It was an impulse decision really. That was what Heiwajima Shizuo told himself anyway as he walked up the stone steps of the facility. It was a choice made on a whim. It wasn't really thought out well at all. Shizuo, when rage and brute strength weren't involved, was not a person of impulse. He much rather preferred to think things through as calmly as possible, whenever possible. Granted, he wasn't offered very many of these types of situations, but relished them when given the opportunity. When it came to situations that didn't push his temper (or Izaya, which the two seemed to go hand in hand) Shizuo found himself to be able to think through things quite rationally. That is, if his short patience didn't get in the way.
That being said, Heiwajima Shizuo realized he wasn't all that great at thinking rationally. In his defense, he reminded himself that when it really counted, he could organize his thoughts well enough to pull through. Besides, most situations he found himself in involved more brawn than brains.
He stopped once reaching the top step. He took a long drag of his cigarette as he gazed through the plexiglass doors of the building. The hours and class times were printed in white letters at eye level, making them easily seen. Shizuo took another long drag of his cigarette as he tightly gripped the bag his other hand held. He asked himself what he was doing here. He didn't belong. There was no way this would help him. It was stupid of him to even think it would help. Actually, he thought as he took another drag in hopes to calm his nerves, it was all Tom's doing. Shizuo wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him.
It had started with a simple statement. Two simple statements really, both totally unrelated to one another. At the time, Shizuo could have cared less, but the more he thought about them, the more they bugged him. The first consisted of a "You seriously need a day off."
A day off. Shizuo scoffed at the thought. Even if he did take a day off from helping Tom, he didn't know what he'd do. Sit around in his apartment and do nothing? That sounded about right, Shizuo told himself bitterly.
He dropped his finished cigarette to the ground and stamped it out with his foot. Sighing, he placed his hands in his pockets after pulling back his sleeve and looking at his watch. It wasn't too late to back out now. He could turn around and forget the thought ever crossed his mind. He could forget he even considered doing something this stupid and no one would ever find out. Shizuo's eyebrows knit as he shook his head. No, no, he couldn't back down now. He'd never forgive himself he walked out now. After all, he'd left Ikebukuro to be here. Hell he was in Shinjuku, the place his rival was supposed to be. He'd hoped that no one here (other than that damnable Izaya, who he hoped he wouldn't run into) would know of his infamy. It would make all this so much easier. Sighing, the blonde ran a hand irritably through his hair as statement #2, as said by Tom, drifted into his mind.
"If you hate violence so much, maybe you should do something about that temper of yours. A little therapy or something might help calm you down." Tom had intended it as a joke. Shizuo knew this from the way he had laughed when he said it and the facetious tone he used. At the time, Shizuo shrugged it off as nothing more but a stupid idea. It wasn't until the thought continued to reoccur that he seriously began considering something of the sort. Maybe his raging temper and inhuman (it could even be described monstrous) strength could be tamed through something calming.
Shizuo sighed as he scratched the back of his head and stared up once more at the building in front of him. Why this of all places? He wasn't sure. As stated before, it was impulse.
He continued to look at the small building. It really was tiny. It was a one story brick building, modestly decorated with a few posters advertising what it had to offer inside. Just from the outside, it looked neat and orderly. The inside looked just as clean. Not a speck of dirt seemed to soil the baby blue tile floors Shizuo could see from where he was standing. He bet the whole place smelled of bleach and cleaner.
He knew he didn't have much more time to idly stand outside. He was already a few minutes late as is. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure there was no one around who may have known him. Gripping the bag in his hands like the man he was, he stepped forward and pushed open the doors. It was now or never.
The one thing Orihara Izaya loved most was messing with people. Anyone who had heard the name 'Orihara Izaya' before knew this. He was the sociopathic information broker with some serious issues. The only man able to mess with the monster Heiwajima Shizuo and survive. He was a legend, and he loved it. The endless opportunities of screwing with people never left him bored. There was always something to do, always another game to play. When one game got boring, he'd move onto another. Whatever fancied his interests, that's what he'd go for.
The last game he'd played had gotten boring fast. The overconfidence of the people he screwed with made him sick. They were worthless. They had nothing to be proud of, nothing to flaunt. It didn't take much to break them down. Izaya found himself disappointed at how easily they broke. It was time to move on.
He decided to center his attention to a place in Shinjuku. He eyed the poster plastered on the walls of a small brick building "Help Wanted". He shifted his weight to one side as he carefully considered every aspect of what this game would bring. Izaya was a thinker. He loved thinking through every option of every situation. He wanted to make sure he always took the best approach so his game had the most enjoyable outcome possible. He watched as a young girl walked inside the entrance to the building, dressed in gym pants and pink exercise shirt. He looked back at the sign, not even trying to fight the malicious smirk that rose to his lips. He turned on his heels, hands placed in his jacket pockets as he skipped towards the entrance. This would entertain him long enough until he came up with something better to do.
And so, a mere week later, his new game began. He was grinning ear to ear as all of his new 'students' walked into class. They all seemed to be middle-aged women or college girls. Already they were talking and gossiping amongst themselves, some stealing embarrassed glances his way. He wanted to scoff at their ignorance. They had no idea they were all about to become his new play things.
Women were so easy to break down. Their wavering self-esteem issues and poorly worn masks made them fun to screw with. He could almost guarantee every person here had some kind of self-esteem issue he could milk til they were on the ground, begging for him to stop. The breaking point of people...they were so interesting when they hit that stage. Izaya smirked as people continued to file in. More had shown than he thought. More game pieces for the chess board. Izaya's smile grew wider. As the hour hand of the clock hit 2 Izaya straightened up and walked to the front of the class.
"Hello, everyone. I am your new instructor-"
He was abruptly cut off much to his annoyance when one last person came bustling in this door. After seeing who it was, Izaya's annoyance melted into a numbing shock. Another grin rose to his face, this time a genuine grin. One scary enough to make a little girl cry. Things were about it get very interesting. The rest of the class, who were seated on the floor already, turned their heads towards the man who had just walked in. He was staring at the ground, until their 'instructor' began talking.
"Welcome, Shizu-chan, to my yoga class. I believe you're a bit late."
The blonde's head whipped up in the direction of Izaya's voice. He saw red. Of course, at that very moment, Shizuo did what every rational thinker did.
He let instinct take over and rose hell.
A/N: I think this was more of a (tab bit boring) prologue than a chapter, introducing everything and so on. Review and tell me if such a silly plot bunny is worth continuing? XD