He remembered the resentment building up inside him, a bitter black poison.
Eeee, a new fanfic!
Lost Bonds
...a DRRR!! fic
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Drama/Mystery
Spoilers: Entire series
Warnings: Angst and woe. And weirdness. This *is* Ikebukuro, after all.
Disclaimer: We do not own DRRR!! and wish we were that clever. DRRR!! belongs to all the respective people who actually own it, not that I know who any of those people are. But it's a safe bet that they aren't us.
Extra disclaimer: Fic is based on anime canon only.
In a word...: Written for the gen!meme. After an argument in which Masaomi tells Mikado he wishes they had never met, he wakes up the next day to find that Mikado no longer remembers him.
Chapter One
It was a beautiful autumn day, crisp and clear, one where even in the heart of Ikebukuro, you could still smell the trees. The bright sun shined in direct contrast with Masaomi’s mood; the proverbial black cloud was hovering over his head as he made his way down the street with plodding footsteps. He could swear that he could hear words echoing with every step.
// “It’s not like it was that easy for me either, okay? Why don’t you just build yourself a bridge and get over it?” //
His own words, sometimes. Mikado’s words, sometimes.
// “I had a lot on my mind, and I know that doesn’t make it okay, I know that, but at least - I tried when I could, I tried to protect Sonohara-san, which I didn’t see you doing - ” //
He had spoken harsh words in anger before. Of course, everyone had. But some things could never be taken back, and he was fairly sure that this argument was one of those times. The ironic thing was that he had met with Mikado to try to make things right. He had missed Mikado while he was away with Saki, more than words could say. He wanted to make things right between them.
// “Don’t start that bullshit with me, you’re just as naïve and idealistic as you always were. Some of us have to live in the real world!” //
But the resentment was too deep. Maybe too deep to ever overcome.
// “Okay, fine, I’m nothing but a little baby, I should have stayed in the country, I get it, okay? That doesn’t give you the right to come in here and take my head off for things that were far beyond my control!” //
He couldn’t even remember how the argument had started. One wrong word, a smile at the wrong time, a shrug when an actual reply was needed. He remembered the resentment building up inside him, a bitter black poison that finally started gushing from his mouth.
He didn’t remember which one of them had started it, but he remembered ending it himself.
// “I wish that you had never come to Ikebukuro! No, that’s not enough. I wish - I wish that I had never become friends with you! I wish I had never even met you!” //
Mikado had gone white then, silent and still for several long moments. Despite the anger, the guilt, the harsh feelings that had become harsh words, he truly loved his friend. It had taken him several tries before he had been able to speak, and even then all he could manage was a faint apology for having been such a burden, before he turned on his heels and fled.
The vicious satisfaction at having made Mikado run with his tail between his legs had lasted all of five minutes before Masaomi started to wonder what the hell he had just done. Overnight, the hesitant regret had become stark self-recrimination and sorrow so deep that it threatened to swallow him whole.
He knew Mikado well enough to understand that Mikado would never approach him after he had said that - that cool, diffident politeness in social situations where they couldn’t avoid each other was all he would ever get from Mikado again. He couldn’t stand the thought of it. Couldn’t stand the thought of watching as Mikado treated Anri or Kadota-tachi to the same easy affection that they had once shared. And since Mikado would never do or say anything, would honor Masaomi’s request, then it was up to Masaomi to apologize.
It was Sunday, so he was now heading towards Mikado’s apartment. He wasn’t sure what he was going to stay, but figured he would start off with ‘I’m an idiot’, follow it up with ‘a really, really sorry idiot’, and then see whether or not Mikado slammed the door in his face or what.
But when Mikado opened the door, the look on his face wasn’t anger or hatred, like Masaomi was afraid of, or happiness that his friend was coming to see him, which Masaomi had secretly hoped for, or even wary suspicion, which was what he had honestly expected. It was a simple blank look, followed by Mikado’s usual polite, “Can I help you?”
Taken off guard, Masaomi stammered, “Oh, uh, M-Mikado? I came - I had to come apologize, I’m so sorry, I’m always such a jerk - ”
Halfway through this, he saw the little frown crease Mikado’s forehead, and the other teenager said, “I’m sorry, but, uhm, who are you?”
A pang of uneasiness shot through Masaomi’s stomach. Why was Mikado pretending that he didn’t know him? Was this how he figured he would get through the days? By truly honoring Masaomi’s wish and acting as if they had never met before this very moment?
He couldn’t live like that. He had to make his friend see how truly sorry he was. “Mikado, it’s me, please don’t be like that - I understand that I deserve it, I deserve to have my ass kicked all the way to Hokkaido and back, but I - ”
“No, really,” Mikado said, staring at him in open bewilderment. “I - I really don’t know who you are.”
Masaomi was still working on what the hell he could say to that when he heard footsteps inside the apartment and tensed. “Mikado-kun, who was at the - oh, Masaomi-kun.” Izaya appeared behind Mikado, looking over his shoulder. He was clearly surprised and, although most people wouldn’t have noticed, puzzled to see Masaomi there. “Were you looking for me?”
“No, I - I came to see Mikado, why the hell would I ever look for you?” Masaomi asked, retaining enough wits to snarl at Izaya.
“You know Mikado-kun?” Izaya asked, filing this tidbit of information away.
“No, he doesn’t,” Mikado said. He frowned hard at Masaomi and said, “I think - you go to Raira, right? But you’re in class B. I don’t think we’ve ever actually spoken before.”
“But I - but you - ” Masaomi couldn’t handle it anymore. Whether Mikado was just screwing with him and enlisting Izaya for help (but why would Izaya be in Mikado’s apartment? a little voice nagged in the back of Masaomi’s mind), or whether something truly bizarre was happening, either way he couldn’t handle it. He bowed his head, mumbled, “Pardon the intrusion,” and then turned on his heels and fled the way he had forced Mikado to do the day before.
Masaomi walked for several long minutes without thinking about where he was going, his mind awhirl with confusion. Strange things happened in Ikebukuro every day, but this was one he wasn’t willing to accept, not yet. Mikado couldn’t have forgotten him. He might be angry, might be hurt, might even hate him, but he would never have forgotten him.
Since Izaya couldn’t be trusted, he had to get information from an alternative source. He took a shaky breath as his nerves calmed somewhat, as he formulated a plan. Then he took out his phone and texted Saki. ‘You busy?’
It was only moments before she replied, in her usual sweet-but-slightly-coy manner. ‘Never too busy for you.’
Masaomi breathed another sigh of relief. It wasn’t that everyone had forgotten him. No, he already knew that. Izaya had still known him, and had acted according to their relationship as of the last status that Masaomi knew. It was only Mikado who had been affected - which he hadn’t been, Masaomi reminded himself sharply. It was just a trick. Mikado had gotten some stupid idea in his head and Izaya, that snake, had probably encouraged him.
He met Saki at her favorite café and, unable to help himself, dove right in. “I had a fight with Mikado.”
She met this statement with a blank face. Masaomi’s stomach began to churn. “Mikado . . .?” she asked.
Masaomi had to swallow hard before he could speak. Mikado might act like he didn’t know him out of some confused idea that it was what Masaomi wanted, Izaya might pull a nasty trick like this, but Saki would never, ever lie to him. “Do you know him? Ryugamine Mikado?”
After a few moments, her face cleared. “Oh! Izaya-san’s errand boy?”
“Right,” Masaomi managed, in a strangled tone of voice.
Of course, it all made perfect sense. How, in a world where he and Mikado had never met, would Mikado have wound up in Ikebukuro? Because he had still gotten his computer and ventured into the online world, still formed the Dollars, still met ‘Kanra’. Instead of Masaomi encouraging him to come to Ikebukuro, Izaya had. That might explain why Izaya had been at Mikado’s apartment, too.
“You got in a fight with him?” Saki’s tone was somewhat disapproving. “I thought we had agreed we would avoid Izaya-san.”
“Trying to avoid Izaya-san is like trying to avoid the common cold,” Masaomi muttered. “You can try, but that doesn’t mean he won’t still get you.”
Saki laughed, the noise filled with warmth. “I suppose that’s true, but what were you doing tangling with his new protégé?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” Masaomi shook his head and tried to wave this aside. “It doesn’t matter, just forget I brought it up.”
Saki arched her eyebrows, but apparently decided not to push any further. She knew Masaomi well enough to know that if he wanted to talk, he would, and would do it in his own way when he was ready. So she nodded and then changed the subject to their plans for the day. Masaomi was staring off into space, tense and distracted. Finally, Saki laughed again and said, “You’re no good to me at all today, Masaomi. Why don’t you go find somewhere to relax? I’ll just do the same.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, chagrined.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s fine.”
They said their goodbyes and Masaomi wandered back to his apartment in a daze. He hadn’t particularly felt like dealing with his parents when he had gotten back, but they had accepted his return with the same blind serenity that they had accepted everything else he ever did. He sometimes wondered what exactly he would have to do, in order to catch his parents’ attention.
Hesitantly, dreading it, he pulled up the Dollars’ website on his computer. If he looked at the forums or the chatlogs, he thought he might get a better idea of what this alternate universe he had somehow created might entail. He entered the password and it worked fine, but then it displayed a message. A ‘welcome new user’ message and instructions on how to create a profile for the website.
If he had never met Mikado, how different would the past year of events have been? The trouble with Yagiri Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t have changed that much. It might have gone down even more easily, with Izaya right behind Mikado the entire way. But the events with the Blue Squares taking over the Yellow Scarves, with the Slasher . . . they must have happened differently. But how differently? And how was he supposed to find out? How could he gather information that everyone else would think he already knew?
And did it even matter? Whatever had happened, it was over. Somehow it had happened without his ever meeting Mikado. Who cared now about the exact events? Masaomi groaned and flopped backwards onto his futon.
There was a third option - one he was trying not to consider. An option beyond ‘Mikado is messing with you’ and secondary to ‘something truly weird is going on’. The option of ‘am I just losing my mind?’ It hung over him now, the specter of madness. Maybe he had wanted a friend so badly that he had just invented all of this in his head.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said to himself, fiercely. “You might be stupid, but you’re not crazy. If you were going to invent a fantasy world for yourself, it would suck a lot less than this.”
This decision made, he continued to stare up at his ceiling and ponder his options.
Ignoring the obvious problem that he had no idea how to go about fixing this mess he had made, he focused on the simpler, although by no means easier, dilemma of whether or not he should even try. Maybe Mikado would be better off without Masaomi in his life. It was true that he felt like all he had ever done around his friend was screw things up. Mikado was probably happy enough. He had still founded the Dollars. He probably had a good life.
All of which he thought he could accept, but whenever he was on the verge of giving in, he could hear Saki’s voice saying ‘Izaya-san’s errand boy?’ and he got so angry that he wanted to scream. Izaya couldn’t have Mikado. Izaya had already taken so much from him. And the thought of Izaya bringing Mikado up as his ‘protégé’, of corrupting and twisting his unbelievably naïve, idealistic, genuinely decent friend . . .
That was one thing Masaomi knew he could never accept.
There had to be a way to fix this. He had done this, somehow, so there had to be a way to undo it.
Masaomi rose from his futon and left his apartment in search of answers.
~ ~ ~ ~
“You’re awfully quiet over there, Mikado-kun,” Izaya said, not looking up from where he was busily texting away.
“Mm,” Mikado agreed. Ostensibly, he was doing his homework, but Izaya knew him better than that. He could talk and do trigonometry at the same time. After a moment, he realized that Izaya’s statement had been as much a question, which he was obviously supposed to answer. “Oh. I’m just thinking about what happened earlier.”
Izaya nodded, having expected this answer. He hummed a happy tune for a moment as he received a particularly interesting text, then said, “You’re sure you’ve never met him before?”
“I’m sure, but . . .” Mikado’s voice trailed off. Izaya was his friend. He was the reason he had come to Ikebukuro. But there were some things that he just couldn’t tell him. He didn’t think he could have put it into words, anyway. There had just been something in the blonde boy’s eyes that defied explanation. A desperate look. Hopelessness. Mikado couldn’t explain why, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop feeling a dull ache in the back of his throat.
“But?” Izaya prompted.
“I felt like I should have known him,” Mikado finally said.
“Well, you’ve probably heard of him,” Izaya said. He arched his eyebrows at Mikado and then laughed. “This really did throw you for a loop, my fine young protégé. You haven’t thought enough to recognize the name.”
“Masaomi-san, right?” Mikado asked.
“Mm,” Izaya agreed. “Kida Masaomi-kun. The leader of the Yellow Scarves.”
“Oh,” Mikado said, startled. “I didn’t realize. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard his first name before. It still amazes me that we got through that entire mess six months ago without ever actually meeting. I kept expecting to turn around and find him right behind me one day.” He let out a rueful laugh. “But I guess not.”
Izaya clearly thought that this was just as well. He had already lost one protégé to Masaomi, and he had no intention of losing another. “You wouldn’t like him.”
“Oh?” Mikado asked, chewing on the end of his pencil as he worked through another program.
“Yeah. He’s got just about every quality you hate in a person. He’s impulsive, immature, and stubborn to boot. He’s entirely predictable. Plus he’s something of a coward.” Izaya listed these damning qualities in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“He can’t be all that bad,” Mikado said. “If Mikajima-san likes him as much as you’ve told me.”
Despite himself, Izaya’s nose wrinkled. “They must have just gotten back.”
“You don’t know that. It’s not like they would have sent you a memo.”
“I would have heard.”
Mikado shrugged slightly. “Seems to me that if Mikajima-san wants to avoid you, she’d be able to stay off your radar.”
Izaya looked up and grinned at him. “Now you’re just trying to get a rise out of me,” he said, clearly amused. He was proud of his little protégé. He had come a long way from the stammering country boy that had arrived in the city less than a year previous. Izaya had had his doubts at first, but now he was glad that he had taken the boy under his wing. His growth was so amusing to watch. “But you’re probably right, about Saki, anyway.”
After a few moments, Mikado closed the textbook and put it away. “Why would he act like he knows me, though? He was trying to apologize for something. He really seemed to mean it, but I don’t even know what it was.”
“Maybe he was trying to apologize for everything that happened six months ago,” Izaya suggested. That seemed like the idiotic kind of idea that Masaomi might get into his head.
Mikado mulled this over. “While I agree that he might have some culpability for that, it’s hardly his entirely. And even if it was, why would he feel the need to come apologize to me? He doesn’t even know me.”
Izaya gave a shrug. “Weirder things have happened in Ikebukuro,” he said, and took a glance over at his younger friend. He saw immediately that his words were making no headway. Mikado had gotten the puzzle into his head, and now that that had happened, there was no going back. He didn’t know a single person who could be more stubborn and headstrong than Mikado with a mystery to solve. He laughed. “All right. I’ll e-mail Saki and see if I can find out what bee has gotten into Masaomi’s bonnet. As for you, I have work for you today, so put it out of your head. This is Ikebukuro, Mikado-kun. You’ve got to keep your wits about you.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Masaomi found Kadota and his little gang hanging out at Russia Sushi, which was just about where he would have expected to find them at the dinner hour. He was a little uneasy approaching them, not knowing how the dominoes had fallen this time around, but Kadota looked up and gave him the usual easy nod as he approached.
He wasn’t exactly sure why he found himself going to Kadota whenever he needed information. The older man often knew what was going on, and it was certainly better to ask him than to ask Izaya. But it was more than that. Kadota seemed like the only person he knew who was capable of treating him like the kid he was, without patronizing him. It was a valuable talent, and one that Masaomi truly appreciated. Besides, Kadota was someone he could always trust to give it to him straight, and not talk around an issue.
“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.
Kadota waved to the available seat. “When’d you get back in town?”
“Just a few days ago.” Masaomi took a deep breath. “I need to ask you something.” He spared an uneasy glance for the others and added, “Privately.”
Kadota sipped his tea, considered, and shook his head. “Nah. They’ll just eavesdrop anyway. Whatever you have to say, say it in front of everyone.”
Masaomi wanted to argue, but he knew he was treading on thin ice as it was. He took another deep breath and said, “If I tell you a story that sounds too weird to be believed, will you believe me?”
“Sure,” Kadota said, thumbed at Yumasaki and Karisawa, and said, “I hang out with those two.”
Karisawa laughed. “Dotachin, you’re so right!”
“This is weirder than that,” Masaomi said. “This is . . . this is Ikebukuro weird. It’s crazy. It can’t have happened, but I swear to you that it did.”
“Lay it on me,” Kadota said, then held up a hand for Masaomi to wait. The blonde shut his mouth, and a moment later, Simon arrived with their sushi. He greeted Masaomi cheerfully, set down the food, and then departed. “Okay,” Kadota said, picking up a piece of sashimi. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know Ryuugamine Mikado?”
“Course I do,” Kadota said, looking at him blankly. “You know that.”
“I don’t know that, that’s the problem,” Masaomi said. One more deep breath and he launched into the story. He skimmed over the specifics of the argument, not really wanting to discuss that in detail, and Kadota listened to the tale with his usual stoic expression. At the end, in a rush, Masaomi asked, “Do you believe me?”
Kadota considered, then said, “I can’t think of any reason you’d lie about something like this, and stranger things probably have happened around here, so yeah, I believe you.”
Masaomi gave a sigh of relief and finally started in on his sushi, although he wasn’t really very hungry. While he was thinking things over, Karisawa and Yumasaki got in a heated discussion of alternate timelines and the likelihood that this one was caused by either magic or technology. He sat for several long minutes, tuning them out, before he said, “I guess I need to know what happened. How things are different now.”
Kadota tapped his fingers against the table and said, “From the way you described things, not much has changed beyond the fact that Mikado-kun wasn’t at the ‘final showdown’, so to speak, or at least I don’t remember him being there. Which makes sense. If he didn’t know you personally, there was no reason for him to be there. The Blue Squares had assembled - as the Yellow Scarves, true - and the Dollars took them on. But Mikado-kun’s physical presence was unnecessary. He knew what we were up to. Which I guess he didn’t, in your version.”
Masaomi nodded silently, then asked, “What about Anri-chan? Was she there?”
“Yeah, she was there,” Kadota said. “You two are still friends, as far as I know.”
A sense of relief filled Masaomi. At least he hadn’t lost everything.
“Hey,” Kadota said, “what do you plan to do about this?”
Masaomi wasn’t sure what to say, especially with all four of them suddenly staring at him, even Togusa, who up until that point had been focused on his sushi. “W-What do you mean?” he asked. “I don’t even know how this happened. I have no idea what I’m going to do. I have no idea what I can do.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Kadota pointed to Masaomi with his chopsticks. “I don’t know how to fix it. My question is, are you going to try?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Masaomi asked, flustered. “Mikado is my friend.”
“Do you know what your problem is, Kida?”
Masaomi sighed. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You don’t know how to accept responsibility when you fuck up,” Kadota said. “When things went south with the Yellow Scarves, you bailed. When Saki got hurt, you avoided her. When things blew up with the Blue Squares again, you took a six-month vacation with your girlfriend. Are you seeing a pattern here?”
His face turning pink, Masaomi fought against alternating waves of rage and shame. “What’s your point?” he asked rudely.
“My point,” Kadota said, “is that you may not be able to fix this. You said it. You can’t take it back. Take responsibility. You made your bed; now lie in it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Masaomi retorted. “You didn’t lose your best friend!”
Both Karisawa and Yumasaki seemed to take an exception to Masaomi’s tone, but a quick look from Kadota squelched their indignant retorts. “No, I didn’t,” Kadota said quietly. “But you know who did besides you? Mikado-kun. And he lost his best friend the moment those words left your mouth, regardless of whatever supernatural hoodoo took over after that. So why don’t you go home and think about that before you decide whether or not to pursue this. Mikado-kun may be better off without you.”
“But not with Izaya,” Masaomi said. “Never with Izaya.”
“Who he’s friends with, who he works for, it’s not your decision to make,” Kadota said.
“Izaya isn’t his friend. No matter what he thinks. Izaya told me he was the founder of the Dollars, to come between us.”
Kadota sipped his tea. “Not in this universe,” he reminded Masaomi.
“He sold his name to Horada, who put a price on his head!”
“Then tell Mikado-kun that. Not me.”
Masaomi stood, ready to storm out, then remembered his manners. Whether he liked the answers or not, Kadota had told him what he wanted to know and probably been nicer to him than he deserved. Kadota always played it straight with him. He bowed his head and said, “Thank you for your guidance,” before turning and leaving the restaurant.
The others watched him go.
“How long before he figures out that Yagiri Namie did that, not Izaya?” Togusa wondered aloud.
Kadota let out a snort. “Probably about as long as it takes for him to go find Mikado-kun and start flinging accusations around.”
Togusa watched Karisawa and Yumasaki argue over the last piece of sushi for a few moments before he said, “It’s gonna be an interesting week.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Lost Bonds
...a DRRR!! fic
Rated: PG-13
Genre: Drama/Mystery
Spoilers: Entire series
Warnings: Angst and woe. And weirdness. This *is* Ikebukuro, after all.
Disclaimer: We do not own DRRR!! and wish we were that clever. DRRR!! belongs to all the respective people who actually own it, not that I know who any of those people are. But it's a safe bet that they aren't us.
Extra disclaimer: Fic is based on anime canon only.
In a word...: Written for the gen!meme. After an argument in which Masaomi tells Mikado he wishes they had never met, he wakes up the next day to find that Mikado no longer remembers him.
Chapter One
It was a beautiful autumn day, crisp and clear, one where even in the heart of Ikebukuro, you could still smell the trees. The bright sun shined in direct contrast with Masaomi’s mood; the proverbial black cloud was hovering over his head as he made his way down the street with plodding footsteps. He could swear that he could hear words echoing with every step.
// “It’s not like it was that easy for me either, okay? Why don’t you just build yourself a bridge and get over it?” //
His own words, sometimes. Mikado’s words, sometimes.
// “I had a lot on my mind, and I know that doesn’t make it okay, I know that, but at least - I tried when I could, I tried to protect Sonohara-san, which I didn’t see you doing - ” //
He had spoken harsh words in anger before. Of course, everyone had. But some things could never be taken back, and he was fairly sure that this argument was one of those times. The ironic thing was that he had met with Mikado to try to make things right. He had missed Mikado while he was away with Saki, more than words could say. He wanted to make things right between them.
// “Don’t start that bullshit with me, you’re just as naïve and idealistic as you always were. Some of us have to live in the real world!” //
But the resentment was too deep. Maybe too deep to ever overcome.
// “Okay, fine, I’m nothing but a little baby, I should have stayed in the country, I get it, okay? That doesn’t give you the right to come in here and take my head off for things that were far beyond my control!” //
He couldn’t even remember how the argument had started. One wrong word, a smile at the wrong time, a shrug when an actual reply was needed. He remembered the resentment building up inside him, a bitter black poison that finally started gushing from his mouth.
He didn’t remember which one of them had started it, but he remembered ending it himself.
// “I wish that you had never come to Ikebukuro! No, that’s not enough. I wish - I wish that I had never become friends with you! I wish I had never even met you!” //
Mikado had gone white then, silent and still for several long moments. Despite the anger, the guilt, the harsh feelings that had become harsh words, he truly loved his friend. It had taken him several tries before he had been able to speak, and even then all he could manage was a faint apology for having been such a burden, before he turned on his heels and fled.
The vicious satisfaction at having made Mikado run with his tail between his legs had lasted all of five minutes before Masaomi started to wonder what the hell he had just done. Overnight, the hesitant regret had become stark self-recrimination and sorrow so deep that it threatened to swallow him whole.
He knew Mikado well enough to understand that Mikado would never approach him after he had said that - that cool, diffident politeness in social situations where they couldn’t avoid each other was all he would ever get from Mikado again. He couldn’t stand the thought of it. Couldn’t stand the thought of watching as Mikado treated Anri or Kadota-tachi to the same easy affection that they had once shared. And since Mikado would never do or say anything, would honor Masaomi’s request, then it was up to Masaomi to apologize.
It was Sunday, so he was now heading towards Mikado’s apartment. He wasn’t sure what he was going to stay, but figured he would start off with ‘I’m an idiot’, follow it up with ‘a really, really sorry idiot’, and then see whether or not Mikado slammed the door in his face or what.
But when Mikado opened the door, the look on his face wasn’t anger or hatred, like Masaomi was afraid of, or happiness that his friend was coming to see him, which Masaomi had secretly hoped for, or even wary suspicion, which was what he had honestly expected. It was a simple blank look, followed by Mikado’s usual polite, “Can I help you?”
Taken off guard, Masaomi stammered, “Oh, uh, M-Mikado? I came - I had to come apologize, I’m so sorry, I’m always such a jerk - ”
Halfway through this, he saw the little frown crease Mikado’s forehead, and the other teenager said, “I’m sorry, but, uhm, who are you?”
A pang of uneasiness shot through Masaomi’s stomach. Why was Mikado pretending that he didn’t know him? Was this how he figured he would get through the days? By truly honoring Masaomi’s wish and acting as if they had never met before this very moment?
He couldn’t live like that. He had to make his friend see how truly sorry he was. “Mikado, it’s me, please don’t be like that - I understand that I deserve it, I deserve to have my ass kicked all the way to Hokkaido and back, but I - ”
“No, really,” Mikado said, staring at him in open bewilderment. “I - I really don’t know who you are.”
Masaomi was still working on what the hell he could say to that when he heard footsteps inside the apartment and tensed. “Mikado-kun, who was at the - oh, Masaomi-kun.” Izaya appeared behind Mikado, looking over his shoulder. He was clearly surprised and, although most people wouldn’t have noticed, puzzled to see Masaomi there. “Were you looking for me?”
“No, I - I came to see Mikado, why the hell would I ever look for you?” Masaomi asked, retaining enough wits to snarl at Izaya.
“You know Mikado-kun?” Izaya asked, filing this tidbit of information away.
“No, he doesn’t,” Mikado said. He frowned hard at Masaomi and said, “I think - you go to Raira, right? But you’re in class B. I don’t think we’ve ever actually spoken before.”
“But I - but you - ” Masaomi couldn’t handle it anymore. Whether Mikado was just screwing with him and enlisting Izaya for help (but why would Izaya be in Mikado’s apartment? a little voice nagged in the back of Masaomi’s mind), or whether something truly bizarre was happening, either way he couldn’t handle it. He bowed his head, mumbled, “Pardon the intrusion,” and then turned on his heels and fled the way he had forced Mikado to do the day before.
Masaomi walked for several long minutes without thinking about where he was going, his mind awhirl with confusion. Strange things happened in Ikebukuro every day, but this was one he wasn’t willing to accept, not yet. Mikado couldn’t have forgotten him. He might be angry, might be hurt, might even hate him, but he would never have forgotten him.
Since Izaya couldn’t be trusted, he had to get information from an alternative source. He took a shaky breath as his nerves calmed somewhat, as he formulated a plan. Then he took out his phone and texted Saki. ‘You busy?’
It was only moments before she replied, in her usual sweet-but-slightly-coy manner. ‘Never too busy for you.’
Masaomi breathed another sigh of relief. It wasn’t that everyone had forgotten him. No, he already knew that. Izaya had still known him, and had acted according to their relationship as of the last status that Masaomi knew. It was only Mikado who had been affected - which he hadn’t been, Masaomi reminded himself sharply. It was just a trick. Mikado had gotten some stupid idea in his head and Izaya, that snake, had probably encouraged him.
He met Saki at her favorite café and, unable to help himself, dove right in. “I had a fight with Mikado.”
She met this statement with a blank face. Masaomi’s stomach began to churn. “Mikado . . .?” she asked.
Masaomi had to swallow hard before he could speak. Mikado might act like he didn’t know him out of some confused idea that it was what Masaomi wanted, Izaya might pull a nasty trick like this, but Saki would never, ever lie to him. “Do you know him? Ryugamine Mikado?”
After a few moments, her face cleared. “Oh! Izaya-san’s errand boy?”
“Right,” Masaomi managed, in a strangled tone of voice.
Of course, it all made perfect sense. How, in a world where he and Mikado had never met, would Mikado have wound up in Ikebukuro? Because he had still gotten his computer and ventured into the online world, still formed the Dollars, still met ‘Kanra’. Instead of Masaomi encouraging him to come to Ikebukuro, Izaya had. That might explain why Izaya had been at Mikado’s apartment, too.
“You got in a fight with him?” Saki’s tone was somewhat disapproving. “I thought we had agreed we would avoid Izaya-san.”
“Trying to avoid Izaya-san is like trying to avoid the common cold,” Masaomi muttered. “You can try, but that doesn’t mean he won’t still get you.”
Saki laughed, the noise filled with warmth. “I suppose that’s true, but what were you doing tangling with his new protégé?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” Masaomi shook his head and tried to wave this aside. “It doesn’t matter, just forget I brought it up.”
Saki arched her eyebrows, but apparently decided not to push any further. She knew Masaomi well enough to know that if he wanted to talk, he would, and would do it in his own way when he was ready. So she nodded and then changed the subject to their plans for the day. Masaomi was staring off into space, tense and distracted. Finally, Saki laughed again and said, “You’re no good to me at all today, Masaomi. Why don’t you go find somewhere to relax? I’ll just do the same.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, chagrined.
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s fine.”
They said their goodbyes and Masaomi wandered back to his apartment in a daze. He hadn’t particularly felt like dealing with his parents when he had gotten back, but they had accepted his return with the same blind serenity that they had accepted everything else he ever did. He sometimes wondered what exactly he would have to do, in order to catch his parents’ attention.
Hesitantly, dreading it, he pulled up the Dollars’ website on his computer. If he looked at the forums or the chatlogs, he thought he might get a better idea of what this alternate universe he had somehow created might entail. He entered the password and it worked fine, but then it displayed a message. A ‘welcome new user’ message and instructions on how to create a profile for the website.
If he had never met Mikado, how different would the past year of events have been? The trouble with Yagiri Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t have changed that much. It might have gone down even more easily, with Izaya right behind Mikado the entire way. But the events with the Blue Squares taking over the Yellow Scarves, with the Slasher . . . they must have happened differently. But how differently? And how was he supposed to find out? How could he gather information that everyone else would think he already knew?
And did it even matter? Whatever had happened, it was over. Somehow it had happened without his ever meeting Mikado. Who cared now about the exact events? Masaomi groaned and flopped backwards onto his futon.
There was a third option - one he was trying not to consider. An option beyond ‘Mikado is messing with you’ and secondary to ‘something truly weird is going on’. The option of ‘am I just losing my mind?’ It hung over him now, the specter of madness. Maybe he had wanted a friend so badly that he had just invented all of this in his head.
“Don’t be an idiot,” he said to himself, fiercely. “You might be stupid, but you’re not crazy. If you were going to invent a fantasy world for yourself, it would suck a lot less than this.”
This decision made, he continued to stare up at his ceiling and ponder his options.
Ignoring the obvious problem that he had no idea how to go about fixing this mess he had made, he focused on the simpler, although by no means easier, dilemma of whether or not he should even try. Maybe Mikado would be better off without Masaomi in his life. It was true that he felt like all he had ever done around his friend was screw things up. Mikado was probably happy enough. He had still founded the Dollars. He probably had a good life.
All of which he thought he could accept, but whenever he was on the verge of giving in, he could hear Saki’s voice saying ‘Izaya-san’s errand boy?’ and he got so angry that he wanted to scream. Izaya couldn’t have Mikado. Izaya had already taken so much from him. And the thought of Izaya bringing Mikado up as his ‘protégé’, of corrupting and twisting his unbelievably naïve, idealistic, genuinely decent friend . . .
That was one thing Masaomi knew he could never accept.
There had to be a way to fix this. He had done this, somehow, so there had to be a way to undo it.
Masaomi rose from his futon and left his apartment in search of answers.
~ ~ ~ ~
“You’re awfully quiet over there, Mikado-kun,” Izaya said, not looking up from where he was busily texting away.
“Mm,” Mikado agreed. Ostensibly, he was doing his homework, but Izaya knew him better than that. He could talk and do trigonometry at the same time. After a moment, he realized that Izaya’s statement had been as much a question, which he was obviously supposed to answer. “Oh. I’m just thinking about what happened earlier.”
Izaya nodded, having expected this answer. He hummed a happy tune for a moment as he received a particularly interesting text, then said, “You’re sure you’ve never met him before?”
“I’m sure, but . . .” Mikado’s voice trailed off. Izaya was his friend. He was the reason he had come to Ikebukuro. But there were some things that he just couldn’t tell him. He didn’t think he could have put it into words, anyway. There had just been something in the blonde boy’s eyes that defied explanation. A desperate look. Hopelessness. Mikado couldn’t explain why, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop feeling a dull ache in the back of his throat.
“But?” Izaya prompted.
“I felt like I should have known him,” Mikado finally said.
“Well, you’ve probably heard of him,” Izaya said. He arched his eyebrows at Mikado and then laughed. “This really did throw you for a loop, my fine young protégé. You haven’t thought enough to recognize the name.”
“Masaomi-san, right?” Mikado asked.
“Mm,” Izaya agreed. “Kida Masaomi-kun. The leader of the Yellow Scarves.”
“Oh,” Mikado said, startled. “I didn’t realize. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard his first name before. It still amazes me that we got through that entire mess six months ago without ever actually meeting. I kept expecting to turn around and find him right behind me one day.” He let out a rueful laugh. “But I guess not.”
Izaya clearly thought that this was just as well. He had already lost one protégé to Masaomi, and he had no intention of losing another. “You wouldn’t like him.”
“Oh?” Mikado asked, chewing on the end of his pencil as he worked through another program.
“Yeah. He’s got just about every quality you hate in a person. He’s impulsive, immature, and stubborn to boot. He’s entirely predictable. Plus he’s something of a coward.” Izaya listed these damning qualities in a matter-of-fact tone of voice.
“He can’t be all that bad,” Mikado said. “If Mikajima-san likes him as much as you’ve told me.”
Despite himself, Izaya’s nose wrinkled. “They must have just gotten back.”
“You don’t know that. It’s not like they would have sent you a memo.”
“I would have heard.”
Mikado shrugged slightly. “Seems to me that if Mikajima-san wants to avoid you, she’d be able to stay off your radar.”
Izaya looked up and grinned at him. “Now you’re just trying to get a rise out of me,” he said, clearly amused. He was proud of his little protégé. He had come a long way from the stammering country boy that had arrived in the city less than a year previous. Izaya had had his doubts at first, but now he was glad that he had taken the boy under his wing. His growth was so amusing to watch. “But you’re probably right, about Saki, anyway.”
After a few moments, Mikado closed the textbook and put it away. “Why would he act like he knows me, though? He was trying to apologize for something. He really seemed to mean it, but I don’t even know what it was.”
“Maybe he was trying to apologize for everything that happened six months ago,” Izaya suggested. That seemed like the idiotic kind of idea that Masaomi might get into his head.
Mikado mulled this over. “While I agree that he might have some culpability for that, it’s hardly his entirely. And even if it was, why would he feel the need to come apologize to me? He doesn’t even know me.”
Izaya gave a shrug. “Weirder things have happened in Ikebukuro,” he said, and took a glance over at his younger friend. He saw immediately that his words were making no headway. Mikado had gotten the puzzle into his head, and now that that had happened, there was no going back. He didn’t know a single person who could be more stubborn and headstrong than Mikado with a mystery to solve. He laughed. “All right. I’ll e-mail Saki and see if I can find out what bee has gotten into Masaomi’s bonnet. As for you, I have work for you today, so put it out of your head. This is Ikebukuro, Mikado-kun. You’ve got to keep your wits about you.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Masaomi found Kadota and his little gang hanging out at Russia Sushi, which was just about where he would have expected to find them at the dinner hour. He was a little uneasy approaching them, not knowing how the dominoes had fallen this time around, but Kadota looked up and gave him the usual easy nod as he approached.
He wasn’t exactly sure why he found himself going to Kadota whenever he needed information. The older man often knew what was going on, and it was certainly better to ask him than to ask Izaya. But it was more than that. Kadota seemed like the only person he knew who was capable of treating him like the kid he was, without patronizing him. It was a valuable talent, and one that Masaomi truly appreciated. Besides, Kadota was someone he could always trust to give it to him straight, and not talk around an issue.
“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.
Kadota waved to the available seat. “When’d you get back in town?”
“Just a few days ago.” Masaomi took a deep breath. “I need to ask you something.” He spared an uneasy glance for the others and added, “Privately.”
Kadota sipped his tea, considered, and shook his head. “Nah. They’ll just eavesdrop anyway. Whatever you have to say, say it in front of everyone.”
Masaomi wanted to argue, but he knew he was treading on thin ice as it was. He took another deep breath and said, “If I tell you a story that sounds too weird to be believed, will you believe me?”
“Sure,” Kadota said, thumbed at Yumasaki and Karisawa, and said, “I hang out with those two.”
Karisawa laughed. “Dotachin, you’re so right!”
“This is weirder than that,” Masaomi said. “This is . . . this is Ikebukuro weird. It’s crazy. It can’t have happened, but I swear to you that it did.”
“Lay it on me,” Kadota said, then held up a hand for Masaomi to wait. The blonde shut his mouth, and a moment later, Simon arrived with their sushi. He greeted Masaomi cheerfully, set down the food, and then departed. “Okay,” Kadota said, picking up a piece of sashimi. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know Ryuugamine Mikado?”
“Course I do,” Kadota said, looking at him blankly. “You know that.”
“I don’t know that, that’s the problem,” Masaomi said. One more deep breath and he launched into the story. He skimmed over the specifics of the argument, not really wanting to discuss that in detail, and Kadota listened to the tale with his usual stoic expression. At the end, in a rush, Masaomi asked, “Do you believe me?”
Kadota considered, then said, “I can’t think of any reason you’d lie about something like this, and stranger things probably have happened around here, so yeah, I believe you.”
Masaomi gave a sigh of relief and finally started in on his sushi, although he wasn’t really very hungry. While he was thinking things over, Karisawa and Yumasaki got in a heated discussion of alternate timelines and the likelihood that this one was caused by either magic or technology. He sat for several long minutes, tuning them out, before he said, “I guess I need to know what happened. How things are different now.”
Kadota tapped his fingers against the table and said, “From the way you described things, not much has changed beyond the fact that Mikado-kun wasn’t at the ‘final showdown’, so to speak, or at least I don’t remember him being there. Which makes sense. If he didn’t know you personally, there was no reason for him to be there. The Blue Squares had assembled - as the Yellow Scarves, true - and the Dollars took them on. But Mikado-kun’s physical presence was unnecessary. He knew what we were up to. Which I guess he didn’t, in your version.”
Masaomi nodded silently, then asked, “What about Anri-chan? Was she there?”
“Yeah, she was there,” Kadota said. “You two are still friends, as far as I know.”
A sense of relief filled Masaomi. At least he hadn’t lost everything.
“Hey,” Kadota said, “what do you plan to do about this?”
Masaomi wasn’t sure what to say, especially with all four of them suddenly staring at him, even Togusa, who up until that point had been focused on his sushi. “W-What do you mean?” he asked. “I don’t even know how this happened. I have no idea what I’m going to do. I have no idea what I can do.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Kadota pointed to Masaomi with his chopsticks. “I don’t know how to fix it. My question is, are you going to try?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Masaomi asked, flustered. “Mikado is my friend.”
“Do you know what your problem is, Kida?”
Masaomi sighed. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You don’t know how to accept responsibility when you fuck up,” Kadota said. “When things went south with the Yellow Scarves, you bailed. When Saki got hurt, you avoided her. When things blew up with the Blue Squares again, you took a six-month vacation with your girlfriend. Are you seeing a pattern here?”
His face turning pink, Masaomi fought against alternating waves of rage and shame. “What’s your point?” he asked rudely.
“My point,” Kadota said, “is that you may not be able to fix this. You said it. You can’t take it back. Take responsibility. You made your bed; now lie in it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Masaomi retorted. “You didn’t lose your best friend!”
Both Karisawa and Yumasaki seemed to take an exception to Masaomi’s tone, but a quick look from Kadota squelched their indignant retorts. “No, I didn’t,” Kadota said quietly. “But you know who did besides you? Mikado-kun. And he lost his best friend the moment those words left your mouth, regardless of whatever supernatural hoodoo took over after that. So why don’t you go home and think about that before you decide whether or not to pursue this. Mikado-kun may be better off without you.”
“But not with Izaya,” Masaomi said. “Never with Izaya.”
“Who he’s friends with, who he works for, it’s not your decision to make,” Kadota said.
“Izaya isn’t his friend. No matter what he thinks. Izaya told me he was the founder of the Dollars, to come between us.”
Kadota sipped his tea. “Not in this universe,” he reminded Masaomi.
“He sold his name to Horada, who put a price on his head!”
“Then tell Mikado-kun that. Not me.”
Masaomi stood, ready to storm out, then remembered his manners. Whether he liked the answers or not, Kadota had told him what he wanted to know and probably been nicer to him than he deserved. Kadota always played it straight with him. He bowed his head and said, “Thank you for your guidance,” before turning and leaving the restaurant.
The others watched him go.
“How long before he figures out that Yagiri Namie did that, not Izaya?” Togusa wondered aloud.
Kadota let out a snort. “Probably about as long as it takes for him to go find Mikado-kun and start flinging accusations around.”
Togusa watched Karisawa and Yumasaki argue over the last piece of sushi for a few moments before he said, “It’s gonna be an interesting week.”
~ ~ ~ ~