The Happiest of Man

Chapter 33

The familiar rush of anger was something he felt, however it dissipated moments later as he continued to hold onto his cell phone like a hand he wanted to release, but couldn’t – for whatever reason that may be. As he flipped through the contents of his phone – deleting things, saving things, but mostly erasing items that were no longer important to him – he decided to keep it around a little longer. 

Once upon a time, it was all he had to keep himself connected with others if he was outside, away from a computer, away from those whom he wanted to speak to briefly.

- -

Izaya contemplated getting a new job at a place where no one will recognize him or remember vague rumors that circulated around his personality traits and how he was the type of person you should ignore if you wanted to live a life with no unnecessary troubles.

He ended up taking a stroll around the city, looking for ads on the windows of buildings filled with people, his usual attire different and lighter than before. No fur-trimmed coats to keep him company as it was replaced by a short sleeved sweatshirt. His v-necks were discarded temporarily, gathering dust in the back of his closet. He wanted to try something new. After all, he wasn’t even sure how much time he had left.

However, perhaps it was the wrong time to change his wardrobe just slightly. It was cold, he could feel his bones shiver under skin, and his previous coat was always keeping him warm and comfortable. Of course, it wasn’t suitable for the summer heat, but one way or the other, he always managed to find a reason to drag himself to the outdoors with it on.

He wanted to prove to himself that he was capable of enduring harsh environments even if it’s just a small leap of accomplishments.

“Ah.” 

Izaya spotted something from a distance. His lips curved upward as he made his way towards it. Placing his fingertips against the machine, he couldn’t help but to laugh a bit. He remembered the times when he could have died if he didn’t dodge one of these things. It didn’t frighten him, though – the thought of dying by some machine that shouldn’t even be flying into the air like that. If he recalled correctly, there was always a part of him that had some fun being chased by an angry brute who only wanted his life to end. There was a sense of excitement, the amazing rush of adrenaline as he felt his legs move away as quickly as they can, hand reaching for the flickblade, smile presented, reaching every part of his face.

He always laughed, always thought it was humorous to watch someone lose control like that.

Admittedly, there was also another part of him who hated being chased around like that. He hated his voice, the way he sounded as the man called out his name, trying to get him to stop running away, to stop playing mindless games with him. He hated that blond hair of his, those sunglasses he wore, the bartender uniform, and his monstrous strength. Most of all, he hated how he always got in his way.

Suddenly, he remembered when Shizuo had unexpectedly saved him that day when he had stumbled onto the middle of the street. Maybe it wasn’t so bad that he got in his way, but there was something that bothered him.

“Why am I remembering that all of a sudden?”

Izaya merely assumed that he was longing for the company of Ikebukuro. Maybe this would give him a good excuse to give Russia Sushi one last visit before he had to remain here in a hospital room where no visitors will ever see him, where no one will even remember that he had existed.

He knew that wasn’t the case, though.

He remembered because even if he wanted to deny it, he owed Shizuo for saving his life. Izaya made an effort to return the favor, especially when he was an information broker months ago. He didn’t want to live or even die with debts because where was the fun in that?

Grabbing out his cellphone, he looked down at the small buttons and began to wonder whether he would be able to type out a proper text message. Giving it a shot, it was slightly difficult, but he managed to create a coherent sentence: Do you miss it?

He didn’t send the text message over. Instead, he saved it as a draft and decided right there that he wasn’t going to get a job. 

“What’s the point?”