"IIIIZAAAAYAAA-KUNNN," came a roar.
Spinning on his heel, Izaya came face to face with Shizuo Heiwajima.
"Oh, hi Shizu-chan~! Lovely day isn't it~?" he asked coyly.
"Not with you around, fucking louse," came the reply.
Before ensuing their regular fight, a phone call rang from Izaya's cell phone. He picked it up without checking the caller ID and his face went pale. Suddenly, he acted all respectful.
"Hai, I will….sorry…I'll do that now…bye," he hung up.
"Sorry Shizuo. I have to go. I don't have time to fight." He ran full speed before Shizuo could fully comprehend what happened.
'He called me by my name…what the fuck was that? There's something wrong with him…'
He trudged after him to find out what was up with the flea.
Sighing, he reached Shinjuku. He knew Izaya's address by heart because he went there so many times to beat the shit out of him, but failed. He knocked on the door. Instead of the informant answering, a woman that looked about 45 opened the door.
"What?" she asked acidly.
Taken aback by the woman, he stuttered, "I-I'm here to see Izaya…"
"Why?" she eyed the male. "Who are you to him?"
There was a call from the back of the house.
"Whose there?" it asked. Izaya came to view. Laying eyes upon Shizuo, he almost had a mini panic attack. Coming up with an excuse, he tried it out.
"Oh, Shizuo-kun," he said so respectfully it was almost sickening. "What are you doing here?"
He turned to his mother. "This is someone I know from my job. He's a client. I guess I forgot to move the appointment. I'm very sorry. I'll just talk to him since he's here and tell him to leave in a moment."
He took the bodyguard's arm and dragged him to the room.
"What the fucking hell are you doing here? I told you I can't fight today. I'll even let you hit me tomorrow for free if you just get the damn hell out of here," he hissed. Shizuo had never seen the informant so frazzled.
"What was that? You tell me! You ran away and then call me by my first name and even add a –Kun at the end?" Silence.
Izaya flopped onto his bed only to be called from downstairs.
"Stay here and don't you dare move because if you do, I swear I'll send 50 gangs a day to make your life miserable." He left the room.
Heading downstairs, he ran to the woman. Yes, okaa-san?" That was his mother?
"You're late today by about a second. Why? And I told you to cancel your appointments. Come here."
Reluctantly, he stepped forward. "Hold out your wrist," she commanded.
He dropped his gaze to the floor and complied. She took out a knife and got to work.
"If you scream, I'll hurt you more." She carved letters into his wrist.
The pain was unbearable. He bit his lip so it bled in an attempt to shut himself up. Searing heat was felt and finally she was done. A simple word was engraved on his wrist.
Slapping her son across the face about six or seven times, she hit him on the side of the head with a dish pan, causing the brunette to see stars.
"Now get lost. No dinner tonight. I don't want to see your face until tomorrow morning when you go to work. You have to make money to give to me, now don't you?"
Heavily trudging up the stairs, he opened the door to his room.
"What took so long fl-…What the hell happened to you," he asked panicked.
Before he could answer, Izaya felt to light headed to respond and collapsed to the floor.