Puffing his cigarette, Shizuo Heiwajima, the monster of Ikebukuro, stormed down the street. He was pissed. No. He was way more than pissed. He wanted to destroy something so bad, he was afraid that he might pick up some random innocent pedestrian and chuck him into next week if not oblivion.
One thing was on his mind. 'Where the hell is that damn flea?'
Izaya Orihara, that annoying flea, had disappeared two weeks ago. No warning or smart remark before he left. He just…left.
Passing by Russia Sushi, he walked to the park to cool his head. Reaching, he saw someone. He had brunette hair, a thin figure, and a fur trimmed coat. He was someone he could never forget no matter how much he wanted to. Someone whose voice ticked him off, whose face portrayed amusement, whose scarlet eyes glistened in the afternoon sun, and whose laugh made him want to tear signs out of the ground to hit him with it.
Shizuo's surprised face quickly transformed to one made of sheer evil.
"IIIIZAAAYAAA-KUNNN…where the fuck have you been?" he asked acidly. The figure tensed.
Spinning around the first thing he said was, "Shizuo, Onegai. Not today. I'll get out of Ikebukuro right now. I'll leave Shinjuku and move far away. I'll even move to America. Just please. Please not today." He begged, backing away, his voice turning into a faint whisper. He clutched at the small, brown urn in his hands like it was his life.
Shizuo just stood there, he couldn't speak. He had never even laid eyes on Izaya in this state. What was wrong with him? He had even used his whole name and not that annoying 'Shizu-chan.' There he stood, staring at the wide eyed raven. He looked miserable. Bloodshot eyes and ragged clothing showed how much of a terrible state he was in.
Shrugging it off, he yelled, "Not today, I-ZA-YA-KUN, it might be one of your shitty tricks. I'm not in the mood for it today. I've been itching to beat you to a bloody pulp."
"Onegai, Shizuo, Onegai." The chanting never ceased.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!" he growled, knocking the urn cradled in the brunette's arms.
"NO!" he screeched. But it was too late. The tiny urn shattered into a million pieces and gray dust spilled out, staining the sidewalk. Some of it flew away in the wind. The world stopped rotating for Izaya.