently had been a series of bad decision, so it wasn't like he had anything more to lose. Shizuo pondered as he stared at Izaya on the other side—clearly waited for him with neutral expression, as if masking his displeasure or just wanting to be surprised. With a muttered “Oh, fuck it”, he decided to follow the necromancer with let's-get-this-over-with kind of steps and hoped he didn't start to regret it right after he reached the other side. 

Izaya cackled almost as soon as Shizuo got out of the gap between two big trees forming an arc that was connected to the mirror as a gate for a one-way trip, finding the state Shizuo was in worth the trouble because after all, teleportation was a torture in its own. “Shut up!” Shizuo told him as he leaned against a nearby tree, feeling his stomach churn. It felt even worse when hearing Izaya’s voice though. “Try not to throw up,” Izaya said between his cackles, making Shizuo want to throw things at him for real. For a moment, it looked like Izaya was about to go alone—turning on his heel and sauntered to the opposite direction. But then, he came up to one of the trees and made its big root that peeked out from beneath the ground as his seat; putting his left leg on top of his right one with a graceful manner and leaning his back on the trunk that was a lot wider than his line of shoulders. Izaya made it like he was sitting on elegant chair for a business-related meeting instead of a root full of moss, waiting for Shizuo to feel better as ridiculous as the idea sounded even to Shizuo himself. “What?” The necromancer confronted after realizing the weight of Shizuo’s eyes on him; his posture relaxed and expression stripped of his initial amusement from seeing Shizuo’s discomfort. 

“That… No, nothing,” Shizuo muttered, mildly annoyed at himself for being opposite of what eloquent means. “Anyway, you said something about ‘taking’ my anger.” Izaya frowned for a second before shrugging off whatever he was thinking; hands clasping each other on his knee. “Yes, I meant what I said. Though, it doesn't do much change for cases like animalistic rage,” He explained without shaping it into questions much to Shizuo’s surprise, but after carefully digesting it, it made so much sense as to why. The necromancer was referring to when they fought each other with Shizuo in his wolf form. The act was done before but it didn't dissipate Shizuo’s rage completely, just like an animal without a sense of reason. “You're such a pest,” Shizuo barked; hands balled into fists as a new wave of anger started to build up inside him. Izaya only laughed it off as if Shizuo didn't pose any real danger to him, and when he said, “You should be more creative than that,” it was with so much nonchalance, yet all the while carrying defense against Shizuo’s insult. “Now that you're energetic again, we should continue to walk,” Izaya immediately added to throw Shizuo off by reminding him they were not arrived yet at their destination which was Izaya’s house. 

They followed the footpath which almost got covered by how tall the grass was; the buzzing of bugs and sound of leaves waving because of the breeze never left them along the way. The crisp air felt pleasant to their skin and the smell of grass, trees, and soil helped calming Shizuo’s explosive temper. The atmosphere felt relaxing overall, with the chirping birds sometime passed them by and the sky looked so clear, the blue was so vibrant it reflected in Shizuo’s caramel-colored eyes when he looked up to suck in positive vibe because being stuck with Izaya for too long frustrated his nerves. As opposed to Shizuo’s relaxing mode, Izaya was still keeping his guard up; seemingly unfazed by the gift the forest generously provided. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Shizuo asked the necromancer anyway; suspicion infinitesimally crept up on the back of his head. Izaya gave him a sideway glance and a brisk smile, “Nothing. You wouldn't want to lose your focus here, trust me on that one.” His hands balled on the handles of his switchblades in his coat pocket; silver rings on his index fingers occasionally gave out small tinkling sound as Izaya stroked the cold surface of the handle. Then, he felt Shizuo’s frown directed at him; silently asking for him to elaborate more. “There are so maaany reasons why I chose to have a house here, Shizu-chan.” And he immediately heard Shizuo cursing under his breath, knowing the blond-haired man got the clue. “Safety should be everyone’s top priority, after all,” Izaya concluded with a light chuckle, leaving Shizuo with imagination of what could be hiding behind that forest, awaiting them to let their guard down. “But maybe, letting you get lost here would be fun,” Izaya’s crimson gaze started to light up with ideas, ranging from child-level pranks to cruel tricks, and only when Shizuo growled out “Izaya” with dagger in his eyes, he quickly added, “It was just a joke, a joke!” Though, there was no hint of apology in his tone. Shizuo massaged his temple, deciding to ignore Izaya’s mumble about him having no sense of humor. Just when the blond asked, “Is it still far?” Izaya went off the track when there was a dead tree just beside the path, and chirped “Nope! Why, tired already?” There was, of course, mockery, both on his expression and in his tone. But, Shizuo’s attention was on the dead tree; he looked at it weird and seemed like about to say something, but then it was either he thought it wasn't worth questioning or he had had enough of Izaya’s shitty answers. So, Shizuo proceeded to go out of the footpath like Izaya did. 

The deeper they explored, the harder it was to walk what with the grass growing too high and the branches were too many—some of them even blocked the path. The crowd of leaves were also getting more volume, making the light harder to breach through the roof of trees. They still had to hike for a while more Izaya wondered if Shizuo thought he had some kind of trap for him; his lips pressed together to hold back bubbles of laughter that wanted to burst out from the back of his throat. It was around fifteen minutes or so that they found a big rock on their way; the surface was actually smooth but dirty with dust and moss, yet Izaya approached it nonetheless. His right hand hovered over it after activating his aura so that silver light—consisted of prancing threads—was draping on it as if protecting Izaya’s skin from unknown danger. The necromancer examined it carefully with neutral expression; his gaze traced the shape of something invisible to Shizuo’s eyes. He then tapped his index finger at one spot; metal surface of his ring gleamed brightly, emphasized by Izaya’s aura. Izaya muttered something under his breath before dragging his finger to draw a pattern; the first stroke started from the left before going up and then down in sharp turn, followed by other two sharp edges and the finger went up again, down, making one last sharp turn, and returned to the first spot. As soon as Izaya lifted his finger off the rock, the meeting points he traced vomited out dark smoke as if the rock was bleeding from the cold bite of Izaya’s Force. The smoke slithered and entwined with each end like snakes, forming three interlocking triangles Izaya drew earlier. 

All of a sudden, balls of blue flame came to life before them; they hung mid-air and lined-up to make a path for the both of them. Izaya locked eyes with Shizuo for a second; silent invitation was clear on his expression before he turned with a swift motion and walked off following the line of blue flames. Shizuo caught up to him in no time, making sure to stay close to the necromancer just in case he planned on doing something tricky. The blue flames directed them toward a slippery slope which led to grassland waiting down ahead; Izaya, as expected, didn't seem to have many difficulties in choosing the safe spots for his feet to step on. Maybe it was either he had good intuition, was used to the path, or maybe both. Shizuo, on the contrary, took a longer time to walk down the slope; his hands clumsily reached out for branches to hold on. When they reached the grassland, Izaya moved to push aside the seven-feet grass to reveal the wall of illusion he made to hide his house; both of them stepped inside, greeted by a warm and more fresh air. Not only that, a beautiful meadow spread wide before them with a lot of wildflowers and butterflies scattered all over it. The grass which was actually hedgerows were closing behind them, leaving them inside with an isolated heaven. 

Lay further before them, Izaya’s house awaited. Timber frame cottage with open gable roof and white finishes gave out warm atmosphere, a stark contrast to its owner’s personality. In front, there was a green double door with big glass windows set right above it; two wooden pillars sat right at the entrance. Next to the cottage itself, there was a separated caretaker house with a chimney like the main house. And what made the house was even more breathtaking was that it had a small lake behind it; both Shizuo and Izaya could see patches of calm blue that didn't get hidden by the building. 

Clear baby blue sky hovered over the land like a blessing which added a beauty to that secluded area. It was calming, no sign of people (except maybe Izaya’s housemates who were inside the house), no noisy sound, just pleasant breeze, chirping birds, and buzzing of bugs. 

And then, Izaya huffed a chuckle. 

The pleasant feeling Shizuo had was reduced infinitesimally. Nevertheless, it didn't erase the whole calming vibe the place gave him. 

The necromancer hummed as if asking for the blond’s opinion; smug face looked over his own house before a satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

Shizuo was biting his lip, thinking of the words to express what he was feeling. His hand kept sliding in and out of his jeans pocket. Awkward mannerism was clear in his tiny gesture; if Izaya noticed, he chose not to comment on it. There was a little guilt for doubting Izaya, just a little though; his other hand came up to rub a soothing up and down motion on his neck, just below his jawline. The blond looked down to his right foot as if in deep consideration when in fact, awkwardness took over him and he was just trying to not feel that. His hand that previously rubbed his neck came up to scratch inexistent itch on the back of his head. Next to him, Izaya still waited for the compliment he deserved all the while; his smug face was ready to form a smirk. 

Shizuo then sighed, as if to admit defeat just this once. He looked at the house again and the meadow that surrounded it, surrounded them. However much he wanted to deny, the place gave him the peaceful feeling he had always wanted. So, he sucked a breath and said, “A house.”

It was all it took for Izaya’s smirk—arrogant, yet genuinely pleased—to unfurl. To him, it was more than enough of a compliment. And with a serene voice, he replied. 

“A house.”