When the Monsters Play

By Curiosity Killed Kristy

Author's Note: I wanted a fic where it showed these two developing their hate all the way back to when they were babies. Not just from when they were in high school. A lot of shit is different on here, so I guess this is an AU, lol.

"Shizu-chan, let's play."

He had hated the raven-haired swindler from day one. His parents thought the flea was 'smart' and 'polite' but Shizuo had never seen that side of him, ever since they met when they were seven. Namely everyone he knew since birth had fallen for this louse's lies, including his brother, Kasuka.

They'd have the flea's family over for dinner at least once a week, and everyone around him would exchange conversations and smiles, and he'd be the only one left out of the bunch. His parents would seat him exactly one seat away from the spawn of the devil itself, and that damn flea would smile ever so innocently while his parents hung around. Then once they were far and away, Izaya would steal his pudding whenever he wasn't looking, poke him incessantly beneath the table, or even kick him if he felt daring- little, childish things that nearly caused Shizuo to see red.

The flea was at his antics again, asking him if they could 'play.' Knowing him, the flea would probably just kick dirt in his face and act like the wind blew it. But since they were both at school, Shizuo didn't have to be nice. His parents weren't around to goad him into forming a friendship. "No," he had simply put it, knocking the two colorful trucks in his puny fingers together.

Izaya's smile grew wider. "Shizu-chan, let's plaaaay," he drawled, plopping himself beside the brunet and digging his fingers underneath the sand.

"Go bother someone else, you flea," Shizuo growled out, scooting himself a few distances off. Shizuo continued to play with the toys he held, trying to flush the flea's voice from out of his head to concentrate on the scenario he was playing out. Think about the cars, Shizuo. Car one's driving onto the lane, when Car two-

"Shizu-chan, if you don't play with me, I'm gonna tell everyone your big secret." This effectively stopped Shizuo's running script, the seven-year old feeling goose flesh sprout on his arms and legs. What secret? He swallowed, and bunched his eyebrows together; tried to make the ugliest grimace he could muster.

"I don't care," he hissed out, spinning around to rid his eyes of the unyielding, crimson-eyed mastermind. After all, the only thing Shizuo ever had to hide was that he still slept with a teddy bear. The flea couldn't possibly know about it. When the continuous pestering of his irritating nemesis stopped, he thought that had been the end of it. Now, back to the cars. Car two wants to speed-chase a taco truck-

"Everyone, guess what?" Izaya began with his two pale hands cupped around a puny mouth. "Shizu-chan still sleeps with-" he nearly ended until Shizuo intervened and wrapped a hand around his mouth. He felt his head steam with immensity- either from embarrassment or furiousness, he didn't know- when he felt one too many eyes trained onto him. Teachers steered their eyes for a momentary second, confusion set in their brows.

Seeing how the two children were merely at their usual antics, the adults shifted their attentions back to the other boisterous, vigor-filled brats, playing their classmates into fast-forward.

When Shizuo was sure that the students had returned to chasing after each other, hiding from friends, making sand castles, and being just all-around pests, he couldn't have released Izaya from his clutches fast enough. "Get lost, you louse, or else." Shizuo shook with intensity, his hands balled into fists and nails nearly digging into skin.

Izaya merely snickered at the display. "I just wanted to show you I wasn't kidding. Really, Shizu-chan, you should know better than to underestimate me," Izaya laughed, picking up and examining one of his many, plastic cars.

"Don't say things I don't understand…" Shizuo snarled between clenched teeth, feeling a sudden urge to hurt someone. To hurl something.

Izaya laughed again. "Come on, Shizu-chan, play with me!" Izaya commenced again, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"…Shut up."

"Play with me…" Izaya continued, prancing around his quivering and hunched form.

"…Quit it!"

"Play. With. Me. Shi-zu-chan," Izaya mocked, leaning into one ear and smiling. "…Or else."

Everything had blurred the lines of reality.

In a blink of an eye, Shizuo had snatched his prized toy car from Izaya's hands, stomping it to the ground. The fragile toy snapped in half. Shizuo's bones and muscles drove him towards the slide, charged by an unknown electrical source, and in one guttural, instinctual movement, the slide was lifted from its bolted placement.

Frightful cries surrounded him, dashing children and panicking teachers to and fro, and out of everyone- only ever the exception- Izaya stood, unshaken and smiling that devious smile Shizuo oh-so-loathed. Shizuo was given the special privilege of seeing surprise pass the child's face when he had lifted the slide, but it was immediately replaced with the conniving, unperturbed expression his rival always wore. As if seeing a seven-year old lift a metal slide was something he saw every day.

He had enough of this brat. He just wanted him gone, he thought angrily, and shifting the slide to have it better situated in his hands, he reeled it back with the plan of bringing it down.

He heard the first crack pop in his left hand, then the second on his right. Shizuo screeched at the suddenness, the slide falling merely two inches from the raven's feet.

It was complete and utter silence.

His teachers and classmates stared in disbelief, cementing him to the ground. Shizuo could still feel his veins throb with the desire to kill, yet at the same time, he felt the throbbing of hurt in both arms. As two teachers picked him from the ground and led him away, as children separated to give them room to walk, his eyes remained on the boy who was unfazed by it all.

About the toy car, about the slide, and about him.


They spoke about things like 'avulsion fracture' or 'suspension' or 'counseling,' but it never really made any sense to him, nor did he care to find out what he it meant. He was only able to stare at white walls, white sheets, the two puke-green casts on his arms, and the shades that never really allowed sunlight to permeate the room.

Every now and then, he would be able to hear his parents conversing with some councilmen from his school or doctors that smelled of rubbing alcohol, and even when he grew tired of their restless mumbling and irritating attempts of inconspicuous chatter, his arms couldn't block their words no matter how much he willed them to.

It was all that flea's fault, he'd always chant beneath his breath, and sometimes, when his mother was around, feeding him or otherwise just taking up space in the room, he'd say it a bit too loudly. His mother would whirl at him, stare at him with eyes that threatened of confiscating his only source of entertainment- the T.V. that was- and then scold him nonstop about the subject he most definitely did not want to talk about, and of course, it was the louse himself.

"Izaya-kun is a very nice boy," she would emphasize. "He always wants to play with you, but you push him away. Why are you like this!" she would speak with vehemence.

Back then, he would always say, "But Mom, it's not me, it's Izaya!" but he knew they would never believe him.

Today, her words were different. They all meshed together in that colorful, bursting way of hers, but still, it was different. "Well, you'll be glad to hear this then, Shizuo," she began. "Izaya's family is moving next week, and you will never see him again. Are you happy now?" she had asked.

He had only bowed his head, because if he showed how he really felt, he'd most likely get the T.V. turned off.


It was during his eighth grade year that everything spiraled out of control.

The past five years had been uneventful- at least, that was what he wanted to say. Ever since lifting that metal slide, whenever he'd snap under pressure or anger, he'd heft an unnamable, bulky appliance, destroying other unnamable, bulky appliances. Eventually, word flew around about his massive feats, and gangs from all around town came to challenge him and best him in the game of strength.

But in the end, he'd always won out, getting suspended in the process. It wasn't his fault that it always came out looking as if he provoked them.

He even dyed his hair to keep their whiffs off his tail. And it had been working for a while, until this very day.

"Class, meet Izaya Orihara-kun. He transferred here from Russia not too long ago, and he is finally getting settled in. Please be kind to him for the duration of his time here," his teacher had gone on, but her words only entered through one ear and out the other.

He had been staring at the passive clouds, watching the trees sway about beyond the window he sat behind. He didn't exactly know why, but he'd been feeling this foreboding feeling in his system for nearly a week. And something told him that today the clouds weren't going to be as passive as they looked now.

He furrowed his brows at that. From where he sat, he heard his teacher drone about a subject he didn't care to listen to, little instances such as, "Hijikata Toshizo led the…" and then the rest he zoned out on. Only when the bell rang did he resume breathing. He hefted his bag over his shoulder, making for the door. When he heard the first crack of thunder behind him, he knew he should've listened to the weather forecast.

Students rushed about him, almost as if a mob, a sea of blue and white rushing around him to burst out the school doors before being pelted to death by raindrops. When most of his fellow pupil had cleared out at the shoe lockers, and he had already fastened the straps on his shoes, he realized that he forgot to bring the most vital component of his homework- the workbook.

He sighed to himself, already feeling irritation swell in his knuckles and tear through his muscles. And back to the stairs he once again traipsed through, hearing the eerie echo of his own feet and the pencils jiggle around in his bag. When he slid the door with a more than irritated exhale, he was shocked to hear the rain bombard outside, coloring the sky a dark gray with the occasional flash of yellow in his periphery. In that iridescent yellow, two crimson eyes stared at him through the darkness.

At first, he had thought it to be an apparition, but when the shadowy figure emerged from his inky corner of darkness and the pale skin began to peak through, he came to realize that this was indeed a person. He glanced at the purple, dangling book in the stranger's hand. "I believe you forgot this," the stranger spoke.

Shizuo found an immediate aversion to the stranger's tone. It was saccharine. Nauseatingly sweet. "Yeah," he agreed, lending his hand out for the book to be passed over. The stranger extended his hand out, book in hand, but as it hung there between them, for what Shizuo would surmise to be five deafening seconds, a smirk began to emerge on the pale male's face. His hand retreated, hiding the book behind his back.

Shizuo's frown grew deeper with suspicion.

"For a second there, your awful dye job almost fooled me," that sickly sweet voice said. "Did you really think it would change anything? How pathetic," he jeered.

Shizuo growled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The stranger outright laughed at his obliviousness, leaning against the nearest desk to keep himself in balance. "You mean you don't remember?" the individual smiled, cocking his head to the side with a maniacal grin on his face. "Well, I guess it's my own fault. I expected more from you without taking your forgetfulness into account," he sighed heavily, feigning dejection.

The blonde grinded his teeth. "If you keep talking bullshit like that, I won't be responsible for what happens to that mouth of yours," he warned, feeling his veins surging to life.

"Haaah, but it's unfair," the other continued. "All these years, I've remembered your repulsive face"-he jumped onto a desk, hopping over to the next one as if stones on a riverbed-"and how you lifted that metal slide, planning to end my wonderful days of living, while you on the other hand forgot about mine."

In that instant, the foreigner didn't seem so foreign anymore.

As they both stared at each other, one with bewilderment and the other with too much amusement to be considered normal, Shizuo's mind reeled back to replay those horrid memories of being held at a hospital for nearly a month, the endless chatter of adults and the one who caused it all.

"Play with me, Shi-zu-chan," the raven slowed deliberately, balancing on one foot and leaning above Shizuo's head. When Shizuo's eyes widened in realization, he smirked, lowering himself upon the desk, and bringing their faces closer. "I wanted to see the face you made when I told you that," he whispered cruelly into his ear.

Shizuo heard something crack- either his knuckles, the desk he stood next to, or the thunder beyond the rain and wind. Really, it made no difference to him.

He could already feel the blood in his veins boiling, singeing everything that surrounded it- his bones, tissues, arteries; it was all rushing to one place and that was his fist. When that same conniving, omniscient smirk spread like butter on the pale teenager's lips, that same smile that caused his parents to doubt him, the same smile that tore his ligaments and tendons as well as bones, the same one that awakened a monster inside him, the world grew eerily silent.

The thunder was muted, and the lightning nothing but a black, ragged pole in the sky. His muscles commanded his very movements, demanding that he crush the chairs, and that he lift the desks in his way.

Anything to obliterate this man.

As the desk he held aimed for his enemy's throat, he could hear it slicing through the air; could hear the desperate cry from his chest.

Then, he heard the rain again.

He felt the first few stings blossom on his stomach, stretching all the way to his ribcage, at first bearable, but as he stayed rooted to his spot, he found it was growing more difficult to breathe. He looked at his shirt, slowly painting with blood.

The crafty raven smiled, retracting his switchblade from Shizuo's chest, licking up the trail of blood staining the knife. Shizuo growled, the desk falling from his grasps, his hands immediately pawing at the slash he was inflicted with. "Y-you bastard!" he roared, feeling the pain spread throughout his abdomen. He could feel the deep, blunt wound carved into his skin, and the more he thought of who did it, the more he wanted to rip his own skin off. His fist's immediate destination was the raven's face.

His target ducked and darted underneath his arm, causing him to stumble from the intended force. He nearly careened into a group of desks, but quickly righted himself. He whirled around to face the smiley, red-eyed demon, said demon giggling from god knew what. "I see that you still have that ridiculous, monstrous strength, as well as the pea brain to operate it," he observed, shrugging his shoulders in disappointment. "But, again, I didn't expect more or less. It was great seeing you again, Shizu-chan. It was an immense pleasure…" he trailed off, twirling to the door, and sliding it shut so that his eyes were the only thing the blonde could make out. "…Just kidding," he whispered with a wink.

Shizuo bristled, and as if the Izaya himself commanded it, he raced to the door, ripping it from its separate counterpart. He glared down the path he assumed that his nemesis took, only to be met with nothing but pitch darkness and the occasional flash of lightning. He bit his lip, hearing his knuckles crack. With his chest puffed up, and the veins in his wrists straining against their confines, with all the strength he could muster, he wrenched out the most guttural cry in his life, and that one word was "Izaya."


His life had veered for the worse. Ever since the flea had returned, he couldn't sit still anymore. Just knowing that they were four desks away from tearing each others' throats out left him uneasy, yet at the same time expectant. When that eventful fight did come, it was as chaotic as the last one, involving flying desks and swinging pocket knives. It had grown so bad that the teachers caught wind of it, as well as the students, the neighbors, and eventually, the gangs.

This had gone on for a few months. Even when parents and teachers intervened, something always, always, had to reverse the hands of the clock, and they were back to severing limbs from the other. Either it was from a trajectory glance, little, scheming smirks, or indirect remarks, everything about Izaya ticked Shizuo off.

There was something wrong about him, he would always think before going to bed. Every time the sinister raven-head glanced his way, or touched him with the cold sliver of his knife, Shizuo felt this unnamable queasiness. He felt possessed, he realized. As if the very being of Izaya alone wanted to seize his every movement.

On the third month, he finally witnessed why this feeling had ever birthed itself within him.

Shizuo had been on his usual rampage, his sole purpose to omit Izaya's existence from this world. He was throwing punches, jabbing at nothing but air, throwing trashcans here and there, and shoving anything else in his way.

It had been the same… until this very day, hour and minute.

He didn't exactly know how, and he didn't exactly know why.

"Girls must be scared of you, Shizu-chan. You've probably never done anything like this or that before."

He had drawn a blank after that statement had been made. He vaguely remembered countering those words with his fists, but in the end, Izaya had him playing into his very own game like a pawn.

He could hear soft exhales and rapid breaths echo in the bathroom; could hear his belt buckle scraping the floor with every tremor that racked his body.

Izaya knelt between his legs, bobbing up and down his length, humming and moaning around him. He steered his eyes away, knowing how the flea's eyes were solely on him, watching his every expression, and trying to coax out the ones he wanted.

The blonde attempted to still himself, to stop his legs from their constant quaking; his lips from muttering anything he might regret.

But the flea was too good.

He chastised himself for even thinking it. Izaya continued to suckle on him, only stopping at his head every now and then to slather him with more spit, before swooping back in with more exaggerated moans.

He held onto anything that was available in his reach; anything to avoid feeling such shame and pleasure. He threw his head back against the toilet seat, feeling his release approaching and Izaya's hollowed cheeks growing even tighter and swallowing him even faster.

He could feel his ears singing with blood, and could hear the sloppiness of Izaya's work as well as his constant, desperate breathing. When he felt himself sully his rival's face, felt how the teen swiped his tongue over his head for one last taste, he felt as if the biggest fool in the world.

"How does it feel?" Izaya laughed. "How does it feel to be loved by the person you hate?"

After that, Izaya was switched to a different class. He avoided him throughout the rest of middle school, never glancing his way once.


It was on March 14 of his junior year that he found chocolate stashed in his desk, a dangling note attached delicately on the plastic wrap.

He remembered how surprised he was to find something like chocolate being gifted to him by a secret admirer. He wasn't particularly popular with the ladies.

Meet me behind the gym at the end of school, please, the note read. He glanced around the classroom, searching for any peering eyes, but he couldn't make out any who were staring his way. All he could see were babbling teenagers, squealing and giggling over the most trivial things, male and female alike.

He realized yet again how far apart he was from the rest of them, feeling a sense of unusual loneliness surround him. He looked at the note again.

Maybe if I meet with this person, I'll finally experience being a real teenager, he thought hopefully. He decided then that he would meet this girl. When he heard the last bell ring out throughout the school, he clutched the note in his right hand, and tucked the boxed chocolates in his bag with the left.

A sea of blue formed around him as each student eagerly raced past, holding hands with their beloveds, dashing to close friends, and conversing unintelligibly.

Soon, he thought, soon I'll be like one of them.

He trudged to where the gym was, feeling excitement and anxiety well where his heart was, fighting the urge to clutch at his throbbing chest. The note nearly ripped from such constriction, as he slowly curved the corner of the building. From where he stood, he could hear the rustle of movement and clothes.

He peered around the jutting wall, and at the first signs of two individuals standing there, he hesitated, and hid himself instantly. He felt his heart patter even harder. Just to confirm that what he saw was real, he flicked his eyes over at the two teenagers, his heart freezing in his chest.

"But, someone might see us," the girl whispered.

"Don't worry." That exact moment, the male flicked his ruby eyes Shizuo's way, and closed in on her face, until their lips were touching. Shizuo clenched his fists, knowing that the whites of his knuckles were showing, and that the note he had been holding on to was crumpled and unreadable.

The blonde took off in the opposite direction, digging the pack of chocolates out of his bag, and growing more frustrated that he couldn't find it. So irritated he was, that he yanked the bag from his shoulders and chucked the entire thing into a trash can, the trash can dipping to the side.

No matter how many times he ripped the note in half, he couldn't erase the victorious smirk on that flea's face. Fooled ya, it said.


He could feel the Sun beating down on him even from under the shade of the awning. It flapped endlessly above him, the wind coaxing out the most intricate shapes.

Today was his last day as a senior, and he found that he wasn't particularly upset about that. Memories of his high school days weren't special, and he doubted they ever would be.

He planned to move away from this town; to see the world, like his brother, Kasuka. When he first heard his brother was planning to become a movie star, he didn't really know what to make of it. But then, there his little brother was, living the dream and traveling to all kinds of places- places he could never reach even in a billion years.

He'd shaved off eighteen years of his life, stuck in this hell-hole town, accomplishing absolutely nothing but the title of 'the strongest man in Ikebukoro.' In the end, he received no awards but his high school diploma; no trophies to display, no pictures taken with buddies or girlfriends, and no job or volunteering to speak of. He achieved nothing.

His ear perked up at the sound of the door hinges screeching, but he ignored it to the best of his abilities. When that familiar, plotting snicker graced him, he launched himself from his laying stupor, eyes bewildered and fists blazing.

"Izaya!" he growled vehemently, striding to where he was leaning against the wired fence.

"Calm down, Shizu-chan. I'm not here to cause a fuss. I just needed a breather, that's all." Shizuo froze in his tracks, replaying the words in his head, and hating how smooth it all was. Izaya laughed again. "What's with that face? You seem puzzled, Shizu-chan."

The blonde remained silent. Izaya harrumphed.

"You don't believe me," Izaya smiled. Something about it seemed off to Shizuo, but he ignored it.

"You only show up when you want trouble, so there's no reason for me to believe you one second." Shizuo cracked his knuckles, hearing the violent pop of each one. "If you don't want your face disfigured, I suggest you leave," he warned imminently.

Izaya shrugged. "I only came here to tell you that you won't be seeing much of me," he smirked. "As much as it pains me. Buuuuut…"

Shizuo raised an eyebrow at that, seeing the smile on the flea's face widen. Before he could dodge the attack, he felt an all-too-recognizable hiss of pain on his chest, and as the switchblade left his skin, he could already see the first stains of red dot the edges of the cut.

Izaya trotted back, cocking his head to the side, as if assessing whether it was deep enough or not.

"Since I'll never forget about your unsightly face, I won't let you forget who made that mark on your chest. An eye for an eye… right Shizu-chan?" he drawled.

Before Shizuo could retaliate, and before he could cause any bodily harm, Izaya had slinked off to God knew where, laughing and laughing.

"Don't miss me too much, okay, Shizu-chan?"


"So… what you're telling me is that you don't have the money?" Shizuo snarled, his legs already launching him towards a nearby vending machine. The man quivered and begged with his eyes, but Shizuo was already far gone. The vending machine was lifted from its spot, and before his boss, Tom Tainaka, could stop him, he was already on his next rampage, chasing another late-paying imbecile around Ikebukuro.

Tom sighed, rubbing at the wrinkles on his forehead. There goes another five-hundred dollars, he thought tiredly.

Shizuo had been hired for nearly six years as Tom's bodyguard, and the job had just somehow stuck. His previous jobs hadn't gone as planned, each one ending in failure due to his short-fused temper and incredible strength.

After the man coughed up what little money he had in his pockets, Tom led Shizuo away from the mess, patting the blonde on the back as he did. "Come on, let's go."

Shizuo sighed, reaching for his pack of smokes, and lighting one up. "Sorry. I know the bank's gonna have to pay again," he apologized.

"Don't worry about it. What's done is done," Tom disregarded with a wave of his hand. Shizuo felt the smoke slither down his throat, feeling parts of him beginning to relax. As he and Tom meandered their way through Ikebukuro's alleys, he couldn't help but feel someone watching him.

He stopped to momentarily glance at a nearby building, hearing Tom's words enter and exit from his ears, but not quite discerning what they were. He saw a flash of black somewhere on the roof, but it was gone as fast as it came.


Shizuo sighed. Another day, another dollar, the saying went. But to him, it was more like another day, another pain in the ass. He traipsed through the outskirts of Ikebukuro, aimlessly wandering to cool his head. There were only so many idiots he could take in one day.

He chucked the fried cigarette from his lips, extinguishing the fire with his foot and hearing it hiss from yesterday's rain. Speaking of rain, he thought, steering his eyes toward the sky.

"Damn," he muttered, seeing how gray the sky was. "Guess I'd better head back." He scratched at his hair, regretting that he didn't pay attention to it sooner. As he walked the way he came, he kicked the rubble beneath his feet, when again he felt the strange feeling that he wasn't quite alone.

He stole a glance behind him, yet nothing but the wind greeted him.

"You're looking the wrong way, you know."

He jolted from the sudden voice, whirring around to try and pinpoint where the random individual was. Again, there was no one.

The anonymous male chuckled, Shizuo's ears picking it up but his eyes picking up nothing. "Over here," the voice instructed and he did as it told. Immediately, he felt regret wash over his entire being.

"Well that took you long enough." The man smiled, pushing himself from the adjacent, brick wall and stepping away from the shadows. "Doesn't this feel nostalgic?"

Shizuo squinted through the glare of the Sun, baring his fists and feeling the rumble of anger already simmering in his chest. Even his sunglasses weren't helping. He took a step closer, but even then, all he could make out was the black of the man's clothes.

"Really now, Shizu-chan, this is getting pretty old." Shizuo stilled instantly, the ring of that despicable nickname rolling off of this man's tongue making him cringe. As if nature were beckoned by this man alone, the gray clouds hovered to where the Sun was, and beneath the dark pillar, he could finally see who it was.

"It's sad, really," the raven sighed. "After going through all that trouble during graduation to leave that scar, and you still forgot about me."

"Izaya…" Shizuo mumbled below his breath. "You bastard…"

Izaya snickered behind his palm. "Did you miss me?"

"Like hell I did! You said you wouldn't be in Ikebukuro anymore!"

"I said that you wouldn't be seeing much of me. I was simply in Shinjuku, minding my own business these past six years, going back and forth to Ikebukuro. I didn't exactly say I was leaving. I just said you wouldn't be seeing me. Make much of a difference to you now, Shizu-chan?"

Shizuo snatched the cigarette stick from his mouth, ripping it in half, and tucking his sunglasses underneath his bow tie. "Well, whatever the reason." He smirked. "You're here now, which means I can kick your ass, right?"

Izaya smiled, flicking his switch blade from his Eskimo jacket. "I didn't exactly give you permission, but you wouldn't listen anyway.""

Shizuo harrumphed, his arm reaching out for the nearest projectile, and it just so happened to be a rusty stop sign. The iron protested against his hand as he ripped it from its lower half, returning his gaze to the man he'd waited so long to kill.

Akin to the olden days, he screamed Izaya's name so loudly that it reached the heavens and caused the birds perching on lamp posts and wires to flee for their lives.

He chased the louse throughout Ikebukuro, hurling any inanimate object he could find, and each one was jumped over or outran. "Izaya!" Shizuo shouted, hearing it echo back at him, and while everyone stared in bewilderment and heard his outbursts, the only person who seemed unaffected by it was none other than the one he was calling out for.

Even when it rained and stained everything on the streets and buildings, he chased the flea to the ends of the Earth. Only when his hair had gotten so wet that it matted down over his eyes did he stop and let the rain wash over him to catch his breath.


Each and every day, the louse would return to Ikebukuro, and the same conversations were exchanged.

"I told you to never return to Ikebukuro, you damn flea!" Shizuo would spout.

"Unfortunately, I don't listen to protozoa," Izaya would reiterate. Then, they would proceed to go at the other's throat, neither one pulling back an inch. Today was not an exception.

As Shizuo and Tom weaved their way through town on their next collection, the blonde stopped to momentarily sniff the air. Tom halted in his footsteps, raising an eyebrow, when it came to him that this particular part of the day was when he came. He sighed, adding the numbers up already.

"Something smells like shit," Shizuo muttered lowly. Tom just shook his head.

"Go on," he waved off, his bodyguard not missing a beat. The blonde followed the stench in the air, going through pathways he'd long ago ventured through, and passing oblivious pedestrians.

"Oh! Shizuo! Have some sushi!" the Russian sushi chef, Simon, called out, holding dozens of flyers in one hand. Shizuo, too wrapped up in his chase, hadn't heard one letter leave the man's mouth.

Just a few distances off, exiting Russia Sushi, was the one man he'd wanted to see, yet at the same time did not want to see. "I-za-ya…" he began in deliberately broken syllables. The raven brought his eyes to where his name had been uttered, looking smug and just all-around irritating.

Shizuo growled, knowing that Izaya had planned for this meeting to happen. Passersby quickly dashed away from the scene, knowing the fight that was about to ensue.

"Oh, Shizu-chan, I didn't expect to see you here," Izaya sarcastically droned, balancing the box of sushi to his other hand.

Shizuo growled with warning, the information broker the least perturbed. "What did I say about you coming to Ikebukuro?" Shizuo reminded, already in the process of hefting a vending machine from the side of a building. Izaya just smiled.

"Sorry, Shizu-chan. I'm on a very rushed schedule today, so I'll play with you some other time," the raven teased, already spinning around to rid his eyes of the brute.

"Get back here, Izaya!" Shizuo yelled with finality, hurling the soda machine towards an unsuspecting raven-head. The attack was quickly deflected when Simon blocked it with his enormous frame, skidding from impact.

"Shi-zu-o, fighting always bad!" Simon began to lecture.

"Shut up, and get out of my way!" Shizuo demanded, seeing how the little flea was already a ways off, clearly grinning at the spectacle. "Izaya, get back here!"

At the cry of his name, the ruby-eyed mastermind took off, the blonde hot on his trail and waving another wrenched stop-sign from the road. He curved corners, cut alleyways and broke through crowds, but neither tactic worked out in his favor.

He had Shizuo right where he wanted him, Izaya thought slyly. The barbarian was still swinging the stop-sign as if an ax. The information broker found himself rolling his eyes at that. Just one more turn.

When he reached the opposite side of the street and skidded to a stop, as did Shizuo, confusion shaping his eyebrows. Izaya glanced over his shoulder, and when Shizuo saw the triumphant smirk plaster on the skinny man's lips, Shizuo felt himself glide through the air, and from what, he didn't know.

He heard a few of his bones crack during his journey down the road, and as he slowed to a stop, it was one of the first times he ever felt numb. People began to talk amongst themselves, and he could hear phones clicking away.

"Shizuo Heiwajima lost!"

"Should we call the ambulance?"

"Izaya beat him!"

He couldn't even find the strength to be angry. The tip of his cigarette's fire died, his eyes wandering the streets, and seeing a two ton truck parked where he had been standing. Oh, I got hit by a truck, he came to realize.

He heard the sirens, and felt the lights flash into his retinas, his eyes remaining focused on the man who caused it all. As he was led away from all the chaos and all the chatter, he saw the brunette leer at him before the blackness swallowed him in its tumultuous typhoon.


He awoke to the sound of beeping; could smell the antiseptic and alcohol, and when he opened his eyes, light immediately invaded his senses, causing him to flinch.

He grunted from the exertion that put his body through, realizing that he was unusually stiff. When he glanced down, he noticed that he had been patched up and bandaged.

He felt somewhat at ease knowing that he hadn't completely died. When he saw that he wasn't locked within the familiar white rooms of a hospital, that ease he felt disappeared.

He surveyed the room, taking in its spaciousness and modern furniture. He didn't remember ever associating himself with such a coddled person.

"So you're finally up, Sleeping Beauty," a voice interrupted. Shizuo snapped his eyes to the origin of the voice. Immediately, he was seized with the intent to kill.

"Izaya, what are-" he began.

"What am I doing here? Shouldn't you be asking why you are here, Shizu-chan?" Izaya countered.

"Get out of here, you damn louse," Shizuo warned, straining against the gauze that held his body together. He winced when he pulled a tender muscle at his side.

"Such tactlessness. And here I went the higher mile and paid for the fees you couldn't afford. Appreciation would suffice," Izaya informed, sauntering towards the bed and stealing a spot on it. The blonde inched away instantly.

"I didn't ask for your damn money," he rebutted.

"Oh?" the raven inquired, a devious arch of his brow quaking Shizuo inwardly. "Then I suppose… you won't need this anymore?" Izaya pointed his pocket knife at the IV drip, twirling his personal dagger between his fingers.

Shizuo's eyebrows knitted at the threat. "So what?" he goaded.

Izaya chortled. "I thought you'd say that," he beamed with iniquity, the bed moaning in objection as he hefted himself and draped his legs around Shizuo's lap. The blonde stared with great disbelief, frozen and baffled. "Then perhaps, you could do without this?"

The information broker stroked Shizuo's Adam's apple threateningly with his switchblade, no amount of remorse or bluffness shown behind his sinful, scarlet eyes. Seeing the look of incredulity and anger pass over the blonde's face made Izaya chuckle with delight. "I hold your very life in the palm of my hands, Shizu-chan. You've just never realized it."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Shizuo felt the tip of the knife scrape his throat with each word he spoke.

"Think back, Shizu-chan. The gangs, your previous jobs, your lack of life, and your broken bones," Izaya listed off. "All of these happenings leading to where you are today were all planned out by me. You've been my long-time experiment, Shizu-chan."

"Why the fuck is it me!" he cried. What the hell did he ever do to this guy?

Izaya smiled even wider, bordering on nearly insane. "Why… Because I love humans," he answered. "Humans are the most intriguing beings in this world. They cry, they laugh, they despair, they hope, they love, and they hate. Yes, simply put, I adore the human race."

Shizuo gritted his teeth. "What does that have to do with me?"

The blonde hissed when the tip of the knife finally ran its jagged cut down his throat. "Shizu-chan, you're a monster. Wouldn't you agree?" Izaya questioned, staring at the blood that slid down the length of his blade, watching it go until it committed suicide and plummeted onto the white bed sheets. "Therefore, since you are not human, I hate you."

Shizuo remained stock-still, unable to move a budge or merely even breathe or blink. The knife held at his throat was back at his wound, carving even deeper into the skin. "Then what the hell are you waiting for? Kill me!" he commanded, the dagger finally reaching bone.

Izaya paused, as if assessing the words, and weighing each one carefully on a scale. But in the end, the same smirk that Shizuo loathed to the pits of Hell returned, and he was half sure it would never disappear. "Not quite yet." He ran the side of his switchblade over Shizuo's lips, the blonde tasting his own blood. "Tell me, Shizu-chan, have you ever kissed anyone?"

Shizuo glared. Izaya chuckled.

"I'll take that as a no. And I suppose this"-he grinded his hips, causing Shizuo to grunt involuntarily-"has only been touched by me?"

"Just what the hell are you planning to do?" Shizuo attempted to speak.

"I've already broken your bones," Izaya spoke through his suckling of the blonde's neck, "so I decided that I would crush your mind, as well."

Much like the first time they ever committed such acts, Shizuo was swept into the tornado that was Izaya, the little raven's lips leaving marks on his skin. If the gauze was in the way, he would cut them to pieces and treat the scars and fresh wounds with continuous nibbles and licks.

Shizuo shivered. "You're fucking sick…" he muttered helplessly, watching as the brunette advanced down his abdomen and continued all the way to where tiny, blonde hairs sprouted.

"Monsters have to feed off of each other, after all, Shizu-chan," Izaya mocked, outlining Shizuo's cock beneath the fabric, the blonde flinching in response. The raven closed his eyes, breathing against his arousal, with Shizuo struggling to operate his body. To get away from this perverted bastard.

Izaya continued to pepper kisses and licks over his tip, the only inch of skin that had escaped the confines of cloth. While he prepared himself, he amplified his moans.

When the brunette deemed himself ready, he slipped the offending material off of Shizuo's lower half, as well as removed his own. "W-what are you trying… to do?" Shizuo asked through the haze he was feeling. He could feel the blood from his previous wounds pouring down his sides from overexertion; felt himself grow numb once again.

Abruptly, the question was answered. His mind shut down as he felt the heat of Izaya's body engulf him entirely, leaving no room to object or concur.

Izaya stilled for a few moments, swallowing intake of breath after intake of breath, his crimson eyes staring up at the ceiling. He began to laugh, clutching at his forehead, as if in wonder. "Don't you hate this?" he started, using Shizuo's stomach as leverage as he rose only to crash back down. "It's only natural that you would!" he chortled to himself, continuously riding the blonde's sex.

Shizuo grappled at the sheets, unable to decide whether to focus on breathing correctly, else he'd bleed to death, or allow the brunette to finish them both off. He stifled his voice, hating how the raven was massaging him in all the right places and making him dizzy in the best of ways.

Your wounds are just affecting how you think, Shizuo, he repeatedly chanted in his head, trying to will away the perverse ideas blooming within his mind.

Izaya moaned endlessly. It was obvious to Shizuo that he was only doing it to ridicule him. To show that he was fucking the enemy. The palms on his abdomen pressed into the cuts and bruises, pain and pleasure on the horizon, Izaya's blunt nails beginning to press into his skin.

The information broker leaned against his ear, moaning to show how much pleasure he was receiving from this- to see Shizuo squirming helplessly, to see the hate overtake those golden irises. He could finally see the hate up close.

That minute of happiness was quickly extinguished when he felt his body tumble towards the pillows; witnessed an array of bed sheets shoot up like fireworks around him.

He stared, bewildered, at the injured man who switched their positions. When he glanced at those golden eyes he loved oh-so-much, there it was, plain as day- hate, malice, odium, repugnance.

Izaya grinned, the look of astonishment swiftly wiped from his face, as he thought up more colorful synonyms for hatred. "You really are a monster, Shizu-chan," the 23-year-old commented, and hastily disregarding it, Shizuo began to plow into Izaya's body, coaxing real moans from his mouth.

He mewled, whimpered, cried out and screamed, legs spread to the farthest extent, and thrusts nearly bone-shattering. Izaya seized as much oxygen as he could, but Shizuo left him no breath to rest.

His strength really is something to be reckoned with, Izaya found himself thinking as the bed shook uncontrollably beneath them, its headboard banging against the wall and causing a white shower of paint to shroud them.

Izaya hurriedly fisted himself, head thrashing and mind blanking out, focused solely on the incessant plunges of his rival, feeling the oncoming waves of his orgasm.

When they both released, gathering the wits that had flown out the window and the air that had once been restricted, they laid there, unable to move a muscle.

Izaya could feel the brute's blood stick to his chest, but didn't have the energy to complain about it. He felt both his arms still pinned against the pillows, knowing that both would be a nasty purple once they were freed from their clutches; could still feel Shizuo's cock wedged in his ass, predicting that the minute he took to his feet, it wasn't going to feel pleasant.

Yet in the end, it was all worth it. He smiled, knowing that the only thing that was able to see him was the ceiling. He could hear the shallow breathing of the blonde, noting that the older male was probably dead asleep from so much vigorous activity after just being discharged from the hospital.

"Humans flock to humans… and monsters flock to monsters," he thought aloud, feeling the first frown in years pulling at the corners of his lips. "I hate you so much… Shizu-chan."

So, uuuh... wow, don't got a lot to say this time o-o (maybe it's because it's like one in the morning?) I hope you enjoyed my first take on this couple. Hope it's not too bad. Maybe I'll write more about these two. Never know.