Chapter Text
Prologue
Izaya Orihara is having the worst night of his life play right before his eyes. Standing alone outside his apartment complex in the freezing, pouring rain, with only a thin sweater attached to his back, and a small suitcase thrown to his side. The miserable weather being the least of his worries for once. He puffed out the pathetic laughter coming from his throat, his bangs sticking to his forehead, while the hood of his sweater continued to get completely drenched in water. What the hell did I do to deserve this? Although he had a pretty good guess, none of that mattered indefinitely because he had nothing.
Nothing to work with, and nothing to go from.
His cell phone lines had been cut; laptop, cameras, television monitor screens, radios, the very electrical system rooted in his entire nature severed from the internet’s connection. But none of that mattered because the apartment itself wasn’t even under his name anymore.
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Chapter 1: Solo
Izaya Orihara’s keys fell uselessly at his shaking hands. Shaking in the freezing temperatures of Japan, he knew he should’ve worn his fur coat but that was in the laundry, still drying. I need to get inside before I freeze to death. After minutes of failing to open it with his keys, he remedied this inconvenience by prying it open with one of his many folding knives instead. He easily managed to crack the door unlocked in under a second, skillfully wielding the knife despite his frozen fingers. With bated breath, Izaya lifted the soles of his shoes to step inside, his lithe body fitting in the tiny slot between the door and the door frame.
Suddenly a severe awareness took over his entire body. Why the hell would he need to use his knives to pry open his own door? Namie would certainly pull pranks on him from time to time, but her pranks were more along the lines of petty annoyances; dumping a water bucket over his head, or drawing squiggles on his face when he had fallen asleep on his desk. Not changing the lock on his door. And now that he thought about it, Namie was off stalking her brother today, so she couldn’t have planned this either way.
Something like this didn’t happen often, and that puzzled Izaya more than anything. Did someone manage to break into his home? He checked his keys again; they were the same keys he used everyday. Suspicion triggered his senses, the air was somehow different in his penthouse apartment, he couldn’t put his finger on it. Someone broke into his apartment. Although his initial reaction was unease, it piqued his interest to think that his humans had the gall of violating the home of the most notorious informant in Ikebukuro.
To be fair, his humans were incredible. Most importantly, some of them were unpredictable even. That's what made them so entertaining. The world never did anyones bidding, so it was down to sheer drive and motivation to accomplish something. And when their goals coincided with each other, chaos ensued. It was wonderful! The details that might not be visible to the conscious self can be observed by the outsider, and it was downright intriguing to see. This was precisely why Izaya chose to observe rather than directly participate in generating chaos. He was curious as to why his human would resort to such trespassing, regardless of whose property it was or what the consequences were.
Oh, Izaya had no doubt the consequences would be priceless! As much as he loved his humans, trespassing can be considered a serious offense. Although he did it from time to time for his own shady purposes, it was different because he was the overseer of this world. Orchestrating the pieces in the shadows is what Izaya revelled in, and if this person wants to drag him out onto the spotlight, he’ll do everything in his power to shut them down.
Besides, there was nothing more delightful than the slow and systematic approach of ruining a person's life. He’s already mastered that art, his job as an informant, basically granted him the tools to collect dirt on everybody, so it wouldn’t even be hard.
Inside his apartment, all the lights were off. Izaya cautiously flicked them on with the switch button but alas, the room was still shrouded in darkness. With midnight rolling around the bend, it was pitch black in its entirety. Hmmm… that's strange, he thought. There seemed to be a power outage. He felt a sharp chill trickle through his wet clothing, it was colder inside his apartment than out in the pouring rain. Water droplets from his hair slid down his forehead, and his drenched clothes were making fun-sized puddles on the floor.
He closed the front door behind him, and twiddled with his switchblade, already on high alert at the possibility of the invader still being around. Although, now that he stepped inside his apartment, he highly doubted they would have stuck around. The room was quiet but not enough to hint at a possible ambush. It seemed as if whoever stopped by left some time ago.
After a few minutes of careful listening, Izaya deemed it safe and sauntered over to where his luxurious floor to ceiling window was, drawing the blinds back. Letting the moonlight filter through as a light source, casting shadows along the walls and on the carpet. And that’s when things really started getting weirder… as he turned around to survey the rest of the room, he felt his stomach drop.
The furniture was missing. His favorite swivel chair, his platform tv, his decorative bookshelf, the couch; everything had vanished. There was no trace of heavy lifting either, no scuffle in the wooden floors, nothing left to use as evidence of Izaya ever living here in the first place. The culprit planned it to a tee, which was insane considering Izaya had only gone out to get some midnight fatty tuna. His fridge, his office desk, his big screen computer, even the chess board he frequently played with by himself was gone.
It left Izaya reeling back in shock, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but it wasn’t this. He knew there was a chance of someone breaking into his home, but to think that they took everything, it unsettled him to the core. The disturbing notion of someone touching his belongings, and not just touching, stealing, heisting, robbing. This was the complete removal of Izaya’s existence in his own house. Izaya felt his knees almost buckle, his hands violently shook at the massive, gut wrenching scale of this robbery.
With growing dread, he staggered further into the hallway, trying to piece the mystery together but falling short of the mark. In that time frame, it should’ve been impossible to remove everything. And it wasn’t just the furniture that worried him; the lights weren’t working, his own keys were false, and as soon as he stepped into the room he realised all his ten cell phones had blacked out. He was starting to believe this wasn’t the work of an ordinary human being. Whoever did this had intimate and private knowledge of him, and that meant Izaya was in more danger than he previously thought. There was a grave distinction between normal robberies and what happened here in his apartment. He felt the beginnings of shock slipping under his skin.
There was only one place he hadn’t dared to check yet. His own bedroom, he creeped up the stairs, towards the entrance and felt a tingle of panic go up his spine. This was his personal area, where he lay at his most vulnerable. It took him a couple of seconds to work up the courage to open the door. At this point, it was obvious there was something strange going on. In all his time of being an informant in Shinjuku, he’s been upset, injured beyond belief but he’s never had this much of an attack on his property. It honestly scared him more than he could admit.
Finally, he swung the door open and again, there was nothing. No bed, no table, no clothes in his closet; only a simple suitcase with a paper stapled to the front sat in the middle of the hollow room.
“Goodbye, Orihara.” The letters on the paper were read in ominous silence.
Then the alarm system blared, shocking the stupor out of Izaya. It pounded in his eardrums until all he could hear was that stupid deafening sound. No!! He’d installed those alarms for the very purpose of prosecuting thieves, only now they were being used against him. He knew the police cars would arrive soon, albeit it would take a few minutes. The police often took their sweet time when it came to break-ins, not wanting to deal with the hassle of butting face to face with a burglar. Did I just refer to myself as a burglar?
He could explain his situation to them, he even had a couple of contacts in the police. The only thing stopping Izaya was the fact that he didn’t know who he could fully put his trust in. At this point, he couldn’t disclose this information, it was honestly humiliating. How could he, the best informant in Ikebukuro and Shinjuku, be thrown out of his own house? He’s lurked in the underground world long enough to know that his bountiful enemies would reign hell to kick him while he’s vulnerable. If any one of them caught word of his current situation, they would undoubtedly use it to their own advantage. No way in hell is Izaya letting that happen!
Izaya tugged the suitcase, crumpled the thin piece of paper in his pocket and quickly dashed down the stairs, taking three steps at a time before hopping off with a thud. Then he bolted across the room towards his back door, which led to the garage, suitcase slamming against his leg as his adrenaline activated. It would only take a few minutes to dismantle the alarm system from the main setup in the garage.
From there, the police would assume it was an accident as opposed to an actual burglary. Izaya felt the tension building up in his veins, he sliced the electrical lines of the alarm system in one go, the blaring was cut short by the sharp blade of a knife. Then, he was met with silence.
His garage was a small-scaled one. Normally, most penthouses weren’t even built with garages but Izaya had paid extra. The walls and flooring were a matching sleek grey color with a shiny chrome surface. It was exactly to his choosing, impersonal, futuristic, and new, only now the room was hallow. The rain was still cascading down in torrents, the pattering sound only enhanced in the empty space of the garage. Izaya struggled to catch his breath, still numb from the bombshell of losing his home. His heart was beating out of his chest and his hands were trembling. What am I going to do now?
He briefly wondered if the thief installed cameras in the corners of his penthouse too, to observe his panic and disbelief at the handiwork. Izaya knew he would’ve. Even now as angry and humiliated as he was, he was still so bewildered by humanity. It was surreal seeing his apartment so bare, even the backup car he stashed away in his garage was missing. Who the hell hates me enough to do this? Well, it pained Izaya to think about it but it was a long list he needed to sort through. As much as he loved his humans, they never shared the same sentiment. He couldn’t let them get away with it, nonetheless. Whoever dared to victimize him would pay dearly. He’d make the criminal shed tears of blood, and that was a promise.
There was something he needed to check before leaving his wealthy, prosperous life behind; the suitcase. It’s been weighing on his mind, ever since he laid eyes on it. If the criminal took everything but suitcase, he needed to make sure it was safe, meaning there was no bugs or spyware.
Izaya stopped down to open the small suitcase, and spilled the contents all over the cement floor. There was money, extra changes of clothing, a jacket, a toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo. Everything was laid out in front of him yet it was so confusing, he felt a migraine coming on. Not the first time that night, he felt genuinely creeped out, what the hell was wrong with this person?
It made him sick knowing that someone's been through his clothes, his things. He couldn’t shake the feeling, he couldn’t stay here any longer. He’d just have to fully inspect the materials elsewhere. Izaya wobbled to his feet and with his hair standing on end, packed the necessities and left his empty apartment behind, the rain efficiently soaking his mind and being.
He couldn’t stay here any longer.
Izaya Orihara’s next move was to find a place to stay for the night.