[ON HIATUS] The Broker (Izaya X Reader)

10 Take it Back

Seven Years Earlier
[in Ogikubo, Japan]

With the rain pattering on my shoulders and the crown of my head, I glanced down at my phone to check the time. The screen flicked its bright light across my face as I scowled at the realization that it was already so late. I held a shot glass in my other hand, turning it over to examine the print across its surface which spelled out "Happy Birthday, (-First Name-)". Although I didn't drink tonight, now I'm legally obliged to do so.

It's nearly two in the morning. It's definitely rare for me to be out this late, but I guess my own birthday party would be an exception. All my friends were either drunk at the restaurant by now, probably, or dead asleep. I'm glad I left before I could be morally forced to take care of them as the single sober. I watched cars drive past me on the road as my breath became visible in the cold, rainy night. Tucking a few strands of my (-Hair Color-) hair behind my ear, I wrapped myself tighter in the raincoat. All I had underneath was a (-Color-, -Style [optional]-) dress, and on my feet were (-Color-) high heels. I looked down at my reflection in a puddle. This is far more formal than usual... I told myself. And not so comfortable.

I waited for the stoplight to signify that I was allowed to walk, but my travels were cut short by the sound of people arguing. Curiosity struck me and I became set on trying to find out what the problem was. As I inched closer, I found that one of the voices was small and meek--like a child. The child's harsh words were sent to appear tough, but it greatly contrasted the shakiness of their tone. The other voices were clearly teenagers, maybe highschoolers, most likely bullying the poor kid.

Soon, I arrived at the scene which was located within a secluded alleyway. It was a bit dark, but I was still able to make out the gist of the situation. As I suspected, there was a young boy--no more than eight years old--being held up against a concrete wall by his shirt collar. He kept trying to insult the teens, but it so obviously wasn't working; judging by the way they were laughing instead.

I stepped in without really meaning to. By the time they noticed me, I figured it was too late to turn back now. "Wow..." I exclaimed. "To team up against a young boy just to prove to yourselves that you have just the slightest fragment of dominance in this world... I pity you."
Amused and offended, the teens started slurring insults and taunts as they crept forward, nearing me. I threatened them back as if they had hurt my feelings or something, and removed my jewelry, preparing to fight.

A tall figure stepped in front of me, blocking the teens from my view and blocking me from theirs. "You kids should head home," it said, bearing the voice of a man. He grabbed onto the young boy whose buzzcut is only visible to me now that he's closer. Then he outstretched his other arm like he's trying to hold me back from launching myself at the bullies. "Leave these two be. I'll deal with them."

"Oh, no way. Give up the girl," their leader, I assumed, said to the man. "She has to pay for what she said." I could see the teen grin to his comrades who smiled back. I cringed at the nasty looks on their faces. "Besides, she's drunk," the leader stated with a chuckle--as if it were a fact--whilst glancing at my shot glass.

I looked up at the man in front of me. He wasn't facing me, but I could still see his careless smirk as he lowered the arm that was restricting me. "Would you like to test that theory?" he challenged, speaking in place of me.

Taking this gesture as him allowing me to fight, I hooked my finger onto the back of my high heel, taking it off and twirling it in my hand so I could hold it comfortably as a weapon. Everyone flinched. "Come here," I encouraged. "This'll be my birthday present."

Instead, the teens stepped away, stumbling over their apologies, and ran off. I heard the man in front of me sigh as if he were stressed. "Couldn't you calm down a bit?" he asked me, opening up a black umbrella. "They were just kids."